Dorm Poems - Poems about Dorm

Yale student radio (wybcx) is playing throughout the suite. I’m working on chemistry problems but when a song I don’t know is good enough to catch my attention, I add it to one of my gazillion Spotify playlists - God, I love the Internet. One of our roommates, Sophy, is from California. She’s brilliant and friendly...

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Lisa, a freshman in our residential hall sister-suite, and I have become fast friends over the last couple of weeks. Before we began hanging out I penned a piece about her that she thought was hilarious. Last Friday night Lisa and I were supposed to meet people at “the buttery” (a café in the dorm...

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Lisa, a fellow freshman who lives in our neighbor suite, is a breathtaking beauty from New York - the kind of beauty that toppled ancient Greek empires - a sun-like beacon to the male sex. Anna (one of my four suitemates) gasped and said, “The gods walk among us.” The first time we saw her...

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I finished moving into my residential college as a storm began - fat raindrops, as big as coconuts, falling from a black and fouling sky. These northerners were acting like a "tropical storm" (Henri) was a big deal. “Surely New England gets storms?” I ask, from behind my mask. “What about NOR_Easters?” I say, like a meteorologist. “Those are different.”...

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Vacuum by Michael R. Burch Over hushed quadrants forever landlocked in snow, time’s senseless winds blow... leaving odd relics of lives half-revealed, if still mostly concealed... such are the things we are unable to know that once intrigued us so. Come then, let us quickly repent of whatever truths we’d once determined to learn: for whatever is left, we are unable to discern. There’s nothing left of...

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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...

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Storm Did Form In Trump's Dorm We did see some storm, Which soon had started to form, That was in Trump's dorm. Jim Horn...

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Ours was daily mysterious, sometimes near mystical, rapture; a sensual yet platonic dorm-mate love affair, within the only male grad student corridor at SFSU. He was the presumably straight Vietnam veteran southern white good ol' boy, athletically studying Japanese, with a gentle passion for young Japanese women. Did his all things Japanese culture love precede his Vietnam War experience, or was this a response to West-East violence, inviting...

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So what would you do if you woke up one morning to a sign on your dorm room door saying in no uncertain terms this is for warning you that the reek in the halls has exceeded the tolerance levels our policy calls for? C'mon y'all! We know we accept brilliant devils but we expect you to at least bat your...

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