"enrolled" poems
My name is Ashly (yes spelled without
the E)
I was born without a windpipe and was 3 months premature.
I underwent surgery for a tracheostomy and died on the operating table.
I was revived.
I was hooked up to many machines and my parents were told I wouldn’t live for more then 3 days...
If I would survive more then 3 days I would be hooked up to machines my whole life and be in a “vegetative state”
Doctors told my parents and family “I would never live to see my 18th birthday.”
I lived in the hospital for almost 2 years.
At age 2, I myself, ripped out my tracheostomy (which could have killed me)
My family rushed me to children’s hospital and the doctors decided to let the hole in my neck close and see what happens.
My doctors don’t know how I made it through the night or days after.
I went home after a couple weeks and that’s when I started living my life as a “normal” child.
All of my sisters were involved in dance classes, my parents( doctors didn’t agree) enrolled me in to classes.
THATS WHERE MY LIFE CHANGED
Dance became my passion, along with gymnastics and musical theatre.
Something my family, doctors or even myself never thought I would EVER do.
On my 18th birthday it was a mixture of emotions.
I made a milestone that no one said I would ever see.
I competed in dance and gymnastics until I was 19 years of age as well as did over 60 musicals at my local theatre company.
I never thought I would ever have a boy love me because I had “too many problems” or even get married for that matter.
Fast forward, I am now almost 33 ( June .11th is my birthday)
Married for almost 8 years to my best friend.
Happy doesn’t even cover what I feel everyday waking up next to my love.
We may not have a “family” of our own but we are happy and in love over the moon with one another.
So why did I just ramble on with this?
Because I’m a MIRACLE and a SURVIVOR.
Even though I don’t remember much from my childhood and what I and my family had to endure, I have been fighter since my first breath.
I’M A SURVIVOR and I’VE MADE IT....
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
The young poet Evmenis
complained one day to Theocritus:
"I've been writing for two years now
and I've composed only one idyll.
It's my single completed work.
I see, sadly, that the ladder
of Poetry is tall, extremely tall;
and from this first step I'm standing on now
I'll never climb any higher."
Theocritus retorted: "Words like that
are improper, blasphemous.
Just to be on the first step
should make you happy and proud.
To have reached this point is no small achievement:
what you've done already is a wonderful thing.
Even this first step
is a long way above the ordinary world.
To stand on this step
you must be in your own right
a member of the city of ideas.
And it's a hard, unusual thing
to be enrolled as a citizen of that city.
Its councils are full of Legislators
no charlatan can fool.
To have reached this point is no small achievement:
what you've done already is a wonderful thing."
4.2k
I often wonder what it's like,
To have a led a very different life,
Where camera flashes
And fans gate crashing concerts
Are really rather normal;
A life where sword throwing
And fire eating
Is how you earn your livings;
A journey where you are enrolled in other lives
And act a million more;
A destination, a goal, a life,
Where it isn't just plain old me.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
716
The Day undressed—Herself—
Her Garter—was of Gold—
Her Petticoat—of Purple plain—
Her Dimities—as old
Exactly—as the World—
And yet the newest Star—
Enrolled upon the Hemisphere
Be wrinkled—much as Her—
Too near to God—to pray—
Too near to Heaven—to fear—
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care—
Her Candle so expire
The flickering be seen
On Ball of Mast in Bosporus—
And Dome—and Window Pane—
2.2k
Erewhile, before the world was old,
When violets grew and celandine,
In Cupid's train we were enrolled:
Erewhile!
Your little hands were clasped in mine,
Your head all ruddy and sun-gold
Lay on my breast which was your shrine,
And all the tale of love was told:
Ah, God, that sweet things should decline,
And fires fade out which were not cold,
Erewhile.
2k
Everyone's got their own to nurse
Every moment, every day
They lament in the verses of their curse
Daily... More would be incited to join the fray
They want to be seen and heard
They want to be consoled
From the petty absurd
To death's design enrolled
Counting on ready ears
And arms open wide
For me to wipe my tears
And be by their side
But I too, am living my own
I too, bleed my pen dry
I too, feel the misfit of my bones
I too, have my recurrent days to ply
I guess that's just being human
Expecting solace through words of grievance
We try so feebly to share the weight of burden
In the hopes that we'd plot our existence
I understand that the urge is great
So much so that we tend to forget
Others too, have had enough on their own plate
On which we pile our leftovers without regret
I am still here but.. It's time for some quiet
Be all I could be with minimal words said
For right now it's not working, this illusion of an outlet
Because I still see demons when I lay in bed
People can't do much with something so brittle
One could stay afloat if he learns to shout
I wish I could be more to everyone but I know so little...
Of what I feel so much about...
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
How many million galaxies there are
Who knows? and each has countless stars in it,
And each rolls through eternities afar
Beneath the threshold of the Infinite.
How is it that will all that space to roam
I should have found this mote that spins and leaps
In what unutterable sunlight, foam
Of what unfathomable starry deeps
Who knows!? And how this thousand million souls
And half a thousand million souls of earth
That swarm, all bound for unimagined goals,
All pioneers of death enrolled at birth,
How were they swept away before my sight,
That I might stand upon the single *****
Of infinite space and time as infinite,
Who knows? Yet here I stand, climacteric,
Having found you. Was it by fall of chance?
Then what a stake against what odds I have won!
Was it determined in God's ordinance?
Then wondrous love and pity for His son!
Or was it part of an eternal law?
Then how ineffably beneficent!
Each thought excites an ecstasy of awe,
A rapture rending the mind's firmament.
Infinity -yet you and I have met.
Eternity -yet hand in hand we run.
All odds that I should lose you or forget,
But, soul and spirit and body, we are one.
Is this the child of Chance, or Law, or Will?
Is None or All or One to thank for this?
It will not matter if thanksgiving fill
The endless empyrean with a kiss.
1.9k
There was a brave young man
Enrolled in the army.
He was a good fighter,
The best he can be.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
But one day, he met his match
The strokes were quick and deft,
He fell, blood pooled
Left there for death.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
Amidst the pain and nausea,
He vaguely felt a presence,
Supple arms lifted, nimble hands treated
Then it all faded from existence.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
Waking from a feverish sleep
Clean bandages across his chest,
He saw a figure in a different uniform
And immediately put her under arrest.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
She stared down the barrel,
Her glare cold and steady.
One eyebrow cocked, saying
"I just saved you. Now you're gonna **** me?"
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
He lowered the gun, ashamed
She smiled a crooked half-smile,
And ****** him a pack of medicine.
He took the package gratefully, though it smelled like bile.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
He studied her from top to toe.
Dark hair, tanned skin
A red cross on the foreign uniform
And a rifle at her feet.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
He started off by asking her
Why she had saved him.
She laughed, loud and free
And suddenly, things didn't seem so grim.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
Slowly, they opened up
And smiled some more
Talking bout all sorts of things
Till they got to the cause of war
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
Propaganda warps
Beliefs conflict
Peace and harmony are nowhere in sight,
In result, harm inflicted.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
Both parties fell silent
A cold barrier raised between
Then he cleared his throat and excused himself
Best they were not together, seen.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
Unbeknownst to them,
His comrade had tailed them
They were surrounded
Fighting would only bring about mayhem.
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
The rifles took aim
There was nowhere to run
The trigger was pulled
In its path, himself he flung
*With chaos and turmoil
A war divides
Nothing is certain, but
The truth it hides*
With his dying breath, he said
"I guess we're even now"
With a crooked smile,
His head did bow.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
When I was younger I was hoping to go to some private university instead I was enrolled in The School Of Hard Knocks against my will. I think that I started this school when I was a premature baby fighting for my life. Then in school were I experienced such strife
I further experienced this school when I married young and while I was trying to further my education my husband violently knocked me against the wall, with the help of neighbors I escaped and got to a safe place. I had to leave town and drop out of school.
The school of hard knocks can be so cruel. I wonder who makes the rules for this school
I've heard it said that experience is the best teacher you get the test first and the lessons afterwards in life there are many lessons to be learned, when I was a new parent I learned many and not every answer is found in books, you learn at times through trial and error
You love your children even when at times they don't treat you right
I am still learning from the school of hard knocks, it seems when I try to get ahead a little bit I get knocked down I feel like I might frown
I think I will get back up I have before, but I have some advice if The School Of Hard Knocks comes knocking at your door don't answer.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
Sitting in the exam, everyone was getting bored
May the time passes quickly, I was praying to the lord
Had studied, maybe there would be something to write
But it was no fault, on my side
Yesterday, came from home and didn't reached my destination
As I resorted myself, to a friend' s mansion
There we talked, laughed, ate and slept
Due morning, we realised something we had left
That we were meant to study, and prepare for the exam
Or else, get enrolled into the failer's memo scam
Still there is some time left, for the exam to be over
Till then I, will pretend to be sober
|AB|
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
My second year in college
I was enrolled in LGBT psychology
I had just contacted my insurance
Regarding the possibility of top surgery
Although the website included it
They told me they wouldn't cover it
My heart caved in on itself
And I knew it wasn't going to happen
Then one day during class
We had guest speakers there
One of them was a trans woman
Who had transitioned successfully
I was wholly inspired again and
When I asked her some questions
I began crying uncontrollably
I was surprised and embarrassed
In a way I knew she understood
And then I repressed that pain
I knew I'd have to wait for it and
I didn't want to hurt that much along the way
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
Stolen warmth gone for now, followed by melancholic uneventful sounds. When I walk, I walk away from seeing. Everything I thought I might've been. This skin trying to fly away from me, like a misplaced shadow searching for a body to shrug off its grief. Bending, arcing, aching thumbs that have too much memory to allow them any fun. The old time might have agreed, with the girl lost for at least three weeks. Sugar and a can of milk condensed, heated up over campfire coals in the woods near Libereć.
Twice I'm too scared to talk. After a boxing match with a raging bull. Staleness lingers over these sweating hips, where half a moon quaffs down Verdi's Requiems. I told you I'm hiding in the jungle now. Through these cufflinks I speak through a startled jowl. First that dying tone, the startling sound of a fading D Minor song. The mines of the forest grieve, until the hours born sell the rights to sleep. Taken and away from grief, where wiggling children's fingers are seen. Only to find the child was not a realty.
Let your hands make amends to me, whether you're here for the pistachio ice cream or vanilla almond dream. Princess pleas for a pauper's being.
Looks like the child bit off half it's tongue, to ignore all inquiries into where its gone. Minute games and clauses of flesh, I tie her up using her own belt. Chasing The Rockies for a festive blue, then I gorge myself while she enrolled me too. Quiet bandits filled with starlight.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Competition is bad ya good.
It creates or destroys carrier,
Toppers are enrolled to better future,
Losers are badly treated and lost there life also,
Losers never becomes toppers,
What is the meaning of Competition?
To make our life or ruin our life.
To achieve it whatever way,
By crook ya hook.
Where these competition stands, is begin or end of the world.
Why there is no equality or equal justice in world.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
Not many would better understand than me the meaning of first hand serving experience.
I volunteered and used to teach in a group called 'Swapan' (run by the social service group Nishqam of CITM Faridabad, now known as MRIU) which undertook imparting laborers' kids free education.
I don't believe in donating because I don't earn yet, but I volunteer whenever I am able to go out to their world. I just wait for the right time I get to be in contact with such people.
What I did in Swapan program was more than just teaching; we used to take care of their health by getting them periodic vaccination, by having them attend a regular school near our college, getting their fees deposited, organizing events for mustering funds for the same and many more.
But at the end of my 2nd year I met a serious accident, just prior to my 4th semester B.Tech-Biotech exams which pushed me into a 23 day coma; I was close to death. But I didn't lose my spirit even after I came back to my senses.
As the path of destiny had it, CITM became MRIU which didn't continue with the MDU degree I'm currently enrolled into. So I was made to shift colleges and go to Rohtak for college since then and there was no such opportunity anywhere in close proximity.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
The night was spiked with energy
like the charge of air
after a lightning strike
each and every one of them
had their own motives,
to drink,
to meet,
to experience,
to try,
to do,
to ****
to love,
to live,
to let come what may,
it was a night of suspension
freedom not from consequences
but the fear of consequences
a chance to relish in what their pastors' frowned upon
a chance to make their parents' disappointed
and for some,
just a chance
One was a pseudo-intellectual
he was a college learned man,
a phony philosopher
who was good at passing off trivia
as honest to god thoughts
trying to impress
some impressionable young thing
hoping for validation
One was a romantic
hopelessly addicted
to the fairer ***
with misplaced ideas
that he was
some sort of poet
and not just a spout of
pretentious,
whiny venting
just looking to get hopelessly lost
Another was an on the way sociopath
enrolled in the fraternity of the machismo
with every other word being
***** or ***** or ****
he wanted action
experiences to shape and harden
to be a fine edge
blessed with a fatal sharpness
he was looking for something
to prove his vulnerability
They all came together
people of all types
intolerant in the passing of time
their lives like so many grains of sand
falling in sand timer opulence
fear and inhibitions
slowly fading
like mixing whiskey and pain killers
they could live the night
to the beat of their own passion,
drives,
desires,
the night bent around their will
like moss creeping up fiber glass suburban houses
what did they care?
it was just another throw away night
in a long list
of thrown away nights
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
I was born in Lynchburg, Virginia
~
My family had lived in Virginia for about 10 years before I was born
~
We moved exactly 1 month later
~
I was extremely rambunctious due to my own father's genes
~
When I was 3 years old I had gotten this old antique piano
out of our new house's closet and began to play O' Christmas tree
with out any help
~
I was enrolled in ballet classes at about 4 years old
~
I had then gone to school for the first time at 6 years old
~
Nobody liked me in kindergarten. In fact I brought in a sign language book and all the teachers laughed at me. (I just thought it would be something cool to bring)
~
In 2007, my father had been diagnosed with a liver disease and the doctors had told him that they couldn't do anything about it. He was going to die
~
But, he went to a different doctor and they told him he would survive
~
He just wouldn't be able to do a lot of things like go to work or family vacations
~
In 6th grade I realized that I wanted to be an actress and get more in to singing.
~
I also wanted to be a singer. And a dancer. And an interior designer. And a youtuber. And a poet. And a musician.
~
So I decided to try out for show choir. Where I belong.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
The Church in its awesome majesty
Looked down, from over the hill,
From faith, to hope, to travesty
It stood, and is standing still,
So proud in its fine regalia
Its ritual, and never the least,
Its potent God who would wield his rod
Deter the jaws of the beast.
The Bishop of Saint Ignatius Church
Was a proud and holy man,
Who wouldn’t suffer the jibes of fools
From Rome to Afghanistan,
And certainly not those down the hill
In the new Masonic Lodge,
That beastly, secret doctrine that
He advised his flock to dodge.
He’d stand at the steps of his church and stare
Down at the barbarians,
He hated Lodges, he hated Mosques
And Rastafarians,
‘There shouldn’t be anyone else but me,
I hold the eternal God,
What gods they worship could never be,
For they’re all distinctly odd.’
While down at the Lodge of the Masons
They were cool with their golden rule,
They had to believe in a god as such,
But how, it was up to you.
For some would practice the Baptist faith,
And some Presbyterian,
While some enrolled in the Primitive state
Were a type of Wesleyan.
There was only a single Catholic
And he wore a glued on rug,
He wanted to still be young at heart,
Was known as the Grand HumBug,
The Antidiluvian Mason’s Guild
Was the name he’d chosen himself,
The others differed, but he was keen,
And he was the one with wealth.
Their God was known as the Architect,
They carried the masons tools,
The set square set them apart from all
The disbelievers and fools.
They worked on their secret rituals
And kept a goat at the back,
For leading a blindfold novice in
And guarding the Lodge from attack.
The Bishop heard that a Catholic
Was leading the Masons there,
He fumed, choked on his rhetoric, but
Was heard to firmly declare,
‘I will not shelter a wayward sheep
Who has taken to ways I hate,
The only fate for a traitor here
Is to excommunicate!’
He gathered a dozen priests to march
With candles, down to the Hall,
Surrounded the base heretic’s Lodge
And named HumBug in his call,
Sprinkled his holy water ‘til
It fizzed, and gave off a smell,
Doused his candle and closed his book,
Consigning the man to Hell!
But Humbug patted his glued on rug
Went out, untethered the goat,
He let it loose on the dozen Priests,
It butted the Bishop’s coat,
They ran in confusion up the street,
To the church, set up on the hill,
While the goat was hard at the Bishop’s heels
Like a demon released from Hell.
It butted the Bishop’s altar and
It charged, knocked over the font,
Scattered the pews for the devil’s dues
In a hellfire sacrament,
While HumBug muttered he might end up
In Hell, with his Mason’s sect,
But the Bishop’s God, had failed with his rod
In a clash with his Architect!
David Lewis Paget
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
This is a quick note
informing you that I
have enrolled
in "your geography 101."
I look forward to exploring
you from sea to shining sea,
your fruited plains,
your mountain tops,
your golden fields of sunlit grain,
your divided highways, causeways,
and often spread a luscious lunch upon the apron of your back roads.
For extra credit
I plan a thesis on your deltas,
spelunk your caves for glistening jewels,
swim your lachrimal lakes,
and pray that you keep me after school.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 7:42 AM UTC
I retired as a colonel and am aged 64 years now.
My son was enrolled in the army two years ago.
He turned 32 years & got married only last year.
Today I looked at the lawn and it needed a mow.
So I picked up the lawnmower and started to go.
A man in military fatigues was coming near now.
Not my son but another soldier from his row.
I was looking at his face that had said a big no.
The soldier came near & stopped to inform in a low but calm voice, 'Sir, I've brought his luggage,'
The words seared through my chest like a bullet.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
In need of escape, they fled for the ocean floor
he persuaded her, "I need you, take my hand"
They drew the curtains and locked the door
Discarded the rusty key on the rough sand
They waded through the forceful waves
That pushed them out, then pulled them in
And enrolled themselves as Queen Ocean's slaves
Commanded helplessly by her recurring din
Then strolling down the ocean bed
An imaginary staircase to an alter
With an imaginary priest where they would be wed
He knew her love for him would never falter
And that's how he knew he'd won
Even though he'd lost himself in the water
Because he had her now, the deed was done
All the while the waves just whispered; "love is manslaughter"
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Meeting in the canteen at lunchtime
Laughing at our immature jokes
The girls in room five
They know how to jive
You know they were the most unusual folks
Lord you know we were lucky
You know blessed we were
The way we were happy
Oh sweetest Lucia
Went to college in different cities
Mind disorders ate me alive
Lucy P called to say
I hope you're okay
You look like you forgot how to jive
Lord you know we were lucky
You know blessed we were
The way we were happy
Oh sweetest Lucia
Got the train to Kent to see Lucy
Lady enrolled in the arts
If we weren't friends
I'd go round the bend
Jealous of her marvellous smarts
Lord you know we are lucky
You know blessed we are
The way we are happy
Oh sweetest Lucia
Grown up now we rare see each other
Buried in our separate lives
But when we meet up
We swig from the cup
Yeah soon we remember to jive
Lord you know we are lucky
You know how blessed we are
The way we are happy
Oh sweetest Lucia
When we are old we'll be married
Maybe having tea in the day
Those girls from room five
Who knew how to jive
Yeah I think they really turned out okay
Lord you know we are lucky
You know how blessed we are
The way we are happy
Oh sweetest Lucia
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
they were like an
unexpected weight gain,
no choice but to adapt.
they came into his life
in a train wreck,
he fell head over heels
and wondered if he
had been enrolled back
into high school.
there was a catch,
much to his disdain.
11 and 19,
perpetually angry at
their father
at their mother
at life.
he was the blunt
victim of their rage.
the boy soon
redirected his rage
into drugs, alcohol,
*** jail.
the girl did not.
it was not his fault,
he would not let
her get to him.
but he did,
and she had grinned
at the murderous
fire in his eyes.
he screamed
and released his own
anger,
you're letting her ruin it
she knows what shes doing
shes ruining us
you're letting her ruin it
please listen to me.
tears glistened
down his cheeks,
she smiled.
he was gone,
though insults and
words remained.
that was 2 down, more to go.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
You're heartless and cold
Leaving my heart a mess
You pieced out your soul
Mine fell prey to your emptiness
Was it your plan to let go?
I wonder as I struggle with the process
I believed in what I was sold
You bragged like this was a side quest
I didn't notice I was enrolled
In your narcissistic contest
You were waiting for me to fold
Ready for another conquest
You reveled in my fall
You mocked my best
I gave you my all
You left me the rest
©2024
Aug 14, 2024
Aug 14, 2024 at 8:45 PM UTC
Wise men teach us
to discuss
about how important is
to do some studies and analyses,
just to know,
where our roots came from.
So, I’ve done a DNA test.
Guess!
Are you aware
- do you really care -
that your destiny
is, as the wise men said, in history?
Don't you know?
Man, don't be low!
So, I’d enrolled in the army.
Funny?
I went to war
to save and protect my DNA's pure core;
Since then I do sins
and I ****
different types of enemies
with unknown identities.
That is my duty,
Isn't beauty?
Isn't fun?
But now, I'm done.
Guess what I think I am:
a cruel criminal?
a modest hero?
Anyway, nobody will see tomorrow
how I will vanished, surprisingly,
In a outlandish history.
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 3:36 PM UTC