To Teach and Learn

 Another poem selected and edited for the School Magazine.  By Tshering Pem 11 Sci B We were a dot in the Himalayas, But our Kings put us on the World map, For many years now peace is unprecedented, Under the Wangchuck Dynasty. For a brighter and bigger sun to shine, On our people and for your country. Democracy was nurtured through the years, Until our noble Kings thought we were ready. Though democracy was a new shoe, With royal guidance we did play our role. A Government was voted to power by us, And it did live up to the aspirations we had. There is no regret for the votes we cast, Five summers ago when we wielded our first right. And those five summers passed by fast, But yielded rich fruits that everyone enjoyed. Like longing for the warm and beautiful sun, That sets to leave you cold in the winter evening, We harbor hope deep inside, To welcome the same sun again. Thought it is with empty hands and only words, W...

A poem selected and edited for the Annual School Magazine. Also a poem every teacher should read. Kinley Wangmo 12 Sci B When in disgrace with results, I was all alone and shamed in my outcast state. You were the one who held my hands And renewed me to my goals once again. In stress and tension I cried, But you taught me to fight back. You encouraged me not to give up, And inspired me to study harder. You taught me to cope with my emotions, You taught me how to deal with the ups and downs. When trouble made me suffer, You shone the light of solution. Like the bright sun illuminating the darkness, You rid the shadows of doubt. You help me realize my purpose in class, And in doing this I find Happiness. Thank you Teachers for this Happiness.

You flow with a mighty roar, Yet you sooth my tired ears. Songs you sing to me of the past, present, and future As I watch and flow with you. You are immortal like the Life you sing of, and You will continue to sing after I am gone. So please sing, sing with joy And let my poem be your song.

The Rain. The Rain plays on the steel roof, The Rain claps on the cemented floor, and The Rain beats on the leaves broad. ‘Tip, Trap, Trap, Tip…’ it sounds. Singing away with the worldly hue. It sings of a season new. ‘Tip, Trap, Trap, Tip…’ It says to the withering flower, ‘Worry not for here I am ‘. It promises to the waiting farmers, A hearty and prosperous season. It sings to the mellowed grasses, and Dances on the roof tops, Kissing away the heated Earth, Promising life and to nourish it.

Afternoon class. Drowsiness hangs heavy in the air, and The fan tries to do justice to its purpose. It swings it arms like a mad man. Below the students linger, With heads supported with pillar-arms. They try to pay heed to what I say. I send two of them to wash away their sleep, A joke brings back their consciousness, I continue my lesson but they receive, Every word like a lullaby Trying not to droop like rich red poppies, They hang on. Their eyes gain weight, Drawing all the energy from their body, They try to hold it open, But with hopelessness, strive. I pity them and myself, so I call it a day.