Long Dormitory Poems
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Rosemary's Bed
Maylands Salvation Army, Girls' Home
I am in the entrance foyer of a large house.
The wood floor is highly polished.
There is a large stairway with a turned, wood bannister.
Dad is telling my three year old sister and me
that we must stay here because
he has to work and can't take care of us.
Mum has gone away somewhere.
THE MATRON takes our suitcases and *smiles* at us
instructs us to, "come with her".
Dad says, "he will come and visit us every Sunday".
I am taken to a dormitory and told which bed will be mine.
The bed on the other side of the fire place
belongs to Rosemary.
Our beds skirt, either side of a fireplace
that is midway along the wall, with rows
of beds on each side of it,
as well as opposite,
twenty beds in all.
At the end of the room is an alcove with a curved bay window.
There is a bed there, all by itself.
I can remember being so scared in this room.
The older girls told me, "there is a man with an elastic arm"
who lives on the roof
and, "he can reach down the chimney and grab you".
Although I didn't really believe it, a few nights later,
we were all woken by a piercing scream.
THE MATRON came down to investigate.
The girl who slept in the bay window bed, said,
" a man with a monkey's face" jumped on my bed.
THE MATRON searched everywhere inside and out -
we saw her flash light beam- out there in the darkness-
her report was, " it was nothing." -
probably one of the cats that lived in the wood pile.
I always had trouble sleeping after that
and after lights out -
although it was strictly forbidden -
I would creep across and climb
into Rosemary's bed.
Although her bed was an equal distance
from the fireplace as mine
the human warmth and contact made me feel safe
against unknown forces of the night.
I slept on the edge of nightmares until, finally
I left that place.
Suzanne Delaney
From- Rememberances of an 8 year Old.
For Frank H..... I recall.....Contest
"In my distress I called upon the LORD, and cried unto my God: he heard my voice out of his temple, and my cry came before him, even into his ears." Psalm 18:6 of the King James Bible
Separation angst:
such I loathe to grip me
having experienced it since childhood
yet due to innocence
my mind could not fathom its lamentable reality…
I dreaded Mom’s departure from my presence
yes, even the thought of such left me feeling destitute
thus, whenever she would announce going somewhere
torturous separation-despair afflicted me so much
vexing my soul toward restlessness…
Then in my freshman year in College
never could I forget my heart-wrenching struggle
when Mom brought me to a dormitory
serving as a new home away from family and her care
oh, that indeed engulfed me with awful homesickness…
The greatest blow of separation-distress hit my being
making me agonize painfully in grief…
as Mom’s last breath set me apart from her person
never to be caressed by her pampering touch
and uplifted with music only she can croon...
I thank God for making me move on
with Mom’s sweet memories
enabling me overcome ache of separation
while savoring the joy of her inspiring triumph
knowing that we’ll soon be reunited forever
since resurrection is inevitable according to the Scriptures.
April 25, 2021
2nd place, "Writing Prompt - Ache" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 4/26/2021.
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.
These are photographs of my village
Taken over a hundred years ago
The streets look just the same
As those I used to know
When Fifty or more years later
That village was my family home
And i wandered them as a child
With streets and fields to roam.
They show a part of my family
Each stood by their front door
On the little row of cottages
That isn’t there any more.
Condemned, demolished, erased,
New dwelling replacing the old
Some not yet quite finished
But each one already sold.
Large, desirable modern residences
Where once workers’ homes had stood
The village of my childhood changed
But not necessarily for the good.
None of those posing for photographers
Could afford to live here these days
Once working village dormitories now
As they have adjusted to modern ways.
One farm worker can do the work of ten
So you don’t need the labourer in the field
And modern mobility means most villages
Are full of commuters or the retired well heeled.
The orchards, allotments, garden meadows
That lined nearly every road and street
Have identikit brick dwellings built on
Grass destroying foundation concrete .
Sometimes, unrecognised, i visit my past
Still enough unchanged to make it hard
To accept these days my family presence
Is restricted to graves in the old churchyard.
Maybe it’s my imagination at work
But it seems to me a peculiar thing
As i wander those known streets again
I no longer hear so many birds sing.
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
The Living Dream
It began with a Chinese jeep selling cheaply
I told Elon Musk not to get me, Tesla
But he didn't answer my message
I went to bed early, forgoing my usual
Two glasses of red wine
I had a stern warning from my brother's
Youngest, if I were addicted to wine
I could buy tablets at the pharmacy
Polite as I am, I didn't tell him to off
At 87, I do as I please.
What can one say
of a man who spends the best years
of his life, going from cafe to cafe eating
a vast amount of cream cakes.
Suddenly I was a ladies' man, sired
12 children and died at 104, at
last a folk hero
Later, Elon Musk knocked on my door
Someone had broken into his bank
He had his money stolen, and he likes to sit
in the evenings
counting, one million, two million, three
It took eighteen trucks
Since he was always kind enough to let
I publish poems on his X
and ensuring I had five readers a week
I let him sleep on the sofa in the living room
Told me people were out to kill him and
Trump, Trump, I could understand, but Elon!
More knocking on the door, in the hall
8 of Elon's bodyguards, he hadn't paid them
They could not be loyal without money
Elon got up from the sofa and promised to pay
them on Monday, with that, the men in
Dark suits and sunglasses were left
Behind by Elon
With them, he wore an ill-fitting T-shirt
making him look working class
Elon told me that Netanyho had fled
In Israel, people had found him a criminal
I found that less than likely
He was hiding in the basement of the
new ballroom, at the West Wing in
the White House
To save money, Trump had used migrant
untrained workers, the floor collapsed
And that was the end of Netanyho
Free from his nightmare, Trump became
mild-mannered caring for all Americans
His new manners were disliked by Elon, who
saw in Trump a fellow humorist they liked
to tell each other dormitory jokes
Then it was 8 in the morning, time to get up
Apology to the missus at nighttime...
first day of January
two thousand and twenty three.
While the wife then in the process
of leaving a telephone message
for our eldest daughter,
(on vacation, thus unreachable)
her cajoling tone of voice
beckoned, intimated, and _underscored
curiosity to discover
how romance blossomed
between first born
and soulmate of offspring
while both progeny and
Puerto Rican young man
both freshmen in the same dormitory
at University of Pennsylvania.
I unthinkingly blurted out
thy spouse acting nosy
triggering cascading denial
of marital transgressions
(quite brutish and nasty of me)
scoring invisible black barbs
upon tender flesh
seriously contemplating divorce
to implement bartered bride
blithely cavorting with bonnie lass
abandoning desirability, eternity, fidelity...
adopting following motto de jure
gather ye rosebuds while ye may.
How innocuous for spouse clamoring
to get low down how biological daughter
came upon midnight clear
acquainting, befriending, cohabiting...
eventual future linkedin lucky man
at least once upon a poem ago
aforementioned perfect match
(like two peas in a pod).
Seconds after the rather
sarcastic word (nosy) uttered
yours truly wished he never blurted
underhanded stinging rebuke.
Whether twas love toward the spouse
who approximately twenty seven years prior
yours truly pledged troth and vowed
to uphold sanctified covenant,
when me late father in law
escorted his "baby"
down the wedding aisle.
Nevertheless I blurted out
acid tinged comment
(as iterated above)
generated an after effect
recounting me being unfaithful husband
suddenly nauseous surge
induced gag reflex
synonymously tasting like bile
no amount of washing mouth out with dial
could affect comparable retraction
wanting to turn back hands of time
best recourse would necessitate
severing ties with humanity
and accepting nothing short of exile
(for questing, trespassing, violating...
acquiescence toward verboten fruit)
walking barefoot over hot coals
every last desolate mile
despite exhibiting weariness
qua swiftly tailored harried style
years later still experiencing
gruelling emotional trial.
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
All you have to do is swoop down in front of a grade school, grab up a kindergarten student, and fly off.
This will strike terror in everyone, my commander told me. He laughed at my surprised look.
It is Halloween, he told me. You can drop the child in a soft pile of hay or something.
Did you get your assignment? My mother asked. Yes, I say, and it beats dormitory nest cleanings.
Maybe it is a test my bunkmate cautioned me, as I confided in him, my qualms about it and everything.
Maybe if you do it, you will get recycled and have to re-start your entire training, he adds.
I get a follow up call at noon. Here is the name of the grade school, my commander tells me. Be there by three.
I am high in the sky when I see the little ones running out of the school toward mamas and papas in cars, and nasty-looking school bus drivers.
Some of these people look pretty intense. Those bus drivers might be armed. I have heard of this.
Hey, there is a little one the devil inside me says. She has broken off from the line, she might be easy to grab.
Pretty soon I am sitting on a high perch, looking at an empty school yard, a complete failure.
Mission incomplete.
Waiting to be recycled.
The call does not come.
I do not get a recommendation or a medal
I received my Eagle flying lesson completion mission yesterday.
Apparently as a final test, I was supposed to argue with a superior officer.
He gave me two chances, remember? Once in person, and once on the phone.
I was too scared to do it though.
If you have served, you will understand.
Dread of separation anxiety
Anguish I felt with certainty
Yet due to childhood’s knowledge-obscurity
I could not fathom its reality.
Such awful feeling I experienced when my mother left me for a while
Not that she would go afar; not even a mile
During my first encounter as a learning juvenile
In a kindergarten class, of “no parents allowed inside” style.
I indeed had secured confidence in my mother’s presence
God’s love I delighted in through her care’s iridescence
So when she announced midst long silence about her would-be absence
Torturous separation-despair gripped my innocence.
The Lord be praised for His wondrous plan for my family
Since Mother refused to work abroad and stayed with us decisively…
…My days would have been miserable terribly…
…Without her --- I knew that undeniably.
Then Mother accompanied me to the University-dormitory
Which would be my home – away from relatives’ territory
Parting from Mom made me weary of homesickness-worry
But God’s grace upheld me, healing 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.
God’s mercy enabled me to move on, along her sweet memories that prevail
I’ll forget her never, and on this Mother’s Day – of her legacy I myself avail.
By faith, I’ll soon see Mom, for death’s temporal might will surely fail
We’ll be reunited; and together, we’ll praise God and His name forever hail!
*Psalm 71:21 Thou (LORD) shalt increase my greatness, and comfort me on every side.
Narrative in rhyme along dramatic monologue form.
May 8, 2018
Somehow nostalgic to me reverberating "Last song for my resting place"
10th place, "Black Country Communion" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 7/23/2023