#assignments - Hello Poetry

(a series of micro vignettes) Chella and I are reading our analysis assignments together because that’s how we link and build. We read out loud too, because how else can you judge the flow? When my phone, lying on the table, jiggled. The caller ID read, “Tommy’s girlfriend.” Chella gave me a little look. “I never change anyone’s ID,” I confessed. “Neither do I.” Cellia agreed. “She broke up with him years ago..” I feel sorry for panhandlers, I don’t see them often but I saw one yesterday. Who carries cash any more (Noone)? Along the same line, Chella and I are wired, it-girls - we’re noise cancelled. Were you talkin’ to us? We’re hard to engage, not because we’ve got attitude - we just can’t hear you. It’s irritating when I have to tap-out of some stream to hear people. Even if it’s the waiter from the bistro downstairs delivering their exemplary frozen-strawberry-smoothies and burgers. Later, after the pool, we showered. As I was toweling my hair, I studied myself in the mirror. “My skin is SO ******* up,” I moaned, “I need a ‘rescue spa’ ****** Let’s go to New York (city)—I’m taking you there.” “There’s a ‘Forever Young Spa’ on Beacon street.. about a mile from here,” Cellia offered. “Ever been there?” I asked. “No, but the ad says they have an AI-powered massage robot. I’m curious.” “Ooo! Call ‘em up, see if it does happy-endings.” I laughed. “We could get a home unit.” Cellia updogged. “I think we’d need the industrial version,” I added, “that’s the sell.” . . A little playlist for this: Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne Goodbye by The Sundays Our cast: Chella, A tall, lithe black girl, from Liberty City (Miami) Florida. She's a Harvard Master's candidate with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs’ from Yale. She had it rough growing up - she was buying skin-care at Trader Joes! I'm showing her some things. Your author, a simple trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia and a Harvard Master's candidate with a Bachelor of Science in Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry from Yale.

0

Jul 12, 2025

Jul 12, 2025 at 10:54 AM UTC

anaisvionet

that’s the sell

(a series of micro vignettes) Chella and I are reading our analysis assignments together because that’s how we link and build. We read out loud too, because how else can you judge the flow? When my phone, lying on the table, jiggled. The caller ID read, “Tommy’s girlfriend.” Chella gave me a little look. “I never change anyone’s ID,” I confessed. “Neither do I.” Cellia agreed. “She broke up with him years ago..” I feel sorry for panhandlers, I don’t see them often but I saw one yesterday. Who carries cash any more (Noone)? Along the same line, Chella and I are wired, it-girls - we’re noise cancelled. Were you talkin’ to us? We’re hard to engage, not because we’ve got attitude - we just can’t hear you. It’s irritating when I have to tap-out of some stream to hear people. Even if it’s the waiter from the bistro downstairs delivering their exemplary frozen-strawberry-smoothies and burgers. Later, after the pool, we showered. As I was toweling my hair, I studied myself in the mirror. “My skin is SO ******* up,” I moaned, “I need a ‘rescue spa’ ****** Let’s go to New York (city)—I’m taking you there.” “There’s a ‘Forever Young Spa’ on Beacon street.. about a mile from here,” Cellia offered. “Ever been there?” I asked. “No, but the ad says they have an AI-powered massage robot. I’m curious.” “Ooo! Call ‘em up, see if it does happy-endings.” I laughed. “We could get a home unit.” Cellia updogged. “I think we’d need the industrial version,” I added, “that’s the sell.” . . A little playlist for this: Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne Goodbye by The Sundays Our cast: Chella, A tall, lithe black girl, from Liberty City (Miami) Florida. She's a Harvard Master's candidate with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs’ from Yale. She had it rough growing up - she was buying skin-care at Trader Joes! I'm showing her some things. Your author, a simple trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia and a Harvard Master's candidate with a Bachelor of Science in Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry from Yale.

26

#*Assignments to do Says ‘The Moodle’ I navigate through Zoom And doodle my dreams On the screen Classroom to classroom The dashboard croons A melody incomprehensible Moodle knows the notes Meet on the wisdom page Says ‘The Sage’ Surrender to knowledge At your wanting door*#

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Jul 15, 2024

Jul 15, 2024 at 2:56 PM UTC

sarita-aditya-verma

Cursory glances

#*Assignments to do Says ‘The Moodle’ I navigate through Zoom And doodle my dreams On the screen Classroom to classroom The dashboard croons A melody incomprehensible Moodle knows the notes Meet on the wisdom page Says ‘The Sage’ Surrender to knowledge At your wanting door*#

13

Tuesday lasses we all have classes get up and go there’s no time to waste join the flow there’s no reason to wait everyone’s hustling coffee guzzling bus shuttling paper shuffling syllabus assessing apple-watch checking there’s a fall-like feeling making things more appealing file off of the bus and join the crush trudging up science hill thru the doors up the stairs climbing in pairs, in class, at last, setup and relax. I open my binder and hand in the assignment the guy beside me can’t find it. and the TA moves on the guy’s upset and I get it he’s frantic and grim I pretend I’m not watching him as he ransacks his rucksack too late, they’re taking roll carelessness takes its toll

0

Sep 19, 2023

Sep 19, 2023 at 12:23 PM UTC

anaisvionet

Tuesday morning

Tuesday lasses we all have classes get up and go there’s no time to waste join the flow there’s no reason to wait everyone’s hustling coffee guzzling bus shuttling paper shuffling syllabus assessing apple-watch checking there’s a fall-like feeling making things more appealing file off of the bus and join the crush trudging up science hill thru the doors up the stairs climbing in pairs, in class, at last, setup and relax. I open my binder and hand in the assignment the guy beside me can’t find it. and the TA moves on the guy’s upset and I get it he’s frantic and grim I pretend I’m not watching him as he ransacks his rucksack too late, they’re taking roll carelessness takes its toll

31

I can't see my future, with my present sight, but mother says that I will be alright. I have been skipping online classes as of late; assignments turned cold, piled up on my plate. I am uncertain of what the future holds, certainly apprehensive of tomorrow.

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May 31, 2021

May 31, 2021 at 4:47 PM UTC

Him

Tomorrow.

I can't see my future, with my present sight, but mother says that I will be alright. I have been skipping online classes as of late; assignments turned cold, piled up on my plate. I am uncertain of what the future holds, certainly apprehensive of tomorrow.

3

“Where is the assignment?” You ask a question the philosophers have argued over “Didn’t do it, sir.” “Why? Because..because… Where do I even begin— I usually begin with stories They fly in through the window, peck at me Until I emerge out of my cotton caverns Today, they brought along a fox, orange like melting sun She hid under my bed and didn’t crawl out until I sacrificed to her some of my food had travelled villages and trees in search of her child Streams and bridges and bushes, she had asked told me of a little, blind boy with a ***** sack He wandered about streets, and parks Every turn memorised over years— every fortunate bin. His scarred hands searching for softness— of half-eaten fruits and soggy breads— of cloths. Dry papers, he collected and sold to people unseen He slept on the grass, sang songs and gave her food Then one day she waited but he never came Then one more, and one more, then— But you don’t want a story, do you? right. Uses of crystalline solids. “I’m sorry.” “Were you sick?” Sick? Yes, I was sick. But not like that girl, over there, With a runny nose and funny coughs I was sick with strange blisters just under my skin. they itched and burned, and I could not calm them down Instead I winced. I curled up like an injured worm And when the doctor asked me where it hurt I said nowhere I said there was a campfire inside me I said the fish hanging over it had turned to coal wild-grass soup was spilling out the *** it’s hisses in flames I said the people had fought themselves to deaths And now the fire was alone, and the camps too And the mother fish calling for her son And the moon, And the bodies— But he said it was just my brain talking “No.” “Did you have to go somewhere?’ I did. Past the raging seas, beyond all mighty peaks, I followed a jolly fairy to the hidden garden where all dead flowers go. “No, sir.” “Any guests?” A guest, I did. But I didn’t invite him. I don’t even know his name. He banged in through my locked door A hazy grey shadow with two horns, four fangs and many claws He ate nicely and didn’t judge my dying plants He made a blanket fort out of my unfolded clothes, we had a tea-party, I painted his claws pink, braided his fur he crafted me a paper-sword And we duelled till our weapons creased and sun stopped burning Then we sang together in our husky voices And I’d tell you more but I swore to protect him. “No, sir. I did not.” “Then where’s the assignment?” “I forgot.” I didn’t forget. I sat down to write but my brain started talking. It talked and talked and didn’t cease. Not until I hid back in my caves and walked away from the night. “I’ll give it tomorrow.” Uuh... “You sure?” You ask a question the philosophers have— “Yes, sir. sure. I’ll give it tomorrow.” Bless tomorrow.

0

Jan 20, 2021

Jan 20, 2021 at 2:43 PM UTC

Ayesha

The assignment

“Where is the assignment?” You ask a question the philosophers have argued over “Didn’t do it, sir.” “Why? Because..because… Where do I even begin— I usually begin with stories They fly in through the window, peck at me Until I emerge out of my cotton caverns Today, they brought along a fox, orange like melting sun She hid under my bed and didn’t crawl out until I sacrificed to her some of my food had travelled villages and trees in search of her child Streams and bridges and bushes, she had asked told me of a little, blind boy with a ***** sack He wandered about streets, and parks Every turn memorised over years— every fortunate bin. His scarred hands searching for softness— of half-eaten fruits and soggy breads— of cloths. Dry papers, he collected and sold to people unseen He slept on the grass, sang songs and gave her food Then one day she waited but he never came Then one more, and one more, then— But you don’t want a story, do you? right. Uses of crystalline solids. “I’m sorry.” “Were you sick?” Sick? Yes, I was sick. But not like that girl, over there, With a runny nose and funny coughs I was sick with strange blisters just under my skin. they itched and burned, and I could not calm them down Instead I winced. I curled up like an injured worm And when the doctor asked me where it hurt I said nowhere I said there was a campfire inside me I said the fish hanging over it had turned to coal wild-grass soup was spilling out the *** it’s hisses in flames I said the people had fought themselves to deaths And now the fire was alone, and the camps too And the mother fish calling for her son And the moon, And the bodies— But he said it was just my brain talking “No.” “Did you have to go somewhere?’ I did. Past the raging seas, beyond all mighty peaks, I followed a jolly fairy to the hidden garden where all dead flowers go. “No, sir.” “Any guests?” A guest, I did. But I didn’t invite him. I don’t even know his name. He banged in through my locked door A hazy grey shadow with two horns, four fangs and many claws He ate nicely and didn’t judge my dying plants He made a blanket fort out of my unfolded clothes, we had a tea-party, I painted his claws pink, braided his fur he crafted me a paper-sword And we duelled till our weapons creased and sun stopped burning Then we sang together in our husky voices And I’d tell you more but I swore to protect him. “No, sir. I did not.” “Then where’s the assignment?” “I forgot.” I didn’t forget. I sat down to write but my brain started talking. It talked and talked and didn’t cease. Not until I hid back in my caves and walked away from the night. “I’ll give it tomorrow.” Uuh... “You sure?” You ask a question the philosophers have— “Yes, sir. sure. I’ll give it tomorrow.” Bless tomorrow.

77

Running to and fro Can't let the stress go Assignments piled up Due so soon All loom over me My impending doom Spanish, P.E., Creative Writing, Journalism, English, Biology And Finally; Math These grades I'm fighting I can't get it done chronologically Can't stick to one path Scattered mind Struggling to find The answers I seek. Tell me, how do I survive? How do I thrive, In a world where I am behind? Working to hard, Keeping it fresh in my mind Making a flashcard To help me find What I left behind A week and a half ago Right out the window Now I need to go back Through the window For the information I lack. - Jay M January 8th, 2020

0

Jan 8, 2020

Jan 8, 2020 at 5:51 PM UTC

Wandering_Spirit

Catch-up

Running to and fro Can't let the stress go Assignments piled up Due so soon All loom over me My impending doom Spanish, P.E., Creative Writing, Journalism, English, Biology And Finally; Math These grades I'm fighting I can't get it done chronologically Can't stick to one path Scattered mind Struggling to find The answers I seek. Tell me, how do I survive? How do I thrive, In a world where I am behind? Working to hard, Keeping it fresh in my mind Making a flashcard To help me find What I left behind A week and a half ago Right out the window Now I need to go back Through the window For the information I lack. - Jay M January 8th, 2020

30

I have five papers to write Three projects to do Stay up all night Just to barely get through Head to the library For another three hours Every moment scary These assignments horrors On my way, I stop A tree orange and red I decide to drop And lay down my head Life's meant to be fun Not a bunch of facts Or homework to get done So it's time to relax

0

Oct 20, 2016

Oct 20, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC

BrettJPalmero

Relaxin'

I have five papers to write Three projects to do Stay up all night Just to barely get through Head to the library For another three hours Every moment scary These assignments horrors On my way, I stop A tree orange and red I decide to drop And lay down my head Life's meant to be fun Not a bunch of facts Or homework to get done So it's time to relax

16

Oh! Smart Bro. How convenient of you Cool, fast, smooth, everything is in you So much that even gadgets love you And the reason for us choosing you. The reason why my assignments made it through The reason why I can watch movies and new The reason for my techie life's blue Is because of me relying to you. Too bad, it didn't last a year or two Being quick and smooth stopped too Now, I had enough of you Shall we buy another and discard you?

0

May 27, 2014

May 27, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC

ruzzia-festejo

My broadband...

Oh! Smart Bro. How convenient of you Cool, fast, smooth, everything is in you So much that even gadgets love you And the reason for us choosing you. The reason why my assignments made it through The reason why I can watch movies and new The reason for my techie life's blue Is because of me relying to you. Too bad, it didn't last a year or two Being quick and smooth stopped too Now, I had enough of you Shall we buy another and discard you?

12