Long Examinations Poems
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It’s been corrupted,
Even the learning systems in normality altered
The Innocence of examinations
Has swerved
Into Guilt of examinations
Exam malpractices everywhere!
Many students have sown the seed of levity
Which has grown into complacency
They, being carefree,
Are shamefully confident
They would cheat to the bull!
Assured their money could in qualms set them free.
Examiners have likewise injured the education routines of our country,
Even WAEC as a body
Of these –
In charge of its structures
They, like an engine that sucks tanks of oil,
So do they take bribes for scripts exchange
And manipulation of grades imputation.
Parents and guardians are fans of students and teachers:
Supporting their children,
And moderating tricks with teachers and examiners.
These exam malfeasances are done throughout:
From the class to external exams offices.
If I crash-out of this med-school thing, I hope it’s a gentle spiral.
Upon a trembling wire I make my stand,
a Flying Wallenda, knowing no other life.
A deep and quiet moonlight, well flatters the mind's labour.
So scholars' efforts are commonly crowned in sleepless industry.
Coincidentally, those same treacherous moonbeams
dubble-dip as lover's ambiance.
Those that study flesh, may find their own poorly mastered,
as it conspires - in want - and distracts with fancies ill-timed
- as if desires were somehow exam-unaware.
Ambition ties me, with strings, to ever-urgent examinations,
while desire, that merry thief, giddily unlaces me.
Between love and ambition, I dance a careful step,
half-architect and half-willing fool.
Should I fall - as other highwire walkers have,
let it be said that I fell with blushing grace
- not by neglect, or overzealous reach,
but by the tragedy of earnest and impatient love.
Exams start in 2 hours. It’s hell week. Wish me luck!
.
.
A song for this:
Tiger, my friend by psapp
A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank
key teachers approximately
42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),
when the need to access
and retrieve
immediate necessary information
analogously interleaved
among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
as hopelessly lost
into interstitial invisible cranial cracks
irretrievably buried
during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember
any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
and/or prose tempted to quit
asper defeated by resignation,
and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden
black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
a test paper devoid of academic grit
analogously surrendering
(while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,
2.
yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
flowered gloriously invoking nest
head treasured mother lode
of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
formerly figuratively barricaded facts
suddenly at my behest
ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure
forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay.
You hear the term bandied about,
used to justify everything,
this catch-all phrase, ‘social justice,’
its praises some constantly sing.
It has become their shibboleth,
to oppose it is heresy,
should someone not buy into it
you will hear the chorus of “Reeeee!”
They claim it is the moral path,
agree with it or be cancelled,
but even quick examinations
reveals it as a load of bull.
And worst off their bad ideas
undermine actual justice,
since that is individual,
‘social’ justice can never exist.
Human beings aren’t ‘collectives,’
groups themselves are just abstractions,
you do not answer for others,
or pay for the things that they’ve done.
If you look like a known murderer
you don’t go to jail for their crime,
yet these ‘social’ justice nitwits
use this principal all the time!
They claim that if your skin is pale,
then by nature you must oppress,
even if you have done nothing
that entitle others to redress.
They claim that if your skin is dark,
a victim you always must be,
even if you have suffered no crime
and are going through life nicely.
A moral mind would look at this,
say, “F-ck off, leave those guys alone,”
since neither committed a crime,
there’s nothing to condemn or condone.
But to live and let people live
is not something the left abides,
so they go looking for problems,
some evil that they can ascribe.
They scream sh-t like ‘unconscious bias’
to turn good people into fiends,
it doesn’t matter you’ve done no wrong,
they need to make you feel guilty.
They dig out past wrongdoings done
by people who are long since dead,
then scream that, somehow, it’s your fault,
that those sins belong on your head.
But you are not responsible
for a past when you did not live,
these things are no genetic, no,
you’ve no reason to feel like sh-t.
You’re only a criminal if
a crime is committed by you,
and you’re only a victim if
you’ve suffered from crime, that’s truth.
You cannot just look at some group
and declare they are good or bad,
you judge people one at a time,
to not do so is bloody mad...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank
key teachers approximately
42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),
when the need to access
and retrieve
immediate necessary information
analogously interleaved
among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
as hopelessly lost
into interstitial invisible cranial cracks
irretrievably buried
during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember
any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
and/or prose tempted to quit
asper defeated by resignation,
and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden
black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
a test paper devoid of academic grit
analogously surrendering
(while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,
yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
flowered gloriously invoking nest
head treasured mother lode
of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
formerly figuratively barricaded facts
suddenly at my behest
ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure
forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay,
Today, our cat spent some time with the vet for his prognostication.
It had been a couple of years or so since Simba's last examination.
Simba had no say in the matter due to our paucity of conversation.
As I coaxed him into his carrying cage, he howled in desperation!
The vet and staff look forward to Simba's visit with little anticipation!
He gets rather grumpy at the vets, exhibiting aggressive agitation!
Hence, for examinations he must be placed under very heavy sedation;
Only then can the veterinarian proceed to practice his vocation!
His eyes, ears, nose and throat were fine including his respiration.
There was no evidence of fleas or any problems with his urination.
The old fella has only 16 of 28 teeth due to a previous operation,
But no matter, he eats like an army mule in handling mastication!
For his arthritis the vet prescribed a bottle of medication,
And for good measure he was given a rabies inoculation.
I'm aware that "cat-scans" are used in treating the human population.
By Jove! Simba received a true "cat"-scan as a part of his observation!
I anticipated receipt of the bill for the tests with some trepidation!
To pay for all of this, need I present an arm or leg for amputation?
After all, we'd do anything for our old pal, 'tis our obligation.
We want to keep him around for nine more lives for our delectation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
And I set off,
on this journey of writing
It seems impossible but exciting
I am Imagining, who is going to be my victim
The one who will read my handwriting
Well, problem solved, thanks to typing
I cannot wait any longer
Nothing can contain this hunger
I have to start jotting them down
Looking at different subjects at dawn
There are a lot of untold stories,
but as I start to put pen to paper, they vanish
In these parts of the world,
reading is mostly to pass examinations
They would rather hear it than read
Only a few have value for reading
So who will I write for?
For now I will write for the diary
For the many reasons it is unattainable
are the same reasons it is achievable
It must be written for it to be read
I had learnt to draw patterns
before I could comprehend the meaning
Before writing becomes meaningful
I must embrace reading.
GROWING UP
At the beginning, I was a baby
No mind to speak of, just need
Growing quickly into a toddler
Ancestral genes the modeller
Too young to follow a creed
Destined for greatness - maybe
A tall young boy, learning fast
Changes in both body and brain
Things one can do, stuff one can’t
Life suggesting a different slant
Examinations come round again
Until it’s leaving school at last
The world of work offers surety
Self-sufficient, now living alone
Many new challenging decisions
Interviews for better positions
Conducted on a mobile phone
Balancing interests with security
After decades of payslips and tax
Marriage, and even having kids
Retirement looms in a few years
More free time and no more tears
Hoping health is not on the skids
Faced with a different set of facts
Less about future, more of the past
One’s life was a million adventures
Now everything is at a slower pace
Often caught staring up into space
Getting used to wearing dentures
And accepting that the die is cast
i am writing this poem in an elevator while stuck
the light represents the darkness that i feel
i guess i deserved to be literally abandoned by you
i was not the best for you and your personal expectations
i wish that we could have been friends, but i understand you declining
it's funny how reflections, thoughts, examinations, and introspection can come in the strangest of places
it's strange how realization and 'oh!' moments can come at the oddest and most mind boggling times
though i do not want to do it, i go on ahead and push the alarm
it is times like these when i hate the true definition of immediacy
i will eventually go out into the continually ever-moving future
i begin to shake and become nauseous to the point of curing up in the corner of said elevator and throwing up until i die
nevertheless, i know i must bravely face the world again
i just never thought that it would be without you after all this time
i will exit this cold, drafty, drabby elevator with my head held high, but in early untruth
when the elevator doors slowly open, i hope and pray that you will be waiting for me with your loving arms open
then again, i know that i will be lying to myself, so with hesitation i prepare
A rhetorical question finds me asking
(to no one in particular) why I recall
the names of grade school teachers
approximately fifty years ago (whose
names listed below), when the need
to retrieve necessary information due
ring examinations (less time ago)
often found me seized with sudden
inability to remember any vital ants
sirs (even including my name), thus
grudgingly handing over blank test paper
analogously surrendering a vital
document gracing terms of defeat
into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans
first to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout,
Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably majority of first thru
sixth grade accorded accredited
ancient authenticated creatures.
They freely exercised diabolical
churlish beastial animalistic zeal
us yakking, wickedly unprintable
upon (unprincipled urchin) at
receiving end of fiendishly grue
some hellish instructions. Assign
ments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period
earlier in dawning primate con
sciousness. Lesson material kindled
with justifiable license in league
with garnered insignia. Heft
to bring pupils to heal predicated
via warp and weft woven wonder
fully. Wrought writs welcomed
whips with warranty whenever
recalcitrant ruffian refused
respecting reptilian rubric repre
sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of
the Screw and Whipping Cords
Will Serve You More Than Ropes
Will Ever Do), which loosely
rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons
freedom granted to interpret
as one decrepit, hawkish insignia
certified one beaming Eve and/
or stud deed brute soffit. Education
often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to and/or from Aunt
Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin
kickstarter jawboning torturous
treatment tolerated, asper imps
of the pervert, mutant Ninja
Turtles duty bound antsy
youthful yokel yodelers
weathering ululating sing-song
and quintessential precepts.