"examinations" poems
WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge,
There are points of high silence-twiddling of thumbs is at an end-bailiffs near cuspidors take fresh chews of tobacco and wait-and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard.
A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty" to enter motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with bitter wrongs mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many preposterous, unjust circumstances.
7.5k
I remember the first time
I felt panic, I
Had been raised in a beautifully-constructed world of my mother’s making where I could
Take my time and step from subject to subject like hopscotch or skipping rope because I wanted to know it all
Drinking it all in, soaking in knowledge like a bath
Learning everything there was to learn
Leaving no stone unturned
No one told me I couldn’t
Swirl my fingertips in acrylics, read books on horses having *** at age seven because I wanted to be a veterinarian, hit the soprano notes though I was an alto, crush dandelions into healing potions, create a world on a stage with crying child actors, nick cardboard boxes and clocks because I knew I could move time backwards
Then I grew up and
The grown-up world was not so forgiving
Examinations, papers, time clocks, meetings, expectations I could not meet with the excellence my soul craved
I can’t breathe
Fear had a choke-hold on my throat
My mouth would dry, then wet as my stomach swirled and groaned with nausea
My hands turned into ice picks
My heart screamed like a jackhammer in concrete
Every possible worst-case, best-case, win-win, lose-lose, lose-win scenario would rush and overthrow my amygdala like a union mob besieging an abusive factory that never closes, never lets them rest
I didn’t realize it was because the only way to do it all and be it all and hit every deadline and finish every task was to sacrifice perfection, to become average, mediocre
Assimilate
And I learned the truth
That that was all the world expected of me anyway
You see there is no patience for anything else in the real world
I can’t breathe
I have no emotion, only thought processes
Paralyzing, debilitating clash between suppressed desires to take my time, create, innovate, learn and the overwhelming need to
Focus, decide, move faster, work harder, be on time, be better, please everyone, be everything
Be nothing
To where the only choice is let go of that part of yourself or go insane
So I shed my skin like it was a sin I was leaving behind
Just to survive
Without the headaches, the heartbreak, ripping my hair out over stupid little mistakes
It’s taken this long to find it in my closet again
To not be afraid
Of the soul it takes to
Perfect
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
It positively affects my mood.
I become more independent of the society, I help people with their stuff and entertain them with my poems, stories, couplets, jokes, essays, songs & guitar.
I also take to first-hand social service whenever possible and I've also taught some underprivileged children & imparted elementary education to them.
I get my poetry ideas from this activity.
I think & feel differently about the world.
I look the others into their eyes with piercing confidence and I think you never had that confidence.
I feel stronger & more in control.
My appetite has greatly improved from being a poor eater in my childhood to a healthy eater in my adulthood.
My virility isn't affected at all and instead, I gain more stamina and manliness; my tool is strengthened.
My imagination power, IQ and hence smartness is also increased - believe me these have actually increased.
I cleared 9 & 10 examinations in my engineering degree two different times at one attempt each and my response time is greatly improved.
I become more confident.
My strength isn't reduced, but I go to the gym and I exercise as good as others.
My power & force are perfectly normal.
My eyes are shining bright, dark black in the middle of pure white.
I have never got any dark circles.
It takes me no more than 10 minutes to recover completely, it depends on the body about how it performs.
Over-use of anything - even oxygen as it oxidizes body & mind - is utterly harmful.
Quality has become thicker & brighter each day I exercise.
So keep hands on your tools than some ****** books blaspheming against the new-found rage.
Consult an expert instead of developing your own stories or believing the same old ****** stories.
Everything has a limit and within that limit, it is extremely enjoyable.
Just one last tip: Keep yourself humane with yourself & don't become a dumb & helpless addict to get embarrassed in front of your family one day.
Now if you feel that I'm spreading blasphemy & bad thoughts, you may please stop reading my poems instead of cursing me in vain.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
Our wilier webs
woven with the distractions of self-absorption
can come to feel
cheated if we use them
only for halfhearted games of catch
and eventual release.
He’d overlooked that part.
Then there was an obligation to prey
who so willingly strayed upon the taffy
pull of his sweet and sticky strands.
The scrunch up of their wee faces
squeaked, “We deserve
to have our glued-down expectations
met with a most gruesome expertise.”
He’d just wanted to watch them
struggle a smidge,
at first.
It was a test if this muscle the scribes
ascribe as rightly plagued by pangs
was in him
perhaps despicably defective.
With each tripper-by trapped
the examinations grew
more tortuously complex,
and when none raised even
the slightest murmur of a palpitation,
he gave the web its dripped-dry due,
at last.
“The murderous truth will out,”
they say. It did, monstrously.
Now his bound but gagless masques
are always well-attended.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 7:40 AM UTC
If I must bleed for you.... I will
willingly take the lashing
of their wagging tongues
let them mock me and cast me down
they cannot break me
I will always rise up again
hang me high for your cross examinations
brought you no closer to the truth
white dove against the darkness offered light
why then could you not see
I love you.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
She wore her strength on her sleeves
in the form of intricate tattoos,
to her all that matters is what she believes
and she'll conquer the world in her black shoes.
Her hair was dark, reaching her waist
and her eyes were the best of jade,
her examinations she all aced
her mind being as sharp as a blade.
Named after a ruthless killer
but with a heart made of gold,
she doesn't mind a thriller
her story will be told.
In a world full of magic
and light and darkness,
her story ends in tragic
but she was never heartless.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
I sometimes feel that I don't feel
Irony isn't it ?
But it isn't so.
I do feel things.
I do feel cared when someone cares for me.
I do feel when someone is being friendly with me.
I do feel that I have got feelings for her.
I do feel happy when I make my parents proud and happy.
I do feel loved when my younger brother calls me "Bhaiya".
I do feel responsible when my lovely sister puts her head on my
shoulder.
I do feel bad when my parents scold me.
I do get hurt when she ill-treats me.
I do feel ignored when she dodges my call.
I do feel irresponsible when my assignments aren't complete on time.
I do feel wasted when I don't get good grades.
I do get panicked when my examinations are close.
I do feel ecstatic when someone wishes me.
I do get bored with "stupid talks".
I do feel ambitious when some opportunities come across.
I do feel good when I see some "beautiful" girls.
I do feel happy when I see kids playing.
Yeah, I feel things.
But I'm scared
I'm scared that if I let myself be happy for one minute, then my
world's going to come crashing down.
That's why I keep a distance from "being happy".
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
an item of importance
has just come to hand
so listen to the article
which is on the news stands
preventative health message
maybe of some use to all
paying attention
to your private parts
is the call
the ******* and the prostate gland
require a little investigation
every now and then
to ensure that they are
in good working order
for all you ladies and gentlemen
regular
*****
and
prostate
examinations
detected
abnormalities
which
are
abominations
pick
up
the
telephone
and
make
an
appointment
with
your
family
GP
if
you
discover
anything
that
isn't
quite
as
it
should
be
early detection of cancer cells
may mean a longer life
putting off an examination
may shorten your life
the ******* and prostate gland
need you to take care of them
heed
the
call
all
you
ladies
and
gentlemen
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Solitude brings it out of the creature
It's confusion apparent to the greater
M.I.N.D
Through the maze it scurries
Beneath the surgical lights
It could be the starvation
Violence its only outlet
Learned from old books and tapes
It easily outsmarted the psychiatrist
Memorizing the answers to the examinations
It always says the right thing
planting lies in the right light
Watering them when the time calls
One night it will chew and hack its way
Through the gleaming, sterile walls
To live forever among the trees and grass
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
I am waiting for you.
I have been since your last call;
the last words that left your lips,
the way they shaped each sound,
crisp with feeling;
the last hold I received,
warm hands withdrawn into the cold.
And now I’m busy playing your constant, forever
eternal mind games;
waiting for an end I know has to happen,
and waiting for you to make your moves and marks,
haunting mistakes or gracious choices,
whatever they happen to be in your mind.
And now I’m busy holding my heart in my hands,
watching all the people pass me waiting on the ***** street,
feeling awkward,
feeling stood up,
nursing it from the rain
and polluted breaths of people eyeing off my treasure,
smoke steaming from gaping mouths and sharp exhales,
like cascades of shining gems and mounds of
glorious entitlements, rolling down dreams
to those huddled beneath the city lights.
And now I’m busy deciding how long to keep
holding it.
Or to place it back inside it’s chest;
to thrum and pulse alone regardless, because I told it to.
And now I’m busy trying to adjust,
to leave this alone,
move my feet and leave my post,
waiting for you.
Keeping me and you alive is exhausting.
Draining nuture and tears, touches and examinations
to check that we are ok.
Are we ok?
I haven’t heard from you in weeks, but
you said you would be here.
To tell me your answer.
To make all this relentless pressure in my skull,
tension in my body
go away.
What happened to you not being the bad guy?
Like everyone who trailed crumbs of running-out love,
driving to me though the gas tank has finite space,
and held out commitment as they cowered behind it.
I haven’t heard from you.
And I desperately need to hear from you.
Should I stay, or should I go?
Are we meeting halfway, or are you expecting me to walk to you?
But I’m not.
I haven’t heard from you.
And I don’t know if I want to anymore.
Or whether I should just make this stop.
Whether I should stop denying it, and commence the
pain that stems with loneliness myself.
To be honest with myself that it is what I have to feel.
To escape from you.
And let myself
breathe and mouth the words
‘I miss you’
to the empty air.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 5:56 AM UTC
Me: I am a weird guy.
You: Well, who isn't weird?
Me: True enough, but I am a bit more weird.
You: Alright, go on, tell me your story.
Me: I met with a life-threatening road accident.
You: So what, several do, even I did.
Me: I was in a 23-day comatose state.
You: That's interesting, what had happened?
Me: I was hit by this idiot on the highway.
You: Who was at mistake - you or him?
Me: Both, I was over-speeding and he turned without any indication.
You: What was your approximate speed that day?
Me: Around 90, it's a highway, you can't expect me to drag my bike below that speed.
You: Alright, but in the end your life went off the track.
Me: My fourth semester exams were going to be held 10 days later, I was made to shift my college due to circumstances.
You: That means you're at loss in the end, what happened to the other biker?
Me: A good man took me to the hospital and noted the other bike's registration number.
You: You are still at loss.
Me: Yes and no. I have accepted that the accident had happened.
You: What happened with your studies?
Me: I started life again at the new college sans any older friends but I have performed what they term 'miraculous' as I cleared 10 examinations at a go instead of the regular 5 examinations to end a semester.
You: Very good, but be careful now on. (Admiring me inside)
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
As a child, it was not I, but my mother
Who loved mud
Every morning of my adolescence
I observed my mother in her rituals
She kept a special red tin
Full of her desired delicacy
She would toss the tin cap aside
Eyes weary and hands slow
She would scoop a few cups into a machine
Without thought, or hesitation
She would fill up the mud *** with water
Glancing toward the pre-measured dashes
And pour it into the contraception
As she closed the top she would often say
"Good morning son, how did you sleep?"
My reply was always the same, "good"
Not in disrespect, but because served me to be short
Plus I had further examinations
A few minutes would pass and the mud
Would be begin to boil
And drip into the largest compartment
Once it's bubbling and popping subsided
She would find a ceramic cup
Pouring it herself up to the brim
Hovering over its steam
Clasping the dish close to her
When she was done and I was feeling daring
I'd sneak to her dismissed glassware
Wipe my finger against the bottom
Stick it in my mouth
Without fail my face would pucker
And my mother, as if to add to the dream
Would say something like
"You should have added sugar and cream"
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
God is a great teacher and we are His students
He prepares examinations for us
Which He knows according to the level of our strengths
He even knows we will pass His tests
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 7:04 AM UTC
Day and night I study for my exams
Draining out the might from my body
Tell me the use of tests
Which are like everyday pests
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
Dear students Examinations denote
That you and teachers clearly emote
Their feelings out and try to devote
Their time and energy for this rowboat.
Mind that nurtures it will surely vote
Their success to teacher to roam afloat.
Let be a doctor, teacher or student tote
Examinations did need a nice quote.
Whether you be known or remote
Is decided by many reports wrote.
Evil or bad about exams is misquote
By all as it leads us to get more groat.
Ravana like teachers do connote:
Exams are tiny tot like just a mote.
The only tool which writes footnote
For children and save them from a dote.
Lastly, it is just like Gita a good keynote.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:19 AM UTC
Peaked and parked atop a hill
taking in my sense's fill.
Below my feet pastures fantastic,
works of wonder, spirit magic.
Classic examinations
virtuous root of patience
scents of wind & grass & grain
muffled rustles, passing trains
Perhaps I'll hop a boxcar,
listen to the passing night.
Lay down in fields & watch stars
track paths, signs of Heaven's might.
Littlest bits bloom in silence
in fits & bursts, acts of violence.
Kisses, sums of love dispersed,
gusts of blood & bone & Earth
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Softer,
smarter
than men,
they
smell better,
too.
Certainly
a subject
for a
lifetime
of study.
The final
examinations
can be fun,
as well.
But about
the time
you become
arrogant
enough
to consider
yourself
an expert,
their unique
beings
will slap
you silly.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
i have been tired from
much stress from studying for
examinations
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Who the **** is Jane Austen and
why the **** do we consider her works masterpieces?
Jane "boring" Austen lived an ordinary life and wrote very articulate
and pointedly ordinary examinations of character and mundane things
such as first impressions, and virtue, and proper court manners
She is the equivalent of an Oscar-winning author, because she has
mastered the art of being stunningly, fascinatingly mediocre.
She is precisely in the middle, and so balanced there that we applaud her
verbal gymnastics skills.
Works like these don't seem to carry an opinion of much of anything,
They just kind of blankly exist,
the kind of production that, if turned into a movie,
would have a nice, bland, Enya soundtrack.
There are no tears, nothing to make you feel,
It acts to make you numb,
leave you with a vague sense of discomfort and frustration, like
"What's eating gilbert grape" or "little miss sunshine"
in that everyone agrees blindly that they're good, but
they're not exactly sure why they're good, because
they're too close to life and too far away, there's nothing real,
it's too unpleasant to ignore and too familiar to watch.
It's useless, I can see this **** every day,
movies and books are about extraordinary life, to inspire us,
change something,
not just to make us okay with how stagnant we are,
or to examine our stagnation.
These books don't change anything.
I refuse to read or to write anything that steps around
the eggshells that are the fragile opinions and egos of
this, the 'everybody gets a trophy' generation,
I will not submit to anything less than feral reality and a
crazy, completely insane world, because that's what it is
my beautiful blood is more than beautiful,
it's wild and hot and pumps faster with every gasping breath,
and it deserves literature worthy of the heart that holds it.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
The only thing which restrain
Our progress and does train
Us to locate the farthest wain
And show us how we are wane.
Exams by force does restrain
Our growth changes into inane.
We found nobody to explain
Why teachers called exams profane.
Examination is the only restrain.
We studied some poems in quatrain
Or formulas of gases like butane;
And some more inert gases methane.
We saw fields growing sugarcane.
Examination is the only restrain.
But always needed one to explain
Why is exam dissolved in design?
If you too feel the same constrain
Join me and poems to liberty regain.
Examination is the only restrain.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
Examinations is like a blain –
It is like a teacher with a cane;
Rules and decrees do clearly lain
To discourage us purpose main.
We are made scared and wane
Many a times makes us insane
Brain is trained by it to strain.
Exams are, for students, like sprain
In which they are controlled by rein.
But, few say exams make us crane
Which make us see out future pane.
Those suffered with zero only complain
That they had been disfavoured *******
To get through it we need good arcane
Which many failures ready to abstain.
Can students have a nice campaign
To refer the exams a challenge plain?
Let’s use it as a tool success to attain
And not complain against it again.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
From close up
I am deceived of what I feel
Doubting myself
Asking, "do I really love this guy?"
But far away
I say I love you,
Or I simply say your name
And a grin spreads from ear to ear
Close up, I love the feeling of your arms around me,
The hearing of your voice and feeling the rolling vibrations come off your throat, your scent so comforting
Far away, I long for them, to feel your arms, to hear and feel you speak, to be with you
Your words of love make my heart float above the surface and far into the clouds
But I sink back down to the seafloor with self-deprecation
And anchor myself with insecurities, past horrors, regret and fear
Am I holding myself back?
Is it that I do not love myself?
Am I fooling myself completely?
I'm not certain if what I feel is real
I don't want to play with your heart
Tis a delicate matter
I don't want to lie to you if I'm not certain
Or maybe my mind hasn't registered the message from my heart
Maybe it's just me
Maybe I need to step back from this tree of belief
And reexamine from afar
Maybe give it more time
I apologize for the confusion
Back to the regularly scheduled programming
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
If quizzes are quizzical
and bibles be biblical
are mystics too mystical
for passing their physical?
So does that mean
Tests
are just … short examinations ?
‘Cough please.’
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Hollow she preens.
Forever correcting herself before her own glass ceiling.
Like routine examinations throughout the day to ensure she is in working order.
Though she is falling apart.
Hair is too flat and makeup runs away.
She is beautiful.
I could never bring myself to tell her.
Though I long for her to know that she and I do not see eye to eye.
Yet, she is the apple of mine.
So we'll both remain in misery.
And miles apart.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC