A silent door awaits a stranger's knock,
My nose bleeds cold when I hear thunderstorms.
Red blood cells through veins make radio talk,
And my feet walk out of shivering dorms.
Her soft tongue voice revokes my disaster,
And my rib cage becomes a flower park.
She’s my sunflower that brings me laughter,
A smiling sun, a company in dark.
Her figure fascinates my existence,
My eyes smile when I look at her picture.
Far winds carry her scent and close distance
Warms my skin and slim fingers write scripture.
She knows my home—a side of a river,
A memory of love, flows forever.
Dear Love
I hope that you embrace me with joy
I ask that you ease the pain,
and shine without hesitation
Dear Love
I ask that when you arrive, sit in
the closet chair
Whisper forget me knots and sonnets
sprinkle rain of joy, like confetti
I ask that you be gentle, not shy away
from difficulties, to embrace the ugly
with beauty and grace
Dear Love
If you leave, please leave the door open
do not regret visiting these dorms of
sadness and strife
If you leave , do not forget to visit
with welcoming arms once again
Classes on tranny and ***** diversity
universities reek of perversity
Discrimination abounds all around
save if your skin's black or brown
Tuition hikes obscene, naked robbery
flaunt luxury dorms and diners, effete snobbery
Not a smidgen on learning or teaching in glittering reports
just facilities upgrades, data analytics in sports
Grade inflation boosts illiteracy ever higher
agree or disagree ~ at least I'm no liar
Hailed countries, old and new
Old civilization, myth or true
North to South, poetry of bards
East to West like flash of cards
Names on maps are words in gaps
Eloquence or simplicity in poetry snaps
Your poetry speaks of geography
Origins of people, languages and philosophy
Your words and thoughts so grand in many forms
Rocks of inspiration in a volcano dorms
White is for rice and brides - ready to commit.
White’s for ghosts and clouds or even carnations
but it should never, ever, be used for privilege
or worse yet, as poetic inspiration.
I’ve been waiting for the urge to write
while facing an ugly screen of white.
Waiting for the vowels to fall into place,
for words to congeal and finally displace
the awful, foreboding, blank white space.
Learning is our struggle, our crown of thorns.
The more we study and prepare for fall,
the more excited I get to reenter those halls.
34 days until classes start. For fall weather,
and the bee hum of crowded life in the dorms.
My roommates and I are like a single, nameless thing
- an emolument that happens to have 6 heads.
We’ve beaten the freshman “imposter syndrome,”
and we’re ready to bring sophomore year home -
together - no muss, no fuss - I love that for us.
The women who work in the lab have beauty and charm,
Each having a role to play in orderly fashion;
They never treat you like a guinea pig on a farm.
They take care in their work with a whole lot of passion.
There are so many jobs that they all have to perform,
But none of them are less important than the next one.
From the ones who scan to the ones who check on the dorms,
They are very well organized while they’re having fun.
Though the ones with the needles truly mean you no harm,
You may feel a little pinch when they break through the skin.
Though a minor discomfort in the fold of your arm,
Don't be offended; they'll do it again and again.
The women in scrubs are all very friendly and nice.
They are quite gentle and always have a nice smile.
If you stay on their good side, they won't even think twice.
That inch of kindness may stretch into a long mile.
Now, Mackenzie and Theresa have the same story.
They also walk around with a smile on their face.
Though not in scrubs, they are both as friendly as can be,
But we all know who is really in charge of this place.
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.
It is college visit day! I am the adult in charge.
Taking eighteen sixth graders, some rather large.
They get off the bus and try to keep up with me.
I’m the old one, but filled with enduring energy.
We tour the dorms, the campus, the bookstore and such.
They are limping as we climb steps, some very much.
Keep up! I yell, in a happy, exuberant carefree kind of way,
Glad they cannot keep up with me – an old woman who’s gray.
We finally get to the end of our tour, and are shown a video.
They show them how to dress from side to side, head to toe.
Specifically show fuzzy socks and sandals and say this is not the right way.
One points to my feet and yells “Hey! Look at Miss Kay!”
They all look and snicker and laugh and one passes some gas.
I am glad they can have such fun, so I give them a pass.
I am wearing my fuzzy socks and my crocs, a bit of a fool,
But I am not limping as we get on the bus to return to school.
Written 6-28-2011
Contest: Fuzzy socks and crocs
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Why do I worry?
Why do the things I don’t know scare me?
Why have my dreams gone from colorful utopias,
to darker wastelands I don’t remember?
Why am I so afraid to face tomorrow
when not knowing brings me sorrow?
Every day goes the same
I always feel like I’m to blame
Months ago, the world almost tore itself apart
Almost seemed like everyone lost their heart
The unknown consumed us all
When we thought things would be normal in the fall
The unknown is no terrible thing
The world became clearer in my eyes
I saw things I have never seen before
Felt things I never felt before
And thought things I never would have before
Who knew isolation would be the greatest gift of all
The gift came in many forms
An example would be being away from the dorms
Another would be realizing I want an image I can call my own
Instead of the image my parents have set in stone
I have finally found my peace of mind
Who knew all my life I’ve been so blind
So, I thank the unknown
Because now I sit on a golden throne
Before my breath touches the morning air,
My thoughts in taciturnity upon suppression of solitudes…
Inhibition initiates interdiction within the hibernal hollow,
Where time a frozen fortress amidst the saturninity still.
The covertness of oblivions obedient in their absolution,
Daunting dorms of doldrums debilitate in their debacle…
Where the vaporous voids echo in their virginal vacuums,
The muted madness mandates the asphyxiated air.
Segregated silent sorrows suffice within my chaotic cage.
Where ignorance incubates immoral idols imposing…
The hellion hordes encroach the silent sentinels standing,
The laconism within my heart erupts with forbidden fury.
The silence sings with thunder as a tear touch’s the ground,
My empty eternal eyes dormant amongst horizons hid…
My mind in a decadent declination before walls of illusions,
And thus before a wounded wake, I am trapped in tangled time.
June.23.2020
Reflection in Silence
Sponsored by~ Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
In disingenuous defenseless dreams of the damned have wept
They awaken within sempiternal solitudes that they have slept
They're above all asseveration of tenacious tears they accept
For inside patricentric passage of time becomes illogically inept
The axiomatic assembly of manqué multitudes in pacifistic plight
Their damnation dorms of diversity desecrated upon a fatal finite
Humankind’s humility a harbinger of ritualistic recrudescent rite
And sorrowful sins syndicate with vigorous velocity and appetite
Their altruistic ambient soul tangled torn beyond comprehension
Desolate deprived within a deceitful delight of a demons detention
Isolated and audaciously abandoned onto the grasp of evil intention
May love levitate their tragic turmoil and align them with ascension.
...play the video first...then listen to the poem any time after that...
...Reprise from March.28.2018...
March.07.2020
Winged Warrior
Not for Contest
What is home?
Please, stop and ponder.
Is it walls of which we’re fonder
than of any safe enclosure
where we keep our cool composure?
Is it ceilings, doors and floors?
But those things you find in stores
and in offices and schools,
in asylums meant for fools.
What is home? I ask again.
Just a hiding place from pain?
But a haven from life’s storms?
Could be so… but campus dorms —
even rooms by weekly rates —
offer shelter from the Fates.
What is home? It’s not a lot.
I can tell you what it's not:
not a place and not a time;
not a word and not a rhyme;
not your rent and not your food;
not your sleep or gloomy mood.
Well, I’ve kept you in suspense.
Talking nonsense? Talking sense?
Time to crack the envelope.
Time for what we call 'straight dope.'
What is home?
In my plain view,
home is very simply… you.
Slaves could not devise an escape plan until their thinking arrived in a free state of mind. Couldn't begin to break free from bondage that surrounded their bodies because an intact spirit was key for the freedom they needed. So they, the masters, solidified sanctuaries and brought a savior to fix a brokenness they had induced. Gave one direction to single point of entry. Told them to repent for sins they were never privy to until illegitimate children began establishing the first welfare state. Then they said, "It's all on you." That makeshift cell formed dorms and prisons broken men came to live in. One thought he was free, while the other began forming an escape plan. Both came from the same sanctuary designed to keep them from attaining a free state of mind. One grew accustomed to it. The other ran out there screaming, "I knew it! I knew it!" If God were truly in man, we wouldn't had to devise such an elaborate escape plan. And if he is, why did he beat this attitude in me?
In disingenuous defenseless dreams of the damned have wept
They awaken within sempiternal solitudes that they have slept
They're above all asseveration of tenacious tears they accept
For inside patricentric passage of time becomes illogically inept
The axiomatic assembly of manqué multitudes in pacifistic plight
Their damnation dorms of diversity desecrated upon a fatal finite
Humankind’s humility a harbinger of ritualistic recrudescent rite
And sorrowful sins syndicate with vigorous velocity and appetite
Their altruistic ambient soul tangled torn beyond comprehension
Desolate deprived within a deceitful delight of a demons detention
Isolated and audaciously abandoned onto the grasp of evil intention
May love levitate their tragic turmoil and align them with ascension.
March.28.2018
Triple-A Challenge
Sponsored by: Robert Haigh
Placed 9'th
Fear of rejection can come to us all
Feeling alone like facing the wall
All the outside just staring in
If only they could see what is within
Not feeling the spirit from all around
Just want to hide, open up the ground!
Rejection can come in many forms
From playground antics and college dorms
It can even turn up in a relationship
Too change this one shoot from the hip
To tackle rejection do it head on
Find out why and remain strong
Is it emotional or is it social
Both of these are psychological
They can be treated and sorted out
But remain calm try not to shout
Rejection can cause anger and aggression
External and even inward explosion
Don't blame yourself as this you don't need
Find a safe place, breathe slowly or read
A reason for this thought you won't find
It's a receptor buried deep in the mind
Studies say it's from out evolutionary past
They managed, so keep calm have a blast
Emotional pain is hard to ignore
Stay positive and don't become a bore
Pick yourself up and find the light
Then your life will start to be bright
Keep working on the little things
Then you will find what happiness brings
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