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"zoom" poems
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight. Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush. Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush strokes become finer it is not the task. Try once more, strike a fine chord in time, ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!   Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines on the pitch of the slit sun shines! A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines on a blank paper, however witty you might describe it, count on the tweeting birds short and cute, singing in the open air. Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs. The times come and go, flowing fine. For now, let’s take a look inside. Tint and shade nor tone them now. Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are. This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs or are these reflections of flocking clouds, diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground? Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight, before the show is wrapped up. And down the evening pool, the sun parts away with the black swan.
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
Mind The Small Prints
I could have gone to the cemetery, or back to my high school lab, find him lecturing from a podium, bony finger raised, demagogue of the dead. I could break him down piece by piece, cram him in a duffle, a femur jutting the zipper. Ignore the groan- Skeletons are by nature never satisfied. Instead I found myself in the carnival lot, The dog was long dead, the sign kept guard. Rusty rides slouched like tumbleweeds. Cotton candy in memory- blue tack crunching my teeth. Lewd. Skeletons fixed on poles, spiked up through pelvis and spine. Use **** Grip shoulders. twist. lift. When one slid free, he collapsed into my arms all bone-light, lovely, mine at last. I just brought him home. Sat at the kitchen table. Named him Curly. Zoom howled: WAG’s gone weird! What’s his name? What’s his name? His name is Curly, I said, but I knew his name was You. We drink wine by the pool. He never sips. Sometimes I pour a second glass for the glint. Sometimes he tells me Danny Elfman wants to play his ribs like a xylophone. Sometimes he sighs, he hates Oingo Boingo. I laugh. Obliging. So do I. When the wind kicks up he smells of sugar and rust. Sometimes he rattles the glassware. Sometimes he won’t sit still. Skeletons are by nature never satisfied.
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Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 12:11 PM UTC
Curly
mov•ie \ ˈmü-vē \ noun 1.a story represented in motion pictures/motion : noun : mo·tion : \ ˈmō-shən \ : an act, process, or instance of changing place/forward, backward, up, down, pacing, running, crawling/how we flee from our lives, our problems, our responsibilities/instead of focusing on motion we look to pictures/picture : noun : pic·ture :  \ ˈpik-chər \ : a design or representation made by various means/click, zoom, import, export/our lives are on a flash drive, on a snapchat, on an instagram, on a memory card/everywhere but on our own memories/we don’t like pictures either/they show moments never to be regained from our past/our solution?/combine them into something better/movie : verb : mov·ie :  \ ˈmü-vē \ : an escape from reality/we use movies to deflect the pain of our lives/we think that we watch because we are bored/no/we watch to escape/escape : verb :  es·cape : /əˈskāp/ : a recording of moving images that tells a story and that people watch on a screen or television.
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
dictionary I
There was a Panda in his room Ready to fall asleep He wrapped himself up Hugged his bed As he counted all his sheep The sheep jumped by one by one As he watched the setting sun The moon would rise Stars shine bright As the night time had begun He rests his head on his pillow He lays there all alone In the warmth of night he falls asleep As he pays his daytime loan His mind goes dim, as his dreams awake And he's in a pitch black room When in front of him a bubble forms One the size of his head Past him it begins to zoom The Panda half walks half crawls to where the bubble lay Afloat in the air Suspended above He raises his voice to speak for it to come But when his mouth opens, he doesn't know what to say The bubble sits there laying in wait Waiting for him to reach So the Panda puts up his outstretched arm Reaching for what he thinks would give him great joy But what he finds is alarm As he reaches and touches the bubble The bubble begins to shake It waivers and pops and rains down debris And yet he doesn't wake The Panda looks down With tear stained eye He sees the puddle below And to the bubble he waves good bye In this puddle left by the bubble He sees his reflection glow He sees his face, his tear stained eye He wants to be set free But sadly for this little Panda, waking up is slow
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:19 PM UTC
A Panda's Dream
Christmas can be a time when families get together: Young children scream, wine glasses gleam, both ready for M&S dinner. TV's in the corner rerunning Home Alone, Heart radio's in the kitchen, Chris Rea's driving home, again. Toddlers find the wrapping more engaging than the Duplo Teen couples find the company less of interest than their own. The dog's confused and excited with so many different sources of scratches and pats, he can't relax, his whining is remorseless. Christmas can be a time when families are missed, the parcel made last post winging off to little sis. Zoom will come in handy to laugh across the miles, the screen will mask the tears and focus on the smiles. Gran will talk of Christmas past when everyone was home 'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John went away, .... Christmas can be a time when budgets get stretched tight, cash pressures get to breaking point and prompt senseless fights. Some focus on opportunity to spend some gilt-free money, the only prayers are for extra hours and a faster tesco trolley. For others it's simply ' Yuletide' an excessive celebration, a winter feast, all you can eat, give in to all temptation. Most focus on the family, even more on the gifts; there's little time for Jesus assigned amongst the myths. Some do remember Jesus from half forgotten carols, they know there's something more than donkeys and angel heralds. For there He is in the middle, noticed once in a while; it's His birthday, but all He's getting is a half-hearted song and a smile. He's no longer a babe in a manger, He's now a resurrected King, waiting for those who would worship to stand and welcome Him in. Whatever your experience of Christmas you can come just as you are, His love is unconditional He'll accept you warts and all. So come on! It’s a season to celebrate! To dance, to sing and to shout! Your Saviour invites you to join Him, so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
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Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:43 PM UTC
Come as you are
Christmas can be a time when families get together: Young children scream, wine glasses gleam, both ready for M&S dinner. TV's in the corner rerunning Home Alone, Heart radio's in the kitchen, Chris Rea's driving home, again. Toddlers find the wrapping more engaging than the Duplo Teen couples find the company less of interest than their own. The dog's confused and excited with so many different sources of scratches and pats, he can't relax, his whining is remorseless. Christmas can be a time when families are missed, the parcel made last post winging off to little sis. Zoom will come in handy to laugh across the miles, the screen will mask the tears and focus on the smiles. Gran will talk of Christmas past when everyone was home 'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John went away, .... Christmas can be a time when budgets get stretched tight, cash pressures get to breaking point and prompt senseless fights. Some focus on opportunity to spend some gilt-free money, the only prayers are for extra hours and a faster tesco trolley. For others it's simply ' Yuletide' an excessive celebration, a winter feast, all you can eat, give in to all temptation. Most focus on the family, even more on the gifts; there's little time for Jesus assigned amongst the myths. Some do remember Jesus from half forgotten carols, they know there's something more than donkeys and angel heralds. For there He is in the middle, noticed once in a while; it's His birthday, but all He's getting is a half-hearted song and a smile. He's no longer a babe in a manger, He's now a resurrected King, waiting for those who would worship to stand and welcome Him in. Whatever your experience of Christmas you can come just as you are, His love is unconditional He'll accept you warts and all. So come on! It’s a season to celebrate! To dance, to sing and to shout! Your Saviour invites you to join Him, so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
Continue reading...
66
Yes, there is football again today, The melodrama in the usual way, Like ancient dramas, the crowds, The roars and chorus, free kicks allowed! His team are losing again, Do they have a winning vein? Television the negative conduit, He enjoys being sad, leave him to it! Find something else to do in another room, Yes, chicks can have crafternoon, That's craft and reading for me and you, Just throw chocolate at him and zoom!] Why? It's a football afternoon!
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May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
THERE IS FOOTBALL.......
The man in the moon has a big conundrum cause he can't always talk to his good friend the sun for he is tucked away, kept out of sight, for when the suns out the moon sees the night. There once was a time he was part of the earth, till a comet collided for all it was worth. The earth was surprised with the immediate shock and the loss of a massive, great big piece of rock. That great piece of rock, far off it did zoom from big brother earth, now the man in the moon. Every time the sun comes to play, the moons bigger brother, 'the earth's,' in the way. His brother of course, will pass messages on but it isn't the same as a chat with the sun. But once in a while the moon he can mix with his good friend the sun in a total eclipse. When part of the earth he saw the sun once a day till that comet then crashed and sent him far away. But somehow they managed their friendship to fix and all with the help of the total eclipse. They get to catch up, but not for too long for they soon take there places, go home where they belong. The total eclipse is a lifeline that ends but for a short time it helps puts together two friends
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Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Total Eclipse
The two collieries where I was employed, Houses now stand winders destroyed. From a window where I controlled the flow, I could see the horizon far and low. I can also see sunrise and set, Pictures past I won’t forget. Through the shifts seasons would go, From summer sun to winter snow. To wake one morning already too late, Decisions were made to close the gate. Work was gone and mates were lost, Ripped apart at great cost. Left us with a grey slurry beach, The nanny goat path we walked to reach. Down to the coast a ***** line, Carried shale from the mine. Through our town they ran so fast, To tip more waste upon the blast. Now I sit where I want to be, Looking out at the great North Sea. From chemical beach to clean east shore, The north east pits are no more. From brownie box in old dark room, To Digital with super zoom. Memories fade but photos show, All we really need to know. St Marys church to Hawthorn hive, These scenes of Seaham will survive.
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Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 7:48 AM UTC
My Town Seaham
What is the natural night, of when no technology does buzz And none can see. When no cars zoom and there's lots of room. Long sleep No shadows creep. What is of the natural night?
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
Night
Little speckled bird, quirky nerd, owl eyes- gleaming behind the glasses, often you zoom inwards and land in that never never land beyond the reach of most, yet I am in love with your ingeniousness that defies words. bit strange it may sound but I am one who explores the hidden spaces beyond my desired comfort zones. they warn me saying a nerd is a killjoy, nothing else Swimming against the tide I hear your excited chirps inside making me restless with anticipation, my intellectual slant received your approval, many times,I am hopeful growing my beard long I'll wait here, till you return completing your mission.
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
The nerd and her suitor
I wish that I could fly I wish that I could lie I wish that I could cry I wish that you would tell me why I wish that we could dance I wish we'd followed through the glance I wish we would take the chance I wish that we had romance I wish that I could sing these words From across the room And as soon as you hear my voice Your camera would focus and zoom I also wish that you were the one I really wish we could have fun I really need to know if you're done Do you know where I'm coming from? Because this heartache is killing And I'm not willing To stay through a sitting Of a show that I'll end up quitting And one last thing I wish I was alive I wish we could survive I wish you could revive I wish I wasn't a ghost
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
Ghost
All is calm. relaxing and re-energizing in the sun. enjoying the sweet sugar-rich liquid. With no time to spare, Enemies zoom by in a flash! Faster than a bullet But still able to see its distinct wings. Flying over again, Dive bombing, trying to take over. Both take off into the air soaring all around! whizzing faster than the speed of light! Racing high up to the heavens then plunging to the ground at full force! but able to pull back at the last second! gliding swiftly across earth. shrieks condescend between the two! As they fight flying over the land They don't even notice what has happened. another hummingbird lands and enjoys the sweet victorious nectar.
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
War Planes
Spring clothes the Earth in silk of green And parades her in a rare sheen Summer gifts the plants with bloom And causes the bees to hum and zoom Autumn makes the leaves yellow And blesses the season with fruits mellow Winter brings hail and snow With icy winds that blow and blow
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Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
Cycle of Seasons
You smile as you mentally slip on your disguise. You smile as you look deeply into their trusting eyes. You smile as you put into words all the things they want to hear. You smile with a voice that sounds so incredibly sincere. You smile while reveling in the fact that they do not have a clue. You smile because you know that they do not see the malevolent you. You smile so clever, so witty in addition, you pour on the charm. You smile since you have them convinced that you mean them no harm. You smile and begin to lose sight of what is reality and what is a lie. You smile at your power to always make them cry. You smile as you continue to play not caring that it is a sick, twisted little game. You smile knowing that when you are through you will not even remember their name. You smile as you realize that you own them body and soul. You smile at their ignorance thinking to yourself “You fool, how could you not know?” You smile as you continue ******* every bit of life out of them. You smile as you zoom in on and start stalking your next impending victim. You smile as you move on feeling no guilt or remorse and certainly without a care. You smile as you take all your ill-gotten gains with you back to your lair. You smile with conceit and arrogance, “This is a game I always win.” You smile and laugh aloud assured, that you will get away with it again. You smile ……….
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Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
You Smile ..... (In the Mind of a Psychopath)
The bright sun’s rays Are dappled as they strike The manicured greensward. He, tall, lithe, teeth all aglow In cream slacks and pastel blouson, She, fair and fairylike in acres of shimmering gauze, Alight from the auto At the site of their ‘manger al fresco’ Let us call them Justin and Jocelyn. The basket is heavy No matter. He lifts it clear to carry She gasps, he grins. In minutes the scene is set The rug, the plates, the glasses The pate, the cold chicken, The fruit….the wine. He deflowers a bottle of Moselle, Wishing it were her. Guessing as much she blushes. Ants retreat to nests Wasps attack alternate targets Flies zoom elsewhere to feed. And all the while the sun The golden sun continues to dapple. The rain is not quite horizontal As Joe and Judy Run from the bus stop To the stony beach. Not quite horizontal But driven off the sea it tastes salty. He, ordinary, average, in a dampening grey mackintosh. She, hair bleached in a sister’s frock and jacket Holding hands, And hold each a sandwich Cellophane wrapped. Squatting against the seawall They eat. Wet eyes flash bright signals. Joe has a small thermos Its vegetable soup, And somehow a hardboiled egg appears, To share. The rain continues its attack.
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
A Tale Of Two Picnics
Can't talk about, can't write about, a single thing but loving you Don't mean to schmooze, my shameless muse, always down for aimless cruise stare through window glass at tunnel lights that zoom straight past our heads I walk on air, dodge solar flares, ignites my mind when I'm in bed I can't stop, cotton to moth brushstrokes swirl upon the backdrop slumping over center console dream about centaurs and scary monsters shake me awake and tell me its okay I know it is but it feels better that way And I feel a nostalgia a sense of old security the same I got when I was young and fell asleep to the TV underneath the afghan with unwravled threads and fraying ends hold onto me while I nitpick the same old **** inside my head I can't stop, cotton to moth brushstrokes swirl upon the backdrop slumping over center console dream about centaurs and scary monsters shake me awake and tell me its okay I know it is but it feels better that way Tell me baby is it true? Should I ride or die for you? can I be your passenger? or do you find me lackluster? I can't let it be the thought of you and me scared that our future is tragic history and every time I find myself ready to shift gears something holds me back, some aching type of fear I can't stop, cotton to moth brushstrokes swirl upon the backdrop slumping over center console dream about centaurs and scary monsters shake me awake and tell me its okay I know it is but it feels better that way
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
some type of bae
I've been searching these deserts I've been rummaging through my closet I've been eating more than usual I've been spontaneously bursting into laughter I've been attentive I've been regularly missing taking my anti-depressants I've been crying hard all at once (expectedly) I've been very extremely me This is okay - this is okay Thank you life I'm okay. I'm at this airport and it's like a chorus The people go up the ramps Fly away for 3 days like Horus The returner's come home now Waiting families embrace them with love Jumbo jets zoom outside these giant windows Visitors, excitedly saunter Into this new and open place... And this is okay Thank you, thank you airport I'm okay.
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Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
Airport
She looks so cute In her shiny new skates She grins so big Tying up the laces She's so happy Going circles round our room Her little booty's hangin' out As she goes zoom zoom zoom Happy birthday babe! (A month early, at least it's not late) I love you so much and I'm sorry You hurt your **** falling off your skates.
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May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 1:46 PM UTC
She's Got a Brand New Pair of Roller Skates
As Tinker Bell and Peter Pan showed it takes a happy hearts Happy thoughts To fly and zoom around Thats why way down here in this bottomless pit is where I'll be found It's always dark and sometimes scary A anguished frozen heart is hard to carry But that's ok, for the birds of prey Would tear me apart anyway
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Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Tinker Bell and Peter Pan
It was squishy against my skull, the green grape which was dull. As it flung across the room and proceeded to zoom, zoom, zoom. I was hit, forehead and on, with the grape that I survived from. Hit by a grape.
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
Hit by a grape and survived.
*Ever look to the night sky beyond tiring windscreen wipers? They screech, exasperated by an army of droplets hurtling downwards. Ever lean on the dashboard gazing upwards into the downpour? Constant and linear; like how stars zoom past spaceships in old movies. A whole universe of dazzling stars. That's how she lived; her aura a universe peppered with light. Light forever radiating towards captivated eyes. Oh, she loved with a love unparalleled.*
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Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
-Cosmic-
Script Zoom zoom goes the car with drug dealers Being chased by the cops in a spotted deal The exchange was spotted by the police Who gave chase six shooters drawn Firing at the fleeing BMW that sped away Bullets zinged into it others were fired back It was a right cowboys and Indians time Just like a movie film with John Wayne Who will win the cops or dealers? It’s just like a films script but real
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Sep 24, 2023
Sep 24, 2023 at 7:32 PM UTC
Script
Don't worry... We give the world vision Words with color Tasteful. delicious. language. We stroke sixty shades of beauty Accent the body Observe. perfect. imperfections. We layer music like cake A sonorous crunch of bittersweet flavor Crisp. textured. harmonies. We expose raw motives of human beings The aperture is our eye Zoom. Focus. Click. Don't worry... Don't let Corporate America fool you. Sure, we need doctors, lawyers, nurses, and politicians...but at the end of the day, that painting that melody that book that photo sparks dreams. desires. emotion.
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
Burden Artists
You wanted a love like in the movies; rain drenched white shirts, palms covered in daisy pollen; I love you more than-- a phone call, long distance, your fingers curling the telephone wire like you're pulling me towards you like a fibre optic pheromone. Soundtracks of a jazz piano, and old jukebox hits, flared skirts and Mary Jane shoes, square dancing. But most of the time, we don't get to choose the colour of the bedsheets. In this story, I know you're going to leave me. I can sense the zoom of your eyes, rolling away from me. The lighting in the room, like the ones where something awful is about to happen: a sad, sick orange like a cheap sunset; the music, or lack thereof, the way you bite your lip like you're about to break my heart. You look to the ground, and I know this is where the narration will start; *this is the story of the first time someone broke my heart.   She's going to look up at me and say the words, It's all over-* and in a jump frame the thunderclap will mask the sound of my heart shattering, the sob disappearing into my throat. You wanted a love like in the movies, honey, we all did. But then the rain came, and the flowers drowned in their beds. You left your umbrella by the doorstep, I hope you don't catch a cold.
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May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC
Lessons From The Screenplay