My friend most beautiful
sat shoulder to shoulder with me
after the lights went low
and the show began.
We took in ballad after ballad
the tender voice hour after hour
and a spell was cast.
The song of Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight
spoke to me— I could almost cry.
I glanced at her
and she looked straight ahead.
This was the night I wanted for months
although we had some casual dates
o the times when I pleaded for more
but tonight she was so tender
when I put my arm around her shoulder.
I knew the night was good for her
when we stepped out the elevator
onto her dormitory floor
and the music resonated in my mind.
The taste of her kiss was so sweet
on that special night.
She must have known
it was our last.
The women screamed when a man peeked into the room.
The seasoned nurse said pardon you! To the groom.
Is my wife in here? He asked, with his face in the door.
I will be there in a minute, said his wife, name Eleanor.
The other women were glad for her, but did not like to see
A peeking Tom even if it was her husband, Mr. McFee.
This was a women’s dormitory, no men allowed.
Even one little man seemed to feel a bit like a crowd.
Education is her business;
Here, she needs no helper witness,
In all her classrooms Time Table,
In dormitory Dining Table…
Has now dumped chalk for Board Marker-
School has to be a pace-maker,
Where ‘Behavior becomes “Conduct”
Reader of Reports guess “Product”
Says both Scholarship and Moral:
Science clubs, Debate and Choral,
Strongly linked with Nation’s Future,
From schools shown Tomorrow’s Picture,
Clings to Reward and Punishment:
For child’s scoring: The Rudiment…
Where Exams are quite important
While papers are exorbitant
Things in life schools regulate,
Who’d been groomed should voice modulate...
Folks are saying “It should be free”
But funding comes not from a tree…
A dwindling light threads the dimming woods
into mist-coated shadows.
A stretch of gray-sheened water
reflects the phantom forms of homing wings,
skimming birds that must seek now
a dark cradle of shelter.
The sun has drowned
yet still rides a rippling after-image.
All the weary hunters,
the bustling gatherers, and weed-waders
return now to a coverlet of listening silence,
a nocturnal dormitory
where noiseless owls quest
for the slightest hint
of moonlit eyes.
Remembering the good times
in my college dormitory
I come up empty
Is it me that's changed
or my memory
I am going up the pub
Because it’s become our village hub
There used to be once be three or four
But alas they are no longer more
We then lost our village shop
That was quite a shock
It was the centre of our community
Our village is now just a dormitory
For London Town or Milton Keynes
They are the current reality
They though suck life from the village
Until there is nothing left in it
No church, no school, no village council,
No shops, no neighbours, nor no locals
Houses that are far to dear, for anyone to live here
I do though love the place where I live, so please do let it exist
DAMO
I sang of Caleb at Harvard University, 1660
I sang of Africans come to America unknowingly
I sang of women and children who came to Jesus
Singing Old Spirituals, Crossing the Red Sea
Native-Americans may have lost everything, but one -
Their love for land. Highest ratio in our wars. True patriotism!
Like King David, who wasn't allowed to build God's Temple
Yet the biggest donor, because God Great Giver's, never outdone
I sing of Cheeshahteamuck, First in Theology in 1660
Died of TB, malnutrition, dank & cold dormitory
Like them, I know the HEART OF JESUS, the Victory
He won through suffering. The Cross: "The Way" of Unity
I sing of Africa, my adopted mother, womb of more slavery
Still, all this world is slave to sin, pleasure, false security ...
Whatever GOD allows, is BEST and the best place to be
SURRENDER to NOW: like Jesus, tasting & sharing ETERNITY
Facing struggles of separation anxiety
such darkness midst anguish I felt with certainty
yet due to childhood’s knowledge-obscurity
I could not fathom its reality.
I dreaded being far from my mother and her presence
God’s love I delighted in through her care’s iridescence
so when she announced about her would-be absence
torturous separation-despair gripped my innocence.
Years later, Mom brought me to a campus’ dormitory
which would be my home – away from relatives’ territory
parting from Mom made me weary of homesickness-worry
but God’s grace healed my culture shock-caused injury.
The greatest blow of separation-distress* hit my heart
when Mother’s last breath set me from her apart
were it not for God’s comfort, I could be paralyzed by grief-dart
making me agonize painfully … groping on how to start.
I thank God for making me move on with Mom’s sweet memories
while savoring the joy of her inspiring victories
by faith, I know that Mom now is triumphing over miseries…
we’ll be reunited to praise the Lord forever; enjoying Bible stories.
*Psalm 120:1 In my distress I cried unto the LORD, and he heard me.
July 7, 2018
10/1/17
Reaching destinations
Exceeding expectations
Staying professional
Getting it done in a way that is exceptional
Far from probable
Didn't seem possible
But it happened and was phenomenal
Was stuck like barnacles
Then moved among the particles
Doing something remarkable
With or without using an arsenal
More than a poet
In case you didn't know it
Stoic
And heroic
Doing things that are stupendous
And tremendous
More than scary
Extraordinary
Giving opposition a coronary
So that they end up in the mortuary
Not no dormitory
No matter the suspense
Events continue to commence
Leaving an impact that is immense
On either side of the fence
In forests that are dense
Ah! death the deceiver,
"come,lie,relax and
take a deep slumber",
with sweet lies,
death deceived your father,
from piles of wrapper
to his ghostly dormitory,
on a bed with earth as coverings.
let this musical notes be carried,
by the white dove bird,
along the hallowed path he ascend,
may be they will give him strength,
to fight his way back to us.
but he looks not back,
his soul is gone to hide,
from death,
from us
and above the sky.
Flying on a broomstick, taking the Knight Bus
Arriving on the platform without any fuss
Visiting Warner Brothers for a fan was a must
In the magic and the mystery we all did trust
A Wow! As we entered the magnificent Grand hall
As soon as we saw it, we knew we'd have a ball
Dumbledore's Office, Boys Dormitory
Waiting to unfold in every wonderful story
Wands a waving, spells in the air abound
Excitement growing, a blast as we look around
Special effects, spectacular impressive artwork
Spellbound mesmerised with every little quirk
Swigging pints of butter beer sitting in the cafe
A trip along the cobble streets of Diagon Alley
On to Pivet Drive, letters are a floating
We hear the steam engine puffing and gloating
And finally we leave the trip admiring J.K. Rowling
Recommending to you all, as it lovingly leaves you glowing.
In the world of viruses criminatory
Quick Heal is the best category
Which I chose as my advisory
And freely continued my story.
Viruses made my PC dilatory;
Looking into browsers defamatory,
Inserting memory cards accusatory,
Unsafe browsing was dormitory
Hacking my info was depository
And to stop this, there was no jury;
At this juncture came this Hoary.
Quick Heal is the best category;
Quick Heal removed PC’s quarry
And made my PC safest Glory;
All ill things made eliminatory.
Among all it is the best Allegory
And is really a judgement priori.
It scuttles the ground like an octopus
Leap by leap and lick by lick like an ocean current
With a viciousness that clings coldly into our minds
The fiery angry tongues of yellow gold goblets
Flair furiously at the first gust of wind
That billows at it as if lightened by
Another gallonn of gasoline.
Black coals of burnt debris meet our eyes
As the flames continue to choke the building
Into a dusty black chalk
We gather outside anxiously
To look for those who were on that same block
They are safe! By a miracle!
It remains a grim tragedy for us all.
My throat chokes dry with disbelief
My mind wonders how it happened
Because its an arson attack
The second time the block was burning down
As if not choked enough to death by its haters
And it was in our little minds that one of us
Was a little devil who enjoyed seeing
Suffering on the faces of others
The cold morning air stiffened with mystery
As we watched half burnt tooth brushes, books
And mattresses shoved out of the smoked inferno.
Distress and heart ache written all over
All our strained faces peeping into the deathly dormitory
The morning sunrise
penetrated the dormitory window
creating the oscillating shadow
that moved silently across
the solid wood floor.
A young boy was made to stand
upon the punishment chair,
daring to glance above the rafters
appeared sturdy and robust, while,
suspended rope indiscriminate conveying
towards one frail and frighten child,
its pragmatic noose tailored to conform
to the silken neck of the five year old.
That moment, now frozen
within an ancient memory
‘Heeded Death’
Swayed by a resonant momentum
‘The Sisters of Mercy’
Executed their message
‘While the seeds of youth
were shattered within a pristine mind!’
© Harry J Horsman 2011