she is having pupil with some white thing in it. i guess it is myopia..i should go to the doctor for the same. she is not wearing glasses also. what do you think what should i do for it. This is not good at all..
The machine’s electronic eyes flicker, animated iris flashing blank.
“Try the green wire, you just cut the video feed.” “Ah. Will do.”
Rakes nods and moves his pliers over a few inches. The machine’s face contorts, and the iris’ flash, pupil dilating as if in pain. he hates the realistic effect of the facial controls, of the expressions that it can display. It makes him feel guilty for de-wiring the poor machine.
“There isn’t a green wire. What do I do?”
“try again, but cut something other than the video this time.”
The pupil of your eye dilates, the blue getting bigger and the whites looking whiter. We’re so close now I can feel your breath, Down my face comforting me. The sweet despair of love. Falling close through time, Wanting you for our prime. Waiting through the depth of time. Feeling your touch on skin.
Her pupils were dilated from the copious amount of drugs she had consumed over the past hour. She was on the precipice of passing the fuck out. She was ready and willing, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Her memories had been plaguing her for the past few years.
It was always the back of the classroom for me; I feared that I could be called upon to answer the teachers’ question. Of course, I never thought I was smart enough and always doubted my abilities. As I grew older, and the more I learned about myself and life, I felt more confident in not only my ability to learn but to teach all that I have learned through my experiences. I realized that no matter where you are life, you are always going to have new experiences, meet new people and expand your knowledge. It is up to you on how you will use it.
ha
student pupil
eye pupil
i dont know
i don tllike the way you look at me
and they way you look at them
it makes me feel
red
scared
not really
im not scared of u
im annoyed at u
fuck
pupil
pew pell
am i you pupil
or am i the teacher
and youa re the student
as i instruct you with my eyes
and you wrinkle your nose
and raise you eyebrows
squiggly
i don’t answer question
until i’ve finished the lecture
are you the teacher or am i
the when my words
are slow and measured
out on balances
and yours tumble
down
like
waterfalls
Dialating. Expanding. Dialating again. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean, but I can only imagine that this womans eyes see something in me that she doesn’t often see.
seeking to hear with her eyes
shes sustaining the quietness of lies
would have been saved
could have been saved
should have been saved
though there’s walls, pieced together by frail intent
her pupils trail the bricks, going on to misrepresent
a fraction of faded light is all she can hear
a visual melody her eyes strive to endear.
Her pupils dialated. Oh what that told me about them.
She knew it too.
She’d given away their little secret without saying a damn thing
Bastard child.
Me, a bastard child raised in a house of orthodox monks?
Isn’t that one of those things that was against the Word?
Perhaps not. I could be wrong.
Then again, I never did pay much attention to those classes.
“You’re using again, aren’t you?”
She ducked her head behind a curtain of stringy hair and didn’t answer. But she didn’t have too; the flash of her dilated pupils was more than enough confirmation.
Ew, I hate the word pupil.
I’m not a pupil, I’m a student a
scholar
a learner
anything but pupil, I think
I think I’m not a pupil;
I think I’ve never been one.
I’m not going to conform to the
RULES OF THE CLASSROOM and
become a pupil, unintelligent, uninformed
I am a student
and that is much more.
His pupils burned with fiery rage at the sight of his enemy holding the blade to his throat.
Ho dare he, he thought, my own son.. He can’t kill me. ever.
However, there was a glint of rage in his son’s eyes too and when he saw the blood ran down his father’s neck–mixing with sweat–that rage turned to relief.
She was a good pupil of the music professor. Sara hung on every word he uttered and bought each CD he spoke of. Professor Burton had impeccable taste in a wide variety of musical categories and sang beautifully while illustrating particular points he was making during class. A classic school girl crush except Sara was a grown woman.
Pupil or student. Somebody studying in class. Education is trully relevant. School is the best place you can be. For you to enhance your skills or to apply them. Whatever you want to be, just study well and you can achieve your dreams.
Being a pupil is hard but you are here to learn different stuff that you can use in everyday living. You can learn different stuff like reading, writing, and have some other classes like painting, music, cooking etc.
You and I might be a pupil for now, but the most important thing is we learn.
My favourite pupil is Katie. She once declared that I use to be a very bossy teacher but now I am a good one. I asked her if she ever considered the fact that she needed a lot of bossing.
The boy sat, motionless, watching his tutor. No words passed between them for several minutes, and the boy was in awe of his mentor’s skill. The old teacher enjoyed his job, and was sad that this would be his last pupil. Since there had been no children born on the space station in the last fifteen years, he would have to find a new purpose.
I stared into his eyes, watching as his pupil shrunk, and shrunk, and shrunk, until it was no more than a pinprick of black, inside his eye. I screamed in horror as he eye started to bleed, fast and heavy. He sat up, grasping for his knife. As he plunged the knife into my stomach, he said something.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, “That’s just the way it has to be.”
His eyes. The life was bleeding out of them, pupils blown wide with agony, light fading into dull black. There was blood on his hands, viscous fluid staining him from fingertip to chin but all he could do was stare. Stare unflinchingly at the eyes that had shined with such warmth on him, warmth that now covered skin, pumped out by the heart that felt it.
Pupils, a strange part of our eyes. They can express feelings; a whole range of emotions. The most queer thing is how they help us adjust. To the light and to the dark. These seemingly insignificant parts of life are the only things that know the amount of dark and light should be seen and used.
Her pupils were dilated from the copious amount of drugs she had consumed in the past hour. She was on the precipice of passing the fuck out. She was ready and willing, nothing mattered anymore. Her memories had been plaguing her for the past few years.
He perhaps wasn’t the most direct, or attractive pupil, but he had always been her favourite. She liked his darkness, his slight appearance, but mostly she enjoyed the one thing about him, everyone else viewed as a disability, the way he could never keep eye contact with her, no matter how long she would stare longingly at him in the mirror.
The pupils of her eyes dilated as she realized something. Maybe it was the air. Maybe it was the sea- the cold sea foam covered swells that would slowly creep into her mind. Maybe it was the town. Maybe it was the time. I don’t know, but in that moment, she realized she wasn’t very significant at all.
She crossed her legs. His eyes scanned over the crowd without ever glancing at her. Each member of the congregation was careful not to cough too loudly. Today, they would all find out the girl and the man were in love.
I blinked in surprise as I stared into the other boy’s pupil; as soon as the lights turned off, it had noticeably enlarged itself. It had blown my fourth grader mind completely.
The writer’s guild took in less than three pupils a year; Violetta knew she had a slim chance getting accepted, but she was a good student and learned quickly. She knew many scripts, and took good care of her ink wells. She hoped for the best.
Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light-
‘Hmm… Ms Shepherd, when did you say she last had these momentary collapses?’
‘I- I don’t… Maybe it was always at the back of my mind- but I had never noticed it before…”
‘Okay, okay… Ms Shephered, if you don’t mind me asking… Are you currently in a relationship?’
‘No, her… father… left us a few years back so I’ve been looking after her – well, the nanny has, I mean – I haven’t really had the time, you see, what with everything going on…’
‘Hmm okay… Well, the only thing is her response systems. If you shine a light- See? Her pupils remain dilated.’
‘W-Well, What does it mean?’
‘It means that she’s…’
i looked over the class, laughing at me. i was not the class pet, i was just the pupil. it is not fair that they were mad at me because i snitched. i was not a kiss up, i just did the right thing. ughhh. this is annoying.
Studiously they sat, heads down, praying, it seemed, to the sheets of paper in front of them. As one, they lifter their pens, attentive. It was like waiting for the word from a higher being, inspiring them to toil and scrape away at their pages.
The eyeball is nothing without it. The world see’s nothing without it. It defines not just what is, but what will be and what will be wanted within the future. The way people see, experience and live is defined by not just the senses of living but by something as simple as a full stop.
Chester was the star pupil – the stray constellation caught in the astronomical web of Professor Anderson’s eye. When Chester was staring down at lined paper, his wedge of graphite scribbling away at cosmos, Anderson could not help but look at his student as if through a telescope. The weight of a thousand galaxies weighed on the older man’s brow, as he stopped occasionally in his lecture to grab his handkerchief and wipe his brow free from space dust while Chester watched every slight twitch of his forearm.
Rasputin blinked. The wasp dodged his line of sight and disappeared. His pupils refocused to take in the glorious, azure expanse of the Black Sea. His wide, blue eyes reflected the choppy crests of waves tainted by early signs of syphilitic psychosis.
How quickly something as insignificant as a wasp could feint his attention.
“Lock the doors. Make sure they know what is happening,” he delivered slowly, without altering his gaze.
It’s funny to think how the light travels, avoiding the billions of obstacles, penetrating the suspended dust, bent by the atmosphere, only to land in the eye of an animal on this planet. What a wonderful thing to comprehend! What a thing to be able to comprehend.
A pupil is a student. The word carries neither a negative nor positve conotation. It just is. A pupil can be of any age. Learning makes one a pupil. I have been a pupil all of my life, not just to school instructers, but also to the simple way of life.
she is having pupil with some white thing in it. i guess it is myopia..i should go to the doctor for the same. she is not wearing glasses also. what do you think what should i do for it. This is not good at all..
The machine’s electronic eyes flicker, animated iris flashing blank.
“Try the green wire, you just cut the video feed.” “Ah. Will do.”
Rakes nods and moves his pliers over a few inches. The machine’s face contorts, and the iris’ flash, pupil dilating as if in pain. he hates the realistic effect of the facial controls, of the expressions that it can display. It makes him feel guilty for de-wiring the poor machine.
“There isn’t a green wire. What do I do?”
“try again, but cut something other than the video this time.”
A pupil in a seat.
The pupil of an eye.
Both take information in and makes adjustments.
Only one understands.
I looked to my left, ocean finally colliding with the earth. I fell deep into the void that lay in her eyes.
The pupil of your eye dilates, the blue getting bigger and the whites looking whiter. We’re so close now I can feel your breath, Down my face comforting me. The sweet despair of love. Falling close through time, Wanting you for our prime. Waiting through the depth of time. Feeling your touch on skin.
Her pupils were dilated from the copious amount of drugs she had consumed over the past hour. She was on the precipice of passing the fuck out. She was ready and willing, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Her memories had been plaguing her for the past few years.
It was always the back of the classroom for me; I feared that I could be called upon to answer the teachers’ question. Of course, I never thought I was smart enough and always doubted my abilities. As I grew older, and the more I learned about myself and life, I felt more confident in not only my ability to learn but to teach all that I have learned through my experiences. I realized that no matter where you are life, you are always going to have new experiences, meet new people and expand your knowledge. It is up to you on how you will use it.
The gold summer sun, wheat and honey and whiskey encased in dusky glass, glimmered in her brown eyes, each pupil a black fleck, perfectly circular.
ha
student pupil
eye pupil
i dont know
i don tllike the way you look at me
and they way you look at them
it makes me feel
red
scared
not really
im not scared of u
im annoyed at u
fuck
pupil
pew pell
am i you pupil
or am i the teacher
and youa re the student
as i instruct you with my eyes
and you wrinkle your nose
and raise you eyebrows
squiggly
i don’t answer question
until i’ve finished the lecture
are you the teacher or am i
the when my words
are slow and measured
out on balances
and yours tumble
down
like
waterfalls
Dialating. Expanding. Dialating again. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean, but I can only imagine that this womans eyes see something in me that she doesn’t often see.
seeking to hear with her eyes
shes sustaining the quietness of lies
would have been saved
could have been saved
should have been saved
though there’s walls, pieced together by frail intent
her pupils trail the bricks, going on to misrepresent
a fraction of faded light is all she can hear
a visual melody her eyes strive to endear.
She was a pupil her whole life in different ways, through her experiences in life. She was always learning, every day.
Her pupils dialated. Oh what that told me about them.
She knew it too.
She’d given away their little secret without saying a damn thing
Bastard child.
Me, a bastard child raised in a house of orthodox monks?
Isn’t that one of those things that was against the Word?
Perhaps not. I could be wrong.
Then again, I never did pay much attention to those classes.
“You’re using again, aren’t you?”
She ducked her head behind a curtain of stringy hair and didn’t answer. But she didn’t have too; the flash of her dilated pupils was more than enough confirmation.
Ew, I hate the word pupil.
I’m not a pupil, I’m a student a
scholar
a learner
anything but pupil, I think
I think I’m not a pupil;
I think I’ve never been one.
I’m not going to conform to the
RULES OF THE CLASSROOM and
become a pupil, unintelligent, uninformed
I am a student
and that is much more.
His pupils burned with fiery rage at the sight of his enemy holding the blade to his throat.
Ho dare he, he thought, my own son.. He can’t kill me. ever.
However, there was a glint of rage in his son’s eyes too and when he saw the blood ran down his father’s neck–mixing with sweat–that rage turned to relief.
She was a good pupil of the music professor. Sara hung on every word he uttered and bought each CD he spoke of. Professor Burton had impeccable taste in a wide variety of musical categories and sang beautifully while illustrating particular points he was making during class. A classic school girl crush except Sara was a grown woman.
Pupil or student. Somebody studying in class. Education is trully relevant. School is the best place you can be. For you to enhance your skills or to apply them. Whatever you want to be, just study well and you can achieve your dreams.
Being a pupil is hard but you are here to learn different stuff that you can use in everyday living. You can learn different stuff like reading, writing, and have some other classes like painting, music, cooking etc.
You and I might be a pupil for now, but the most important thing is we learn.
Us, the pupils, sitting in our little desks, listening to the teachers, filling our minds with words, hoping for meaning.
My favourite pupil is Katie. She once declared that I use to be a very bossy teacher but now I am a good one. I asked her if she ever considered the fact that she needed a lot of bossing.
The boy sat, motionless, watching his tutor. No words passed between them for several minutes, and the boy was in awe of his mentor’s skill. The old teacher enjoyed his job, and was sad that this would be his last pupil. Since there had been no children born on the space station in the last fifteen years, he would have to find a new purpose.
I stared into his eyes, watching as his pupil shrunk, and shrunk, and shrunk, until it was no more than a pinprick of black, inside his eye. I screamed in horror as he eye started to bleed, fast and heavy. He sat up, grasping for his knife. As he plunged the knife into my stomach, he said something.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, “That’s just the way it has to be.”
His eyes. The life was bleeding out of them, pupils blown wide with agony, light fading into dull black. There was blood on his hands, viscous fluid staining him from fingertip to chin but all he could do was stare. Stare unflinchingly at the eyes that had shined with such warmth on him, warmth that now covered skin, pumped out by the heart that felt it.
Pupils, a strange part of our eyes. They can express feelings; a whole range of emotions. The most queer thing is how they help us adjust. To the light and to the dark. These seemingly insignificant parts of life are the only things that know the amount of dark and light should be seen and used.
Her pupils were dilated from the copious amount of drugs she had consumed in the past hour. She was on the precipice of passing the fuck out. She was ready and willing, nothing mattered anymore. Her memories had been plaguing her for the past few years.
He perhaps wasn’t the most direct, or attractive pupil, but he had always been her favourite. She liked his darkness, his slight appearance, but mostly she enjoyed the one thing about him, everyone else viewed as a disability, the way he could never keep eye contact with her, no matter how long she would stare longingly at him in the mirror.
The pupils of her eyes dilated as she realized something. Maybe it was the air. Maybe it was the sea- the cold sea foam covered swells that would slowly creep into her mind. Maybe it was the town. Maybe it was the time. I don’t know, but in that moment, she realized she wasn’t very significant at all.
She crossed her legs. His eyes scanned over the crowd without ever glancing at her. Each member of the congregation was careful not to cough too loudly. Today, they would all find out the girl and the man were in love.
I blinked in surprise as I stared into the other boy’s pupil; as soon as the lights turned off, it had noticeably enlarged itself. It had blown my fourth grader mind completely.
The writer’s guild took in less than three pupils a year; Violetta knew she had a slim chance getting accepted, but she was a good student and learned quickly. She knew many scripts, and took good care of her ink wells. She hoped for the best.
Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light-
‘Hmm… Ms Shepherd, when did you say she last had these momentary collapses?’
‘I- I don’t… Maybe it was always at the back of my mind- but I had never noticed it before…”
‘Okay, okay… Ms Shephered, if you don’t mind me asking… Are you currently in a relationship?’
‘No, her… father… left us a few years back so I’ve been looking after her – well, the nanny has, I mean – I haven’t really had the time, you see, what with everything going on…’
‘Hmm okay… Well, the only thing is her response systems. If you shine a light- See? Her pupils remain dilated.’
‘W-Well, What does it mean?’
‘It means that she’s…’
i looked over the class, laughing at me. i was not the class pet, i was just the pupil. it is not fair that they were mad at me because i snitched. i was not a kiss up, i just did the right thing. ughhh. this is annoying.
Studiously they sat, heads down, praying, it seemed, to the sheets of paper in front of them. As one, they lifter their pens, attentive. It was like waiting for the word from a higher being, inspiring them to toil and scrape away at their pages.
“And you may start…now.”
The eyeball is nothing without it. The world see’s nothing without it. It defines not just what is, but what will be and what will be wanted within the future. The way people see, experience and live is defined by not just the senses of living but by something as simple as a full stop.
It was a blinding light, so bright that her eyes started to water. The camera fixed in on her, tracking her pupil as it shrank in on itself.
Chester was the star pupil – the stray constellation caught in the astronomical web of Professor Anderson’s eye. When Chester was staring down at lined paper, his wedge of graphite scribbling away at cosmos, Anderson could not help but look at his student as if through a telescope. The weight of a thousand galaxies weighed on the older man’s brow, as he stopped occasionally in his lecture to grab his handkerchief and wipe his brow free from space dust while Chester watched every slight twitch of his forearm.
Bzzzzzzzzzzz. Zzzz. Zzt. Zzzzzzzzzz….
“Your grace?”
Rasputin blinked. The wasp dodged his line of sight and disappeared. His pupils refocused to take in the glorious, azure expanse of the Black Sea. His wide, blue eyes reflected the choppy crests of waves tainted by early signs of syphilitic psychosis.
How quickly something as insignificant as a wasp could feint his attention.
“Lock the doors. Make sure they know what is happening,” he delivered slowly, without altering his gaze.
It’s funny to think how the light travels, avoiding the billions of obstacles, penetrating the suspended dust, bent by the atmosphere, only to land in the eye of an animal on this planet. What a wonderful thing to comprehend! What a thing to be able to comprehend.
A pupil is a student. The word carries neither a negative nor positve conotation. It just is. A pupil can be of any age. Learning makes one a pupil. I have been a pupil all of my life, not just to school instructers, but also to the simple way of life.