The midnight bell chimed through
the empty halls.
Dust settled softly over trophies
on the walls.
Lockers slammed shut with a
metallic, sudden boom.
As freezing air flooded inside the
history room.
Footsteps echoed sharply down
the dim West Wing.
Through no one was there to hear
the sirens sing.
A phantom chalkboard wrote a
single name in red.
The roster of the students who
were long since dead.
I hid beneath the desk, my
breathing sharp and fast.
Trapped inside a prison built of a
horrific past.
The heavy smell of smoke began
to choke the air.
As phantom fire crackled wildly
down the stairs.
Then shadows stretched out from
the dark gymnasium floor.
And skeletal hands began to rattle
every door.
The guidance counselor's door
swung slowly, widely wide.
Revealing teeth and glowing eyes
that waited deep inside.
The hallway lengthened out into a
endless maze.
As glowing red eyes locked into my
terrified gaze.
There are many zones
the popular Twilight Zone
crossing the school zone
with all the basics
like writhing and reeling and
arrhythmias are fatal
for Western students
cluelessness, secrecy, and
incapacity
ignored globe grows dust
and the school's walls have blackboards
dartboards for target practice
the teachers alarmed
walled Glocks that toll assassins
the lambs are noisy
indoors and outdoors
the hung apple's score tallies
The Tree of Knowledge still grows
principal announced
school will close for funerals
the town folks will meet
and begs an answer
school razed for homeschooling
new breeds promise no more graves
twenty-twenty-five
parents, their kid's commencements
gymnasium armed
library screams sh!
nobody crossing zone signs
fronts empty cemetery
The sun caught you by surprise
reflecting your radiance,
with its thousands of eyes,
searchlights of the day,
right when I grabbed you out
of the blue gymnasium of the sea
as it revealed
your unmatched colors,
dazzling like a celestial harmony,
a prism,
showing me your spirit in the calm noonday light,
until you became a captive
in my hand,
and for one moment you were mine,
and then,
just like that,
i released you,
knowing you wanted to be
back where you were born,
into the indifference
of the ocean.
Hand's Up Dashing, Feat Moving, Ball Grasping .... Let's Soar!
Sound's Fill The Gymnasium, Nothing Blocks Our Chore!
Inside, Outside, .... Up And Down, Once, .... More!
Basket Bucket, Rim, Rim, Shoot From The Floor;
Bounce Tap, Dribble Tap,
Great We'll Score!
Past An Orange Ball, Above Two Rim's Of Red.
Catching Signal's Sign's Running On The Power Lines.
Adding On The Score To Winning, ... Time.
Adding On The Score To Winning, .... Time!
A Chance Rest's Up To Win The Cash, Let's Jump!
Shuffling Feat Quick And Neat, Strongest On The Backboard Please!
Gain's From Our Strain's Leaving Nothing On The Past;
Up And Down The Backboard, Up And Down The Backboard!
Gain's From Our Strain's Aren't Fading In The, .....
Basket Bucket Rim, Rim,
Shoot From The Floor.
Bounce Tap, Dribble Tap, .... Great We'll, .... Score!!
!
Doric columns supported the xyst
with ancestral plane trees and boxwood
lining the spaces between and whispering
the secrets of ancient polished stone.
The promenade led to the gymnasium
where zealous athletes of strength and valor
practiced their regiment for the Games
to earn enhanced esteem and station.
So compelling now to amble and hear
their eager, raised voices of so long ago,
echoing through the walled garden
if one remains silent, and listens.
Personified evil
I feel repulsed when he is near; I ought to have compassion
for this cripple, his twisted foot and arm
a beggar with scabby skin and eyes as black as looking into
the dark side of the moon.
This is not a person you can be nice to the more you give
the more he hates you and wishes you an early death.
His diversion is to follow funeral processions but no into
the cemetery, no one wants him there.
Why do I hate this person must be a background for me?
Childhood, when I lived in fear of the undead.
After the war in Norway, there was hunger in the land
but I noticed at the gymnasium the children
of the middle classes, who went to be the new suits
a concrete box for trash, unopened parcels of food.
I had to be quick in case the rats took it.
A rat jumped up and tried to catch the food eyes shone
of hatred hated me for being human.
Like the cripple who dislikes humanity, who he blames
for his perpetual hardship.
This dirty little person was hated by his mother denying
she gave birth to this satanic being
I hate and fear him too, four black horses, where he is
the only mourner.
It was 1971, and I wore fish net stockings at the end of the school year
I had no garter belt so I used knots but they soon fell to my ankles, Oh Dear !
December 1, 2021
ps, This is a true story. My Aunt Annetta worked in a hosiery factory
she brought me some bright pink fish net socks and told me to wait
until mom bought me a garter belt. I was so eager to wear them
I did what all the grown women do, put knots in them. But as I
walked into the gymnasium, the stockings fell to my ankles.
I never forgot the embarrassing moment. Although
it seems quite funny today, it was quite a disaster back then.
Dear Editor
David J Walker
Dear editor
How is it that you will
Make my thoughts better
Rearranging words and
Changing cadence
At your leisure
The poetry that constantly
Parades between my retina and
Cranium
One pass wonders that I must
Describe going by as if jugglers in
A gymnasium
That might drop the balls
But always catch them before
Any fall to the floor
Of your cutting board
Dear editor
Maybe you can make it better
But for now
Go away and leave me alone
Near the end of October, a gelid wind blew
and froze the corollas of the dainty daisies;
it came as a surprise, sad was the face of Matthew,
no baseball in the field that echoed with screams!
Arthur, the coach, who used to chew gum and eat chips
sat inside his office checking out the unpredictable weather,
nothing promised a break in the clouds, so he bit his lips;
Lydia's eyes were sad and teary, she was the cheerleader!
The young players decided to play basketball in the Gymnasium,
they didn't really miss the baseball game as much as Tim did
who sat in a remote corner and seemed to experience Librium;
a bunch of kids rushed in not sure for which team they would bid!
As winter bent trees and stripped flowers from all gardens,
inside everybody was having fun cheering for their team;
all the doors were locked and a stranded dog emitted barks,
Cindy came out and let him in as he huffed at Joachim!
Birds Drop In With Questions
(Birds Don’t Catch Falling People)
Fly high on the happy open sky little ones
Sometimes birds collide with jets in flight
Humans have the right of way in aerospace
Why is there so much traffic?
Passengers like to step outside for fresh air
Sometimes they forget their parachutes
To confine people in small places is wrong
What ever happened to imagination?
Birds wonder why people don’t eat more bugs and seeds
How do they fly without feathers and wings?
Colliding with birdies is the least of their problems
Birds don’t catch falling people all the time
In fact never if you don’t mind
Don’t worry about our friends in free fall
They think about religion and politics going down
And how to lose weight at the gymnasium
And make a loud thud upon landing
We chant bubble gum bubble gum
As our jump rope hits the pavement.
Our time has come
Jerome
To join the tournament.
We chant bubble gum Bubble gum
Our session will be done in the gymnasium.
This will be a group accomplishment.
Our time has come.
I know this seems to some like we aren't
Adventuresome,
But think about the people who will register
Astonishment.
We chant bubble gum Bubble gum
We have the fanciest foot dance to bring
About a trophy of gold or platinum.
Believe me our time was well spent.
Our time has come
Whether we win or lose our names will be
Placed in the auditorium and jumping rope
Will be added to the P.E. curriculum.
Thank you one and all for we are the recipient
Of a gold trophy which shows our group was
Magnificent.
We chant bubble gum bubble gum
Our time has come.
In the shining of the stars,
I see you,
around their pulsating halos,
you're there,
running free as a fawn in new snow,
fast and light as a fairy who glides on a water lily,
I visit you when the sun goes away,
to the other side
of the living globe,
I join you for a slice of a second,
a joyous reunion of souls,
til you evaporate,
and merge once more
into your stardust gymnasium.
We are all but dancers
In the rhythm of life
While some seem to dance it perfectly
Some can't get the steps down right
Don't let that stop you from dancing
We each have our own heartbeat
Whether or not you are sure footed
Or if you were born with two left feet
Though we often feel that life can be
A large gymnasium at times
Waiting for someone to dance with us
As we sit on the side
Instead of waiting to be asked to dance
Like so many often do
Where ever it is you are right now
You can dance just for you
Perhaps a ballerina floating gracefully
Across life's massive stage
Giving your own rendition
To the beauty of swan lake
Or dancing to the river
Perhaps something in modern style
Whatever dance it is you deliver
How ever far it is the mile
Dance like there's no tomorrow
To your very own rhythm
For no one else can dance like you
The dance that you've been given
Mystic marrow tells the time but an ashtray rarely ponders. Hard to receive constant delivery of smoked ash and waste. Wish not a coat filled to the brim with gym shoes then? Well that simply will not do. One must be attired appropriately for all weathers and all seasons and a car seat is mot a gymnasium nor a sports hall so never ever think that it is for something like a sponge could find out who would then inform the tea cloth who would then inform the rising moon and tides and so on and on and on and on and on. Like a gigantism of rotating square cooking devices with little beady eyes. Sealed sealant searching sails. And an archetypical archaic ant arriving with a broom and buttoned tunic plus a feathered hat sparkling. Wow. Walk a waltz then. Good. On bridges. Rope bridges only. Z Nebuchadnezzar Z at ten baboons cooking on camping stones to nineteen pig trotters typing on a screen. Z xxxxx and always wipe bottoms of pans with a dirty sock from the washing machine.
Mystic marrow tells the time but an ashtray rarely ponders. Hard to receive constant delivery of smoked ash and waste. Wish not a coat filled to the brim with gym shoes then? Well that simply will not do. One must be attired appropriately for all weathers and all seasons and a car seat is mot a gymnasium nor a sports hall so never ever think that it is for something like a sponge could find out who would then inform the tea cloth who would then inform the rising moon and tides and so on and on and on and on and on. Like a gigantism of rotating square cooking devices with little beady eyes. Sealed sealant searching sails. And an archetypical archaic ant arriving with a broom and buttoned tunic plus a feathered hat sparkling. Wow. Walk a waltz then. Good. On bridges. Rope bridges only. Z Nebuchadnezzar Z at ten baboons cooking on camping stones to nineteen pig trotters typing on a screen. Z xxxxx and always wipe bottoms of pans with a dirty sock from the washing machine.
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