Best Dartmouth Poems
North of Nottingham, there lies a wood
Clothed with fern in Dartmouth green
A barefoot Beauty, There she stood
The likes of which, the worlds not seen
A man observes, but undetected
Concealed up in The Major Oak
She drops her hood, quiet unexpected
Gently slipping off her cloak
This man, a thief, price on his head
Cannot resist his captive heart
In great danger, he gladly sheds
The massive tree's concealing art
You might conceive, this shocked the maiden
Confronted by a rogue so bold
But his eyes were so love laden
She touched his hand, he touched her soul
He leads her to his camp in secret
On the ground lie jewels and gold
But his eyes could never leave her
The greatest prize he ever stole
I woke to the sound of sizzling bacon, the aroma of fresh baked Muffins and my Beautiful Lenore in her bright green Teddy. "Nubbies", I said, "what time is it." Lenore said" for You it is 3:30P.M., June 27th, 2013. You are in the O.R. at Dartmouth Hospital. For me it is time to bring YOU to Eternity for a short time."What are You talking about; Baby." I died last night before we had time to go to the Bridal Suite. I do not want You to go through that pain again. Please come with me to the railing on the starboard side of the ship."Below the shuffle board deck?""Nubbies, just
trust me." As we walked outside, I noticed there was no air,no breeze, no sea lapping against the side of the boat, the sun seemed pasted in the sky. Where is Mom and Dad;where's my Ma, Where is everybody? Harry we are frozen in time, for last night and today; never happened for you. I asked the Lord to give us this time together. I was 3 months pregnant when I said "I DO" I want you to see JoAnne Naomi Grow up. Now
Full Moonlight Stand on the railing with me and when I say 3; Jump. 1, 2, 3. You would think we would plummet into the Caribbean Sea, but we splashed into the Full Moon. The sun was warm,the birds sat on my shoulders, singing a song of Life Forever. The Peace, Serenity and Tranquility was unearthly. I then saw GOD and the Son of Salvation hugged me and in a Mezmerizing Voice said Welcome Home.
To be Continued
I want to apologize to those of YOU who are punctuationally bound to Poetry I do not know how to punctuate people talking. I know I'm suppose to use "" marks Sorry I LOVE YOU ALWAYS and FOREVER YOUR Liege...Harry
A pair of monolid eyes, and I’m academically enlightened.
As if I’m some talented prodigy on his way to an Ivy League.
Able to quickly solve problems without ever breaking a sweat.
Absolutely - perfect - in every single subject I decide to take on.
Always an A+, an automated Asian-American achiever android
As an unwilling recipient of a C in Algebra 2, I really disagree.
Before you chant “Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your cow!”,
Consider the billions of Asians who are never working in STEM.
Division homework I can handle, algebraic functions, not so much.
Even with A’s in Geometry last year, my EOC score was only a two.
For every decent grade I earn, is a test I end up completely bombing.
Good student, yes. But “perfect student?” Not in this lifetime, I am.
The worst feeling in the world is falling so far behind these expectations.
Often, it seems like I’m sinking in an ocean of questions left unanswered.
The water filling up my lungs is all the pressure I have to endure each day.
The air I’m losing more and more of is the confusion and frustration I face.
It’s all too much to bear; not living up to this idea of what I’m supposed to be.
Sometimes, I wish I was one of those geeky cliches, non-Asians think of us as.
So no, Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia, Brown, Cornell, Dartmouth,
and Penn are not camping outside my door with a full-ride in their hands.
I don’t know how to graph cubic or polynomial functions to save my life.
Complex solutions and complicated rational functions have accurate names.
And shoutout to Chemistry, where my mathematical issues have extended to.
I still don’t get what those equations have to do with elements and formulas.
Truthfully, I’m just not the model minority stereotype people think I am.
I have many strengths and lots of weaknesses, just like everyone else.
I’m not special. I’m hardly the greatest mind this school has ever seen.
Am I thrilled about it? Heck no. If only I was good at Math and Science.
But what’s the use in lamenting? All I can do to change that is to improve.
Inside, I know I’m very smart. Not perfect at all. But still smart nonetheless.
Years from now, I’ll realize that, even with all my flaws, I am good enough.
And no matter how much I fit into a stereotype, the truth is all that matters
(This poem is a lightly satirical look back in history at what
was known as the Boston Tea Party)
Something's brewing on the Dartmouth
"Are those Mohawks that we see."
No, but over-taxed colonists crying
"Wake up and smell the tea."
England taxed her colonies monies
Which they could ill-afford
So they had a 'tea off' party
Dumping tea bags overboard.
England did not heed that warning
Her far away nostrils could not smell
How the tea did brew and simmer
On Boston's waters as they swelled.
Swelling high on tides of freedom
That only fate could see
But too late for dear old England
To wake up and smell the tea.
RETA PRUITT
August 21, 2016
82571 lima echo alfa juliet please respond.82571 lima echo alfa juliet are you there?
This is Harry who's this? Its Tom Mansfield. Tom you realize its 11:30 P.M. Sorry we have 5 climbers missing on the north side of Mooseluck and there has been an avalanche in
that area. Yea I thought I heard it earlier. I'm on my way up to Your place now Tom do you have an extra battery pack for the lamp mine's pretty low. Yep. I have
Billy Williams with me, You have extra gear for him. Yep. I'll put the coffee on What's your ETA? 20 minutes. This is 82571 lima echo alfa juliet signing off.
I'll never understand why these Dartmouth students have to mountain climb on the coldest day of the year, in a storm. Ok snowshoes, therma wraps, lamps, goggles and a map.Waiting for what seems like Hours I hear the bronco finally.
Tom, Billy I was just going to bed when YOU called, What do we have? Four men and a women Headed up Demon's Bluff 10 a.m. this morning. A women they're usually more level headed than men. According to the Information we have they are all seasoned vets at rock climbing In the winter time?? They were suppose to be back by 4P.M. 4pm why are we just hearing about it now. Gregg Tilman was the co-ordinator of a college dance, when he didn't show up to MC the dance we got called. It gets worst the only other name we have is his girlfriend, Elizabeth Townsend. I think it's going to be a long night Tom. Absorb the heat from the wood stove finish your coffee and dress warm
To be Cont.
What does it mean, to be green,
Referring to color, not politics or emotions.
There's some tints or hues, between yellows and blues;
With a lot of room, in between, for so many types of green.
There are some greens that actually say green:
Blue-green, yellow-green, light or dark green.
Other greens are just as real, for example: veridian,
Verdigris, chartreuse, teal, mantis and harlequin.
We've also seen, place names in green:
Dartmouth green, India green, forest green
Pakistan green, Paris green, sea green,
Cal Poly green, Persian green, office green.
Plants are mostly green, so many plant colors follow:
Artichoke, asparagus, honeydew, and avocado,
Apple, fern, lime, mint, olive, shamrock, forest, pistachio...
Anyone ever heard of phthalo?
What does it mean, to be green?
I, personally, get a thrill, out of chlorophyll.
All these greenish strengths, are really wavelengths
Of reflected light. We define which green is right.
FAREWELL TO NOVA SCOTIA
A net of cables stretching overhead in the mist to Dartmouth Bay:
Our boat slips under Angus McDonald bridge out into the Atlantic greys,
Leaving forever the blues and yellows of the clapboard houses and the days
Of Annapolis valley blossoms and hearing Pugwash bagpipes play.
Running the combers out to the horizon and slipping over, storm tossed:
The sight of our hilltops sinking away brings a salt taste of spirits lost,
Reaching, yearning to return just once to the fog-land we loved the most,
Jib and bowsprit stretching up from the water, farewell arm of a ghost,
We see again the beach at St. Mary’s with the crying gulls at their song,
And watch the whales blowing in Fundy’s Bay and the tides strong,
We follow the fish, the waves, the winds, summers short and winters long:
We know the cliffs where the land ends and where we belonged,
And the call of foghorns and the estuary lighthouses welcoming bright.
We walk the causeway at Canso Strait, left side frozen with St Lawrence ice white,
Right side side open to the water of the unfrozen Atlantic, dark as night.
We hear Nova Scotia call us : we’re home with our nets at last - and all’s right.
Saturday nights I remember
were bad in September
even worse in November
On campus, roving mobs and gangs
looking for girls to get drunk and then bang
In dorms, wise fools dropping LSD
screaming, trying to deal with reality
Frat boys throwing furniture through window glass
Mooning, blowing farts, and lighting the gas...
College days: The 'best years of my life' these hardly were
~ On my generation and me, an ineradicable slur
Just in case you're wondering:
I attended Dartmouth College
in 'Hangover, NH' from 1968 -
1972... 6 years later, 'Animal
House' was filmed there, not
surprisingly.
The American Scholar,
professor of English at Dartmouth College.
Books for children
were your domain.
From “The Trumpeter of Krakow”
I learnt the second part of the legend.
“The Golden Star of Halicz”,
has ancient story of Galicia.
In Mexico you helped the refugees,
while working for the U. S. State department.
They were descendants of victorious people,
later abandoned by their allies.
You traveled through the foreign countries,
observing people’s fates and faiths.
Learning their history,
you produced the literary gems.
"Wah-hoo-wah!"
said the 'bro,'
"Let's head toward
Fraternity Row."
The Library bells
toll ding-dong,
Drunken brothers
play beer-pong;
All through the night
play and drink,
By dawn of day,
their breath stinks.
Men of Darmouth,
give a rouse!
Party hearty
and carouse.
From every window
music blasting,
Led Zeppelin screaming
lyrics everlasting.
But, hey, poor freshman, if you feel left out,
Don't hang around your dorm and pout;
Lack of coeds needs a fix, sir?
Here's the recommended elixir:
Tonight's big Freshman Mixer!
So many girls there on parade--
None of whom wants to be an 'Old Maid.'
And so it goes,
all through the year,
Mechanical sex,
fueled by stale beer.
Debauched, promiscuous
four-year journey:
At whose end
you're ready to be,
quite miracululously--
A CPA, CEO, Physician, or Attorney!
“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells”,
Stated Theodore Geisel one time,
Yet further than just nonsense he wrote,
Who became famous from his unique type of rhyme.
His story begins,
March 2, 1904,
Son of a brewer,
Who ran a zoo for cuisine and much more.
Theodore graduated from Dartmouth College,
While drawing cartoons,
One of the places,
Where he thought up many of his loons.
Geisel began to write stories,
For children to read,
Though he had none of his own,
He never did breed.
His writings were quirky,
Each book had an outlandish nation,
Some words were even made up,
By people in his population!
But his issues dug deeper,
Though most could not plainly see,
Since his pages of pictures,
Were as strange as can be!
Discrimination and Religion,
And Richard M. Nixon,
Were all included,
In stories he was fixin.
Saving his real name,
For his more serious work,
He chose something more suitable,
Dr. Suess then served as his fork.
This Pulitzer Prize winning chap,
Wrote and illustrated 47 stories,
He was married twice,
And had a lifetime of glories.
Age 87 did he live,
Writing mainly for folks of young age,
Or so most firstly thought,
Because of characters like Sneetches and Mrs. McCave.
But his books can be loved,
Even by adults,
Because even a child’s story,
Can talk about other faults.
Red blood courses through my veins
I've written my will, I pay my bills
The currents of the day reach me too
I am a poet, not a hermit
At the sight of blood, I do not swoon
Nor do I ever sleep in 'til noon'
I'm a hardworking, fun-loving bloke
who appreciates a cold beer and a good joke
Married with kids, I encourage them in
math and science, for that is the future
Better that they can program computers
than study Latin and Greek with a private tutor
I am a poet, not a recluse
I have morals and values, I'm not 'loose'
I want my kids to pilot jets, not sit in a caboose
to be proud descendants of Theodore Gisell*
~ not Dr. Suess
________________________________________
'Dr. Suess' was Theodore Gisell's pen name. A
graduate of Dartmouth College in the 1920's, Gi-
sell was a man of action and adventure. Among
other gigs, he reported on WW2 as an embedded
reporter in the trenches with the troops. ~ gw
Avatar Queen
The mask or the screen
What’s never to know
What’s never to see
Avatar Queen
Your name to mislead
One more cryptic posting
That always deceives
Avatar Queen
Both petty and preened
The bees in your bonnet
Its stinger unclean
Avatar Queen
You know what I mean
With feelings all borrowed
And vistas unseen
Avatar Queen
The sourest cream
No reason to wish
All hope dressed in green
Avatar Queen
Your anger unweaned
My answer then sharp
My rapier clean
Avatar Queen
Not to sleep or to dream
Your nightmare awoken
In daylight you scream
Avatar Queen
One curse washes clean
Your blessings defaced
No chance to redeem
(Dartmouth-Hanover New Hampshire: July, 2016)
On the cliff at the Worm’s Head
High above the horns of the bay
I see the surfers ride great waves
With horses’ manes
That ever fail, but never end
In the strong Atlantic surge
In the estuary at Dartmouth
Where the oyster boats dredge
Turning and drifting in slow shadow dance
Great nets of shells are hauled up
And poured out on to the decks
As I plunge upriver
Tacking along the wending Dart
With bent-puzzle oaks on either side
I hear a sudden hush descend
Upon a lonely river hythe
As time and air, smooth and still
Forever glide, like Mayflies
On cold, clear water
In the seaway by the port
With its unmistakable algal aroma
Of the British seashore
I hear the heavy horn of a freighter
That plies its path
And never sinks, yet ever diminishes
Beyond the waves
And far from the pier of the seaside town
Where sandpipers probe
In spiral casts
I hear the penthal call of the curlew
Like silver flourishes on a black cloud
That never moves, but holds dominion
In the cold morning air.
It's so hard to select just one president --
even harder to put a new resident
into a WH occupied by true decadents
You think I mean Biden and Trump, ho-ho
but I'm thinking Bush vs. Gore, and Clinton, you know
for true and lasting decadence, Slick Willy takes precedence
__________________________________________________
It may still come as news to some, but Bill and Hilary trashed
the WH upon their departure, taking 'stuff' valued at well over
$300,000 home with them. They regarded the White House as
'their home,' and themselves as 'deserving royalty.' ~ Source:
Dinesh de Souza's book, "Stealing America." (I know Dinesh,
who graduated Dartmouth College, as did I. He's a straight
shooter).