"slideshows" poems
i've never been
to any other
highschool
in my life.
therefore,
i cannot speak
for all schools.
but, i can speak
for my school.
about every other
student here is
a druggie.
which means
you have your choice
of two crowds.
but once you choose,
at the beginning
of your freshman year,
you can't change your mind.
and the teachers here
rarely teach.
they throw slideshows up
and blame you for not
paying attention
if you actually get
the nerve
to go up
and ask for help.
our principal
promotes
mental health,
but doesn't give any
resources for
mental breakdowns,
anxiety, or
depression.
sitting in classrooms
for eight hours,
with people you
can't stand,
with nowhere to go
will completely
destroy someone
especially someone
already
suffering.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
meadows that stays so green at spring
and so bared in autumn
magically white in winter
scorching and gold in the air of summers
perennial.
how do they do that?
to stay the same on the foundation
yet ever-changing on the surface.
what difference does it make really?
what kinds?
of the surcoats of hazel and acorns
or the blankets of snow on the slender branches
of trees?
don't they, even once
feel weary of all the undercurrents,
of shifting shapes of shadows?
and stand their ground
and shouted their demands
and push at intractable walls?
and flop down
and sift like flour
and grate like mozzarella?
to toss the gauntlet
say
'enough!'
doesn't anyone ever muses then
of whether the slideshows of nature
being flagrantly displayed and paraded
before their soon indifferent eyes
would feel of their performance.
but oh,
those poor meadows,
those poor meadows,
those pitiable meadows.
continue with your acts and scenes
that shall never pauses nor halt
oh no, no.
for you are impressive actors
on the forested stage
and the eyes, belligerent
yes, they are
will be watching the other way
never straight to your eyes
your artic, chilled
encasing a turbulent, melting, whirling
hot caramel core
yeap, right there on your irises and pupils.
so go on
go on
my delectable
my neglected
my pushover
my poor meadows.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
There was none of your itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie bikinis at a fashion show of vintage swimwear in aid of the Cleveland Pools.
The costumes on show on the catwalk at Green Park Station were a much more modest affair, with a lot less flesh on view, and with some very interesting costumes which seemed to amuse the younger audience.
The Vintage Swimwear fashion show celebrated the last 200 years of bathing suits – the pools celebrate their 200th birthday next year.
Costumes from the last two centuries were modelled down the catwalk, with some interesting reactions from the audience, many of them design or fashion students from Bath Spa University.
It was a great turnout according to Sally Helvey from the Cleveland Pools Trust.
"We had a great night, and it really was great fun," she said.
There was a bar and barbecue hosted by Green Park Brasserie, and ice cream from a vintage Humphry van.
The audience also enjoyed a photography booth, and picture and video slideshows.
The Cleveland Pools is the only surviving Georgian Lido in the country, with a beautiful outdoor pool nestling in the back woods by the River Avon near the Bathwick estate.
But it is very derelict and will need millions spent on it before it can be re-opened again to the public. Last summer the trust received the welcome news the amenity is to be granted more than £4 million from the Heritage Lottery Fund, so plans are in place to have the pools restored and open for use again possibly as early as 2017.
A lot more funding needs to be raised to try and match the funds given by the HLF, and the fashion show, organised by Bath Spa student Jenny Brown, was just one of many events being organised over the summer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♪ ♩ ♫
[for Snare Drum]
Client-centered, data-driven,
yet their sins are unforgiven.
Tweaking the assessment standard
while the Word of God is slandered.
Current practice (science-based)
meanwhile, souls are laid to waste.
Evidence-based evaluations
fail to stall abominations.
Power slideshows, bullet-pointed
bypass Christ, the Lord’s anointed.
Titled expert: talking wraith,
buzzword-based, devoid of faith.
Sources cited, praxis theorized.
Mankind’s plight ignored, unrealized.
Humankind enthroned, enshrined,
entombed in shadows yet unshined.
Branding, marketing, organized crime:
brother – can you spare a paradigm?
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
Memories haunt me,
Macabre slideshows,
In my mind
*
They twist and taunt me
The happiness,
That’s lost in time
*
The future looms
It’s soon to be,
Trapped within my memory
*
If it’s good I feel at ease
The outlook’s bright,
I smile.
*
Else I’m down
Upon my knees,
I drown in self denial.
Aug 2, 2011
Aug 2, 2011 at 1:15 PM UTC
I used to turn my brain off for days
But now I think in waves
Incessant slideshows
of you
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 6:52 PM UTC
As if I have been the long a waited
Radiation suffocating,
Patient in bed, empty men around me
Almost perfect now.
You carry your organs beautifully
Smiling wrinkles,
And in your words I can capture
Slideshows of your days
And nights also,
I spin them around in my mind
As I feed on daily doses
Of Ripened morphine
And self pity.
Soon you disappear and with you,
Another light bulb tickles itself
And shatters into darkness.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 2:05 AM UTC
We soar above the mystical white clouds
The only thing separating us is the translucent glass
We watch as it slideshows the roads we've surpassed
The city lights shine bright as we fly into the night
Above the city, above superior odds
At last, we feel in our hearts that we've won the fight
Against ourselves, against our fears,
Against the struggles, thick and thin
Against adversity, physical and mental, we'll continue to win
Our next journey awaits us, 1000 more miles to go
We are newly bred soldiers, we stand ready to roll
Transformed sons and daughters, we make our way home
The same hometown and same people await
Yet the graduates returning through the gates
Are now American soldiers, standing prouder than ever today
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
Dead leaves fall from a living tree,
captured by a breeze, to gather at my feet
tiny mounds
of earth browns
and ill-colored greens
piled on one another / rustling / serpentine screams
tiny graveyards
un-esteemed;
reminding me of last evening's
public television show (almost
appalling)
a special / they called it
on letters from the holocaust,
a reading / from surviving
members now grey and slowing
as they speak (aging)
in sepia slideshows during their
somber, teary-eyed recollecting;
lifting ghosts and rocks
heavy, from the moss
of their memory
silver photos of nannas, sisters,
brothers and fathers lost
fading details of the war
which time has (and they gladly)
frost, depressing
me with my big screen magnavox,
i remote control a pause...
&
still dead leaves of cemetary browns
and soldier greens,
lifeless and lifted by the wind
without empathy / or guilt of sins
an airy power, a commanding force / unseen
gathering / stems or limbs
of these casualties / of autumn
none following the flight
of concord cold fronts
clustering together / piled / inartistically
at my sandals, toes wriggling
crunching underneath my feet
weathered
death seems simple - like a mindless breeze,
natural and indifferent dust devils
it is the way of things
shifting graveyards of leaves
as if a memorial of use-to-be's
from a roar of sightless tragedies
memorium of wars
tombs of bodies / images of defeat
not so simple or beloved
the nature of such things
in these leaves i see
of thee i sing....
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
The slideshows keep on flashing in my eyes..
This sinless, innocent girl has grown to be wise..
From riding on a swing in the lap of my mother..
and sobbing secretly after fight with the brother..
The father's little Serin has built up her wings..
Set up to face the autumns and the springs..
The big and magnificent aura in which I elevate every year..
I welcome my day with both fear and cheer..
The set of balloons, banners and streamers arranged..
The chocolate cake on the table and the gifts exchanged..
The memories alive have kept me alive..
The happiness which I gather; I instantly archive..
On this day, I pray to god at the rate of my blinks..
Though, he answers me sometimes with his misty blinks..
But, the canvas is vast and the palette is laden..
Each day, I rise and mature to be maiden..
Yes, I am the sailor.. The sea is mine..
I am the sun and my job is to shine..
- Stuti Tripathi
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
My grandma’s favorite holiday was groundhog day.
I don’t know if she just loved the fanfare of it all;
If she thought it was so trivial and fun;
If Pansawtukee Phil was just too adorable;
Or maybe she was just a fan of Bill Murray?
(Which I mean—who isn’t?)
My grandma always had a knack for everything, not just the weird holidays:
It was continuing to remind me that penguins have knees,
And instilling at least one of her grandchildren with a love of the X-Files that never faded,
(Me again)
And people watching
from the car outside of Byerley’s —
Insisting it was going to be her novel
“Tales from the Parking Lot.”
She also used to tell us that my grandfather had been reincarnated as a cardinal.
And she would tell us,
In the springtime,
He, (or the cardinal,)
Would come visit.
And, my grandma adored talking.
She would tell anyone her life story
Whether they wanted to hear it,
Or not.
This included:
nurses,
doctors,
a man named David at the Jewelry store,
some of my friends when we were just driving through on a road trip from college and stopped to say, “hello,”
Really, anyone who would listen.
She called it her gift of gab.
And, she was also really into scrapbooking
and creating slideshows of pictures
Simple ways of preserving the memories of loved ones
I don’t quite remember when her memory started slipping
When Alzheimer’s started digging it’s claws into
The facts, the stories...
Even the reality she knew and loved.
I’m sure, looking back, it was slow at first.
Like those first moments when Bill Murray wakes to the song “I Got You Babe,”
Again.
Not quite sure what is happening,
But confused.
The fear doesn’t begin until later,
As the events repeat again and again.
I remember my mother telling me of a moment
Where my grandmother was reliving her
Junior prom.
She lived with us then, and my mom had a baby monitor set up in her mother-in-law suite.
My mom woke to a crash through the baby monitor.
And when she rushed downstairs,
She found my grandma’s robes were laid out all around the room.
My grandma was on the ground,
The TV on top of her.
Her explanation of what happened is she was trying to steal the TV to buy a prettier dress.
In her lucid moments,
We told my grandma this story.
And she laughed
and laughed,
With the same confidence Bill Murray
has later in the film
Having accepted reality,
having accepted this fate.
Reliving days past
Knowing that a future
may never come.
It might be that the reason
She loved groundhog’s day was
The promise that spring is coming,
And with it, the cardinals,
And with it, new life.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 1:44 PM UTC
freshly minted leaves
cognizing warmth as
earthen birthmarks
of shade.
who's ready to float on
slideshows of deepening
color?
whose ready to feel what
that might mean this year?
crowns have been placed
amidst the tangled outreach
of boughs.
beauty is an awesome
responsibility.
few are dying of.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 11:51 AM UTC
Full room of people
smiles on their face
and I couldn't feel
more displaced
their talking about the good days
when you were alive and well
but all I can focus on
is your empty shell
I try to block their words
hide from the facts
by keeping the drinks flowing
keeping the smile showing
but no one truly knowing
the bitterness that's growing
that's called "ME"
I remain silent
but allow my mind to race
and all it does
is load slideshows of your face
125 YEARS is what you promised me
I use to laugh, and say, "yeah right"
but their wasn't a doubt in my mind
you wouldn't be right
I would have settled for another year
maybe three
but you left way to suddenly
So I sit in the full room of people
with a smile on my face
no one knowing
what's truly taking place!
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
They're white flags...waving,
on stretched dreary nights, til morn,
when breeze blows stead'ly...
they're screened slideshows of
dreamed moments......a face, a name,
tease the aching heart...
thoughts of what's not here
stir the mind and the senses,
when eyes are closed shut
sober moments break,
pieces shimmer in the dark
................serenity fades...
i look up...beg, that
my dreams and wishes, become
miracles...from God...
Sally
Copyright January 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
The corner
An open volume lay dormant
Misted in a fine layer of dust ,
and cratered with droplets of dried up tears ,
A hollow pen ,
, fallen
, like that tree in the forest without an ear to listen
Highlights of a love
Slideshows , formed in words
Painted in ink
Just to reminisce
Pages filled in a foreground of love , affection , and happiness ,
But the background , empty
a promising future faded
As the foundation which all would be built is gone
The pen lay dormant amidst a pile of white
Lifeless dawns , that stretch into lost evenings
No future left to write
Inspiration dried up
The pen lay barren
In a corner left alone
Since she said goodbye ...
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
i have made some slideshows there for you to view
pictures with my poems there are quite a few
if you would like to see them here is what to do.
type in William Worthless Youtube
in the google search
you will fine them there that is where they perch.
hope that you will like them and you can let me know
maybe leave some feedback for my picture show.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC