Best Assessment Poems
Career assessment test
In college assessment office
Multiple choice test.
Choose your best answer.
Would you rather
Be to be a detective?
Video Game Designer?
Author?
Her write in answer:
Princess
Please.
Supervisor prematurely.
Rolls eyes
Silly her. She haughtily thinks.
Name of student
Meghan Markle
Now who Is laughing?
I love action,with few words
by example,my guidance heard
a barnabas,I unfold
encouragement,to be bold;
strong-minded,solid,some say,
maybe somewhat dull and grey!
reliability ,my creed
satisfy first,my family need;
Each day,stepping outside the box
what you see,you see,is only little me
for Tracie's first contest
I always feel hungry
yet I dare not scoff
it may set a precedent.
(“My TV’s begging for Africa again!”)
Yet! I believe I am the fodder
everyone keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
(Not forgetting the analytic “Bull”
upon application!)
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life!
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind will remain only
a fragment of intellect,
my world one of simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes, like corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of a dream,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience!
© Harry J Horsman 1997
I’m not connected
Neither am I happy
And so
Words are like forgotten junk
Like happy
Like connected
Like ice scuffed
Unforgiving cold beneath
Heavens above
Breathing
©davidbyrne jan 2013
Not everyone who sees a “Wolf” is really in much danger
For lone wolves are quite shy and only show a woodsy face
Not everyone who feels alone is really such a stranger
To friends that seem to ‘disappear’ at times without a trace.
It’s just at times life does intrude upsetting normal balance
Perhaps to focus on one friend for happiness not fair
Demanding where our strokes come from a useless form of parlance
And more joy found if we can trust what nature has to share.
For God has better things to do than spill what’s in your basket
And trusting that your friends still care could be the wisest move
To fume at what you can’t control in fact could blow a gasket
And trusting in herself is just how ‘Stella found her groove.’
Brian Johnston
February 27, 2015
(Brutal murder under the banner of religion, or shifting the blame)
Who shouts vile words designed to set in frames
and shrink our souls as paper charred in flames?
What twisted thought assigns to us disgrace
and rants in hate till we cannot save face?
A wicked plot performed this horrid deed
but points at us and stabs our hearts to bleed.
Did we in anger strap the bomb to him
and push him forward on an evil whim?
Hot lies as fire and rigid judgment fixed
burns up all margin for persuasions mixed.
Impartial judgment for religion's test
is not alive within their narrow breast.
Each man will bear the weight of his own cross
although sometimes we share his load or loss.
In life or death we've set a worthy goal
to lift each one who wears a burdened soul.
With ink and mind, a future bright,
In education's noble fight.
For every child, a chance to soar,
Equity's flame, forevermore.
The curriculum, a vibrant stream,
With skills for life, a modern dream.
Assessment's lens, a wider view,
Beyond the test, a world anew.
From home to school, a hand to hold,
Engage the young, their stories told.
Empowering teachers, hearts ablaze,
With knowledge shared, in countless ways.
Early seeds of literacy sown,
A love of reading, fully grown.
Mentorship's bridge, a helping hand,
Connecting minds across the land.
After the bell, the learning thrives,
With extra help where knowledge strives.
Reading's joy, a treasure sought,
In cozy corners, battles are fought.
Bridging the gap, a digital quest,
For all to learn, and put it to the test.
Data's compass, a guiding light,
To shape the future, ever bright.
Together strong, hand in hand,
With partners joined across the land.
The public voice, a chorus raised,
For education's cause, forever praised.
Let minds ignite, let voices ring,
In Literacy's Land, the children sing.
splitting halves
battle unsolved
no compromises
no justifications
the price of beginnings
an endless sought
in the irresolution
I am caught
flawless in the contraries
the tearing poles of
my conscience
Assessment is evaluation,
Sometimes, repudiation..
"CURRENT ASSESSMENT"
ingredients for my
disobedience:
paint the blue balls a
different color.
moral subjectivity is
subjective.
divested through tears
of tantrum.
a man does not become
perfection without
trials.
loading...
majestic.
By: Chicano Eddie
10-3-2016
Three hours suppressed before breaching the tight-lipped
container left neatly wrapped in homogenous foam
and smoky demeanor. Its lid caved in, having been tapped.
Through misspoken holes sprung arcadian visions,
lacking Peloponnese disposition, still semi-smoldering
with the tinder touch of Hephaestus extracted from
less subtle artistry attributed Zeus, high up on his steed,
bare-chested. Arms crossed.
How he used to look down on we mortals, wee, buttressed
by oxygen, in two-
parts hydrogen, one-part dioxide.
But this was real, not some Florescent church.
Outside the perimeter lay black stacks of texts I had gradually
gathered through time’s non-existence, way back when time
weighed as factual matter. Of course they still mattered.
Yet, I chose them to lay there, bathed in the soot of three daughters
I failed to veil. What do you say, Rita Dove? to wear
my white-skinned daughters spun lesser as still lovelier silk?
Is there anything clumsier to misappropriate than weather-vane hate,
with its gallant gait, with its augmented pigmentation,
when there’s no room in storage?
A grey-haired protestant behind me prayed;
“Oh, Thank God!
Oh! Thank God”
He praised through my bedroom window’s socket, shocked to shatter
by fire, fresh come splattered beard. I had not known him prior, this man I would learn was a fair-weather friar. So; I blew him a kiss.
But in my eyes,
he saw an unwell wish, so;
It needs to be done with this.
S Sorriest type of assessment
T Two answers always sound right; one is author’s idea of more right.
A Assumes we have identical life experiences, exposed to same words
N No one likes them- not the students, teachers or parents
D Do not guess, but what to do when you have no idea whatsoever?
A Assumes students have computer skills and typing skills.
R Ridiculously limited as to what they are measuring
D Depressing to students who do not test well or have test anxiety
I I believe portfolios are a better indicator of student accomplishment
Z Zany questions never asked in real life, strange vocabulary also
E Excellent grade for ten students per school, demoralizing to the others
D Depressing to the student who gets a low score.
T Teachers threatened by their students’ test scores, tied to evaluations.
E Every parent needs to say “No, thank you."
S Students are over-tested before the real test.
T Teachers cringe when they see their students’ test results
S Students feel badly when they get a low score
Shiny black patten leather shoes,
A new baby's eyes,
Dark moving clouds,
Storm theatening skies...
Sometimes my daddy's mood,
Sometime my attitude,
Hey!
That's not black,
It's the blues!
How do I write a poem about me,
What story is there to tell?
Do my words paint pictures,
Do they cast a spell?
What would someone say if he wrote a critique
About what it is that makes me unique?
I am often a dreamer,
And in my dreams I'll be found
Singing and dancing and prancing around
In swell musical productions
Full of glorious technicolor,
Stupendous cinemascope,
Quadrophonic sound,
And, of course, the more recent innovation of spectacular HD.
These days my slumber's not nearly so deep,
And my dreams are interrupted at least twice a night
And, often as not, I can't get right back to sleep.
So as we come to another year's end,
I find myself sitting alone here again
With pen in hand and tongue in cheek
Painting word pictures,
Casting my spells,
And trying my damnedest to be unique.
Is this an attribute of,
Or homage to,
My latent creativity,
Or a reflection of my artistic vanity,
Or merely a part of my all too-natural fallibility?
After all, I'm only what I'm here to be.
So how do I write a poem about me,
What story is there to tell?
I was born, I grew;
I learned, I knew;
I loved a few;
I won not one;
I lost a lot;
I proved, I got to here today,
Scribbling and painting and casting away,
Still trying my best to weave a spell,
And hoping that some future critiquer
Will find me, not trite,
But a trifle uniquer.
Teachers feel heat.
Standardized tests
So Boring
Breaks
Teachers feel heat
Principal evaluation
So Scary
Run
Teachers feel heat
Out of Control student
So Exhausting
Recruit
Teachers get told
Their job is easy
Nothing to do all summer
Try it.
My dreams: wake, sighs, climb - ladder of stars
I wake: breathe, groan, yawn - to sense of me
I groan: tired, lone, hurt - webbed in wars
A bird: cliff, flight, nest - feathered memory
Mother: sap, vein, lake - black breast of milk
White milk: nursed, hunger, fed - mouth of joy
Life's work: strength, sense, wage - ideas bilked
Strange son: write, dream, sleep - the heart that's coy.
Measure: time, life, love - endless hope
So hope: feel, know, keep - treasure of days
Memory: friends, days, dreams - longer than rope
Prayer: faith, need, yield - unblemished praise
Meaning: craved, sought, found - old analogies
Time proves: words, truth, right - in tests of strife
Believe: kin, state, creeds - the mind's anthologies
My dreams: webs, nets, kites - the sky of life.
(Kuhlmann lines)