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Wednesday, September 1, 2010


A teacher is known to mould,
The young minds as told.
We give but don’t take,
For theirs and our conscious’ sake.

The tasks are mighty high,
But still the limits are like sky.
We toil on the trace,
Keeping our face.

We are said to be the light,
That shine through the darkest night.
But people don’t know a teacher’s a mule,
Working and burning his fuel.

Day and night,
Fighting like a brave knight.
We follow the tiring tread,
To earn the future bread.

We give but not know to fake,
To serve and to make.
The future with our touch,
But it is only this much.

Sad it is to know,
That every one is a foe.
Every voice is cruel,
Forwarded to a crazy duel.

It is not warm,
Like a barren farm.
Every thing is strange,
Which needs a swift change.

To lift up the spirit of a teacher,
Like a filmed feature.
Motivate and raise desire,
Like the warm bright fire.

Thus I urge,
To let my soul merge.
With the heavenly dove,
To bestow love.

Not bothered with critics,
Not swayed by mystics.
I travel my road,
With my undying code.

To this life I commit,
My life I submit.

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