Best Scrolling Poems
the following quite quirky epistle may not exhibit the ordinary characteristics of poetry, but i decided to share this self made challenge (where every word begins with the letter "S" - no explanation can be offered why such self cerebral torture imposed, nor what motivated me to focus on the nineteenth letter of the english alphabet at the exclusion of other noble vowels and consonants.
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Sunday September seventh started seemingly same since...silver screen show secured seventy seven SeventhSeals.
Soupy Sales supreme salient strengths (starring smart pet sidekick Springer Spaniel Socrates) salvaged sagging sporting sorties. Slap stick stereotypical swashbuckling shticks supplied shipshape shenanigans.
Spartan stage set spurred spontaneous simply stupefying solution. Suede shod schlemiel. Sartre seasoned scenes. Sharp sticks supported sphere. Seats situated semicircular semblance.
SPCA, Siemens, Sears sponsored soiree. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shouted satirically 'specially Saturdays seemingly sellout. Spontaneous spritely Shogun Samurai sangroid stance satiated slipups stripping stellar seasoned Skidamarinks substitutes sacredly, seminally, silently, slipstreaming soulfully saving saga.
Sometimes silly spouse studiously sought spurious strategy stringing superlatives showcasing senseless sophomoric soporific skills specifically spelling storybook sassy sharpshooters supposedly sleuthing shapeless seated sideways (sic seasonal slate smug spotified snapchatting skippers selfishly scooped sloop-ful seasonal six-packs) sinister Swiss scalpers sat sometimes squatted.
I’m looking at this picture of my daughter Ava
someone took three years ago as she was watching me
during the semifinals of our tennis club’s singles championship:
Standing there with her back to the camera,
her little fingers curled around the metal wiring of
a chain link fence, she’s trying to capture my attention
before I hit a kick-serve from the ad-side court;
Intently focused on the task at hand, I bounce the green ball
twice in front of me, toss it slightly behind my center of gravity
into swirling winds three feet above, coil like a spring,
and then, with every ounce of my being, explode upwards
while Ava stands there - still - her wide eyes searching an empty cage.
5/8/2017
Sirens sounded secretly securing source. Strait sacks swooshed scamps scaling sensitive sentries (simply spayed seals) surveying surrounding staked spy sotted sham semicircular slipshod shelter. Snappy, Snippy, Snoopy suited Skyhawks surprisingly swooped somnambulant senseless scriveners. Sargent Salemander slipped shiny shimmering shellacked Sheppards Shutterfly sidearms sized simulated small skyscraper slinky, soapy, spooky squarely summoned, sentenced, sacrificed see swarthy Samsonite satraps Section SpecialOps.
Sometime soon savior snuck stealthily stealing sinful schleppers. sundown syzygy saw serendipitous, surreptitious, surreptitious segue-way shuttled safely Scottish shoals. Stigmatization stayed steady. Supplication statements swatted. Sole survivor swiftly spun self shaming sesquipedalian soliloquy. Sea side serenade soon spewed solipsism saving Slim Shady.
Sayonara seminal surfer swirling scarily sans sinister serpentine silent space.
My own insecurities ruin everything I can have
I scroll and scroll until I have no energy left
I feel like I’m falling into a void of self-destruction
Everything I do comes to bite me in the end
Any connections are broken when I move to another state
I am in a constant state of self-loathing
My inner child can’t be healed at this point
I grew up in a time of screens
And cellphone cults
Watching our life getting sucked away by disease and electricity
I wish I were a true poet
Incorporating meaning into every line
My symbolism saying
The words I couldn't
But, I’m just a kid who has bitten off more than she can chew
The church says that I was picked by God himself
My father says that I was blessed with many qualities
My pastor says that I am special and my innocence needs to be protected
But how do you know?
I have to come face-to-face with the selfish parts of my heart
I have to meet my sinful counterpart
But I keep scrolling until I fall to the song of sleep
1.
Photos no longer turn yellow as they did in the paper era
Securely stored images are now independent of memory
Their world seems fictional, and dates replace memories.
Life becomes an album produced by unknown creator
Divided into fragments memorized by a machine, life preserves
Slightly more variable memory than it could be in the age of paper
Your plot is unreal, it changes with each new scroll
In the shade of the trees, it's still the same coolness of a sunny morning.
The contours of an Italian garden loom in the depths of the light
Fountain with water lilies and swans in a pond overgrown with reeds
And the stone bacchantes are a little further away, pouring water into the lake.
The dark surface of the water is motionless, only on sunny spots
The transparency of the water is noticeable, and the foliage seems darker than before.
2.
This memory, with its set of pictures, remains isolated.
Although I remember the alleys and the direction of the path perfectly well.
But the path means nothing, why pretend that there were any goals?
When their absence is a blessing in itself, without a burden
Of some emotions that are not visible now and hardly noticeable then.
Remembering for the sake of remembering, although it sounds like sophistry
But in fact this parade of memories is the essence of simplicity.
Scrolling through memory is the simplest thing that I can imagine.