Best Roommate Poems
This is no joke,
Ever since I moved to this place,
My roommate always competes with me,
In everything that I do,
Doesn't matter what,
Like I study she studies too,
I cook, she cooks at the same time,
I get up to go to the bathroom,
Se races me before I even get there,
I go out, she goes out at the same time,
I laugh, she laughs louder,
I talk on the phone, her phone rings,
My friends come over, guess what so does hers.
I am so annoyed with this.
Why cant she just grow up?
What is wrong with her?
Can you tell?
Because I am really curious.
Unhealthy human body, fighting its owner, in need of a Goldsmith
months of hygiene malpractice, now counting as the sixth,
his blanket of microflora possesses a morgue beneath
weeks without touching water, despite the pretense quite stealth
one, five, seven, nine; already getting umpteenth.
From 03:18am to 20:16 hours; the evidence of my anger’s width
awful smell, recites loud acrostics from low esteem teeth
and the rate of hang-over vomitus, beats any myth,
last month was 89; already 83, ten days later, is this filth
my mathematics can’t be wrong, rent expires on the fifteenth.
When your baby leaves home you are either overjoyed or sad.
I was overjoyed, until I could not reach her on her phone for days,
and then a week, and then ten days.
Her roommate said her stuff was there, but
“I never see her.”
I asked if she could tell whether or not she had been there recently,
and she told me that she could not.
These were pre-texting days. My helpless eighteen-year-old daughter
was four hours away from home, at a college she had chosen. I was worried,
so I called everybody including the phone company down there. I asked everyone to put
a note on her dorm door, telling her to call her mother.
We got a call that night from an angry daughter who said this
to her dad, “What does Mom want?”
She was embarrassed and irritated that six people had yelled at her to call her
mother, and there were two notes stuck to her door that
said ‘call your mother’ - one from the phone company.
Six people who cared. Six strangers I do not know. Six angels.
I wondered which four did not step up.
Roommate mosquito
waits for me to hit the sack
turns to a vampire,
my hand strikes as a hammer,
it flies out, I break my neck.
______________
August : 30, 2021
Contest : A Buggy Tanka Contest
Sponsor : M.L. Kiser
(a story in senryu stanzas)
I get migraines.
- lucky me - glare can set me
off within seconds.
I always have a
pair of dark, polarized shades
with me - it’s a quirk.
When I was fourteen,
we lived in Shenzhen, China
very near Macau.
Macau, China, the
“Las Vegas” of Asia, is
the home of glare.
The Ritz-Carlton, has
a glittering galaxy
of bright chandeliers.
Those chandeliers move,
their silhouettes change shape - just
stab me with a spork.
Did I mention the
Mirrors? Every wall served to
magnify the light.
“You look awful,” my
mom said - our two week booking
became ten minutes.
“I just need sunnies,
those would work,” *then I gasped*
“I’ll look glamorous!”
We changed hotels, but
what a small world - my roommate
Leong grew up there.
We could have passed in
the yè shì as teenagers
and now we're roommates.
.
.
sunnies = sunglasses (UK slang)
yè shì = night market (simplified Chinese)
That room;
And the bathroom too,
She made them alien territory.
My petty sentiments kicked in,
And made me a slave to my roommate.
The scented atmosphere, stockings;
Frilly brassieres in plain sight,
And blouses bright as gardens—thrilling,
But foreign!
Lo, an invasive roommate.
Some mornings she would come
Out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam:
Hair in a towel— enchantingly beautiful :
A leg flashing from her bathrobe;
The roommate's pre-dating game.
Some nights she would stay in bed.
The seductive V beneath her throat aloof.
She thought it so peaceful to be with me.
She would leave my mind intertwisted;
The ideal roommate for me.
She would talk about her lover
In such excruciating detail,
But the whispery flute of her voice
Was so light it made everything
Around her seem heavy and harsh.
My jowls sagged as they listened to her.
I sat with her like those monoliths,
My squat boulders plumped upright.
I regretted every night I let her
Sleep on the bed next to mine.
The soft breaths of my sleeping beauty
Would leave me dreaming of dominion.
I would gaze at her face for a little while;
Longer everyday because
She was my roommate.
Once she went away for a night.
I left the lights off and just stood there;
I just breathed the alien air,the perfume.
Then I crept to her closet; I reached inside;
I hid a letter for her to find.
She read my letter and one night
She was scared of the dark.
She invited me over to her bed.
My hand rubbed against her velvet skin
And my little heart played rock 'n' roll.
I rubbed a slip of hers between my fingers It was so sheer it seemed to catch on
The ridges of my fingerprints.
That night I had my very first kiss
From my roommate.
I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed watching the patterns reflected moonlight made on my ceiling when I heard the faint beep of the kitchen microwave. I smelled popcorn.
I decided to fill up my water bottle and see who was up. I slipped on a thick, terrycloth robe I’d gotten from Lisa last Christmas. It must weigh 15 pounds and it’s so warm and heavy I seldom wear it.
I silently glided into the main room. Leong was standing at one of our two large picture windows staring out at the night. Her left arm cradling a bowl of ultimate-butter popcorn. Anna told me last night that Leong and her long-time boyfriend, who’s back in China, had broken up. They’d been together forever and had been expected to marry.
A bright half-moon was hanging high over campus, an electric ornament on a velvet background, its moonlight glint painted the world, like ice on mountaintops.
“I heard about your breakup,” I said, “what does it mean?” In Leong’s world, who you dated was of family interest. That person had to be approved, their bona fides proven - they had to fit into some long term plan.
“It means I can’t be tamed,” she said, with soft bravado. After a moment, she spoke again, more seriously. “It’s better this way - for now - someday..,” she trailed off.
I understood. All of our hopes are resting on someday, like so many wagers at a casino. I imagined some gambler, stepping up to a betting window, in an old black-and-white movie, saying, ”Gimmie 5 bucks on Someday to win.”
Something in her voice, a brittleness, precluded further questions. I looked at the clock, it read 3:47. I gave her a hug and yawning, filled up my water bottle from the refrigerator's filtered tap.
“See ya.” I whispered and headed off, back to bed. With any luck I could squeeze another hour's sleep out of the morning.
The "poem length police have nabbed me again - so I had to put my new piece
"Sunny"
in the story story section.
Here's the URL:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/sunny_9449
Leong (one of my roommates) squirms up to me at breakfast, in the cafeteria.
“May I ask..,” she said, looking around like a secret agent getting ready to make a dead-drop, “what contraceptives do you use?”
I thought this an odd question from someone who just broke up with her long-time boyfriend but, hey, I’m an open book.
“Isolation and despair,” I replied, which got me an eye roll.
“You’re never serious!” She admonishes me.
there is a cotton feeling to it:
the same sheets
the same bed
still looking for a song
that doesn’t exist yet.
the door closes quietly, pushed not.
I think of a comfortable ending—
the ghosts under my skin agree.
a comfortable ending
a concerned mother
a cotton feeling
My houseplant committed suicide.
It came out of the blue - or at least - I didn’t catch the signs.
I’d put it on my window ledge so it could catch some sun
- it appeared to be having a good time.
I brushed it with my elbow - the wispy kiss of a butterfly
and it leapt to its shattering end - I never will know why.
The girl it barely missed, looked up - in accusatory alarm.
“What if that had been a BABY!” I yelled, to keep her calm.
We had a terra-cotta funeral - my roommates seemed really sad -
and a reception where no plant-life was consumed.
Lisa, acted quickly - she’s a fashionable 911
and at the funeral she buried the corpse, in a new pot, in her room.
(none fiction)
A roommate from hell, I will never forget.
It first started out nice until "he" was touch
by a demon from hell.
We became enemies, I figured what the hell.
That's when I realized it was touched by the demon from hell.
He was possess and seduce by the demon from hell.
So the roommate from hell became a nightmare at his best.
He started doing drugs, smoking marijuana like a lost soul.
For as we became enemies, his new friend was the demon from hell.
I do not know why but that seems to happen to every roommate I've had.
I am glad I have my own, so it wouldn't corrupted my son too.
I will never forget the roommate from hell and his demon for all they have done. For he had stole my gold bracelet with my name on it that my mom had given me for he couldn't accept been defeated.
I posted a new story poem - too long for here - look under short stories
Maybe this link will work…
https://www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/lunch_crush_9333
Sunny and her love-object have broken up.
It was a selfie-inflicted wound - a slapdash pic taken,
that like a puzzle, revealed more than intended.
We try and be thoughtful and considerate but
we’ve only recently escaped from captivity.
Perfectly nice people are capable of unfaithful deeds.
Isn’t that what so much of great literature is about?
Our lives are written in disappearing ink,
and it’s not as if all kisses are meaningful.
We stretch for happiness or for fleeting pleasure
- we’re not married and only vaguely committed.
What would tempt you - what could you actually resist at 18?
Or now - but maybe you’re a saint.
Roommate is on my plate
Dropping herself into my grits
Little flecks of warm porridge splash into my eyes
It is one of Trixie’s assistant muses
She has a killer smile and rainbow hair
Hi she greets me with telepathy
Lump of eggs rises
I see two glowing green eyes
Getting higher and taller.
Fascinated I smile
Wondering what will happen next
Grape jelly jar falls over with a clink next to plate.
“She is comin!” A tiny red brownie driving gem encrusted chariot hisses.
Rainbow muse and mini-dragon jump aboard the chariot
Trixie my main muse is riding black puma with stars chasing them now
Her head turns toward me. She glares and sticks out her tongue.
The perils of having a hopped up overly territorial muse
I cringe wondering what diabolical fate will next befall me.