Long Gymnasium Poems
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I
Hear the bouncing of the balls--
Basketballs!
What a sound of merriment they cause when each ball falls!
How they echo, echo, echo,
Inside the gymnasium walls,
Arriving at a crescendo
While the spectators shout “Bravo!”
Drowning the referee’s calls;
And the players start
To make their last dart
Amidst the reverberation ricocheting off the stalls
From the balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
From the bouncing and the dribbling of the balls.
II
Hear the ticking of the balls,
Ping-pong balls!
What a soft and easy sound comes from their bounce and rolls!
In the crowded room that’s bright
How they fill it with delight!
Like the ticking of a clock,
Steady but fast,
Or the picking of a lock,
What tune they make with their ceaseless tick-tock,
Until at last--
Oh, what a miss that appalls
The audience that has remained speechless in the halls
How it falls!
How it scrolls!
And the erring player rolls
His fists at his own pitfalls
By the swinging and his missing
To hit the balls, balls, balls
The balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
To hit the light and small and saffron ping-pong balls!
III
Hear the loud thud of the balls--
Volleyballs!
What feeling of suspense is caused by their great falls!
Across the nets stretched tight
How they gracefully take flight!
The watchers anticipating,
Who would win they keep waiting,
Breathlessly.
Until the umpire from his platform blows a long shrill whistle,
And the balls drop on the ground like useless heads of missile.
Then tempers start to bristle
In the air there is a rustle
From both player and spectator
To win the set or never
Hold the trophy covetously.
Oh, the balls, balls, balls--
"Pick them up!" the umpire bawls.
Once again
The balls are hit, tossed, and passed
And the game goes on full blast
While the players on each side dare not complain
Yet the audience fully knows
By the spiking
And the digging
How the game would sooner close.
Who would be covered in palls
Suffer beating,
‘Cause of losing,
And forced to receive catcalls
For dismally failing to score and keep afloat the balls,
The volleyballs--
The volleyballs, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
In the scrambling and the spiking of the balls!
March 18, 2023
The Teacher boomed "Girls Curtsy" now "Boys Bow".
"Learn your Etiquette, Ladies first Gentlemen".
"We do not run we are not a herd of cattle, Now single file !"
"You Mr Smith will hold the door !, Thank you sir"
We filed threw the door unlike cattle as best we could.
Young Mr Smith falling promptly into the end of the line.
The girls giggled at us boys, as it seemed we were most in need of discipline.
And now to add to our disgrace we must, I must, keep from becoming violently ill.
For today we will learn to dance with Girls !
Behold the Gymnasium, the fetid hall of Torture, First Dodge-ball and now this Humiliation. Under the glaring lights of the Gymnasium devilish eyes gleamed across the way as they separated boys from girls.Damn their souls !, Begone ye pony-tailed and frilly spawns of Satan !
If only a deathly rain of frogs would find this an opportune moment to appear.
With their Ghastly shrills they would scatter to the winds like dandelion seeds !
But protected they were, the roof held steady and appeared it would for quite sometime.
They then paired us off, boy-girl, boy-girl, no chance to protest it was done.
I stood there holding her hand, staring at the back of her curly red hair.
She turned and smiled then shrugged, looking away so I would not turn to stone.
The Teacher sneered with fiendish delight and clapped her hands "Now Begin !"
Music filled the air and the frilly beast grabbed my other hand and pulled me towards her."Step-Step-Step-Left-Step-Step and Right, Boys pay attention !"
Slightly above the music I could hear groans from my fellow tortured souls.
We drug our feet desperately hoping for a Fire drill, The A-bomb, anything to end this nightmare ! The clock ticked slowly away and finally it came to an end, Death did not come we lived on.
The Redheaded Demoness turned to me "You did good" she said, and walked away to rejoin the giggling herd. Several days later a note appeared tapping on my shoulder, from the (Redheaded Demoness) "I like you do you like me Y/N" it read. It was over for me, my journey through the light had come to an end and into the darkness I fell as I pressed down with my #2 Pencil and circled (Y).
You're smiling ...
I'm staring at you
I know you know that I know
That you like me ... that you REALLY like me
Wendy told me, and Linda told her
(After I had Dave ask Debbie to ask Linda)
So it might as well have been you directly ... yeah
I also know that you know that this is my favorite slow-dance
I made sure Dave hinted to Debbie that she tell Linda
'Cause Wendy had said that Linda told her it was YOUR favorite song
Well, your favorite slow-dance song
We have the same favorite fast song, too, "Ain't No Mountain"
But "(They Long To Be) Close To You" is finally playing
And when it started, you spun to find me across the gymnasium
(I was watching - Wendy told me that Linda told her to make sure I watch you)
Then you smiled, and I smiled, and now I KNOW we are true and steady
I KNOW it's time to make my move ...
The lights are low, mirror ball spinning
Sawdust has been spread on the gym floor
I've got my paisley shirt on, apache around my neck
Best bell-bottoms, big-buckle belt and boots
And enough Hai Karate cologne to seduce an elephant
But ... but ... but, my feet aren't moving!!
What's wrong?!?
I've planned this for weeks, and now I'm frozen ...
It's my braces ... Debbie told EVERYone that she cut her lip on them
Now I'm terrified that you might turn me down ... cuz of that
'Cuz last year Linda broke up with Dave just because he GOT braces
She never even kissed him with braces, but broke up with him ...
Just from the FEAR of cutting her lip!
('Course Dave is a power kisser, everybody knows that)
Still, I KNOW you like me ... and you ARE smiling ...
It's now or never, cuz the Carpenter's won't play forever
I feel a hand in my back - Dave, pushing me
Toward you ... across the floor
Braces be DAMNED - I'm making my move!
The night is OURS, Baby
And it's a groovy thing happening!
Yeah ...
"Why do stars ... fall down from the sky ... "
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Now It's Our Turn - DWM" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Judge & Sponsor.
in high school there was this kid who had some kind of
heart problem,
he had a horrible scar where work had been done at an earlier age &
he had a story to tell if you wanted to hear it---
like so many kids who had more on their plate than they wanted to handle,
what with going through puberty & being stomped on daily by
parents, school & the surrounding authority figures that make it a place to
make themselves known,
well, most didn’t have the time---
but she, whose plate wasn’t as full as others,
because she was drop dead gorgeous,
rich, smart & destined for greatness
(as far as society was concerned),
was looking for some pain to feel,
because quite frankly, she felt little
during her teenage years.
those years when the body itself seems to be rebelling against you,
she was in perfect shape &
with perfect grades & popularity,
she needed to know what it was like to
hurt---
she felt left out by all of her classmates
whose lives were just plain
****ed up already & so,
she listened to the boy’s story.
she never had lunch with the kid
never called him on the phone
never went out with him outside of school
never gave him a ******** &
never acknowledged his presence when she was walking with her
clique,
but the day that he dropped dead on the gymnasium floor,
as a result of whatever was wrong with his heart,
she cried & cried & cried.
days & weeks later,
like some bad b-drama that you find on Lifetime,
she acted as if they had been the best of pals &
when people mentioned his death in passing
she corrected them if he didn’t say his name right or
when they made fun of him, even despite his death,
she got angry at them &
after a month had passed,
and she was right back in bed with the hottest guy the school could muster,
she still felt bad,
but she tried to block it out with her multiple orgasms &
the pot they smoked afterward.
she always said that she’d try anything once &
that pain brought on by the dead kid was something that she definitely did not want to
form a habit with.
Take a look my Love
do you see how the diamonds of our dreams
are burning so brightly and violently
silhouetting the lips of our wishes against the walls of ancient Latin gold
in the sacred villa of Love's Kingdom where there is no escape
where rescue is unwanted,
where we survive and grow stronger in the gymnasium of passion's glory
did you notice that above the rose vine gateway
the phrase Sancta Simplicitas is carved deeply into the black and white marble,
do you feel the crimson love stress within your throat,
do you taste your soul's intestinal fortitude
surfacing on your spiked tongue
as we wrestle eachother ruthlessly, like champions that die in defeat,
moral armbars, clean elbow strikes to the jaw of flippancy,
pressure point pinches to the arteries of our inhibitions,
intellectual left and right hooks landing on the cheeks of our wisdom,
poetic hip throws to the mat of hard lust
defiant choke holds of love, flawless in tight execution
penetrating the blood brain barrier with the ecstasy of warrior fervor,
and as we lay sweatied and spent on the ground of this rough enlightenment
we look at eachother admiringly and realize like young romance
that we live for a single, shared purpose
to teach love what love means,
If they ever say diamonds to diamonds, dust to dust
they'll be speaking in bereavement of our beauty and bravery, of our best,
and I won't allow that,
as I know damn well
that you will not tolerate such misgivings either my Love,
instead,
we shall build a war machine of divine desire
that will destroy the proven walls of conventional psychology
erect a fortress of love that can withstand total despair,
and they will know the strength of our diamond love
as it guides the lost and lonely
through chaotic oceans of heart hysteria as with us,
no one will ever say our love died,
because we fought for it to live my Love -
Sancta Simplicitas is an ancient Latin phrase meaning...Holy Simplicity...
J.A.B.
Mitigating migrating mermaids mingle marvellously. But only after consuming an oyster. Oysters can be quite operatic and operas are neither optical illusions nor organised instruments either. It is within the waves that patterns form. Darting to a mn fro. Discovering depths. Creatures yet unseen whisper to waters and sailors chant and clap several times to catch fish and avoid bad weather. The force of a tepid whiskered whale is held in high regard by a limpet. It is within a ball of nautical booms that a book is born but books made of bread should only be served in oceanside cafés and skinny waitresses in shell costumes could serve the wares from sandy plates with hair akin to seaweed dried in the sun. How rather amazing the plumage of a plummeting plum formation. Isnt that astounding really? For a dishwasher could be rather dishonest whilst all the commotion was occurring from clam tables and therefore lose the cutlery. Oh no and an oompa oompa noise means the knives have halved and dived into the perilous back of the drainage system. Must rest then the test must surely be adhered to. Like perhaps the placing of glue before washing? Yes. That would be it. Key to involving a mighty whoosh from a water machine that delivers much fresh to a stale stagnation. Static vapours only really occur when the moon is round and not triangular. Ha the curds are arriving just look at their hands painted in rainbow italics. Ha the covers of the shops are radiating a luminous glow today with ten flowers laughing from the roofs. Grafted grinding grinning crinkled paper basket in a bow tie and a trilby hat. How rather cute! And a stained weather map is a target for an ambient ship parade. Xxxxx observational z z z z z at thirty overweight groaning sticklebacks to sixteen maggots in a gymnasium z z z z z z must take to the pickle cloud a s a p. Z
Form:
In the little town called Cleveland
Some many years ago
In a high school gymnasium
Met a group of girls and boys
Since early in their childhood
They were plagued by many peers
Because they lacked
The perfect look
Like many other kids
After many years of torture
Constant badgering from everyone
They decided was time to take a stand
Claiming freedom once again
The group contained the branded
The freaky geeky boys
The girls slightly on the heavy side
A few all rolled in one
They called their club the meeting
Of freaky boys and busty girls
Requirement was be outcast
From the preps the jocks “the toys”
They arranged a simple protest
Simple protest most fun
To prove that being different
Is not so bad and can be fun
They stripped down to nothing
But a smile on every face
And marched the halls of Cleveland High
In unison they did say
Though we may all look different
Inside we’re all the same
So accept us if you will or not
We’re happy just the same
The faculty at the school that day
We outraged by what they saw
Forty teenage girls and boys
Marching naked down the hall
Parents quickly contacted
Expulsion all around
For the kids labeled freaks and geeks
Their victory it was found
Though the protest was very different
The idea quite deranged
Respect was granted on that day
For the group with guts to say
Being different is not so different
Can be cool they all proclaimed
For the geeky boys and busty girls
We’re proud for each that day
The moral of this story
Though odd but very true
Though outside one looks different
Inside the pages read so true
Looks aren’t that important
But the hearts all beat the same
We are all just like
The kids
From Cleveland high that day
In the little town called Cleveland
Some many years ago
In a high school gymnasium
Met a group of girls and boys
Since early in their childhood
They were plagued by many peers
Because they lacked
The perfect look
Like many other kids
After many years of torture
Constant badgering from everyone
They decided was time to take a stand
Claiming freedom once again
The group contained the branded
The freaky geeky boys
The girls slightly on the heavy side
A few all rolled in one
They called their club the meeting
Of freaky boys and busty girls
Requirement was be outcast
From the preps the jocks “the toys”
They arranged a simple protest
Simple protest most fun
To prove that being different
Is not so bad and can be fun
They stripped down to nothing
But a smile on every face
And marched the halls of Cleveland High
In unison they did say
Though we may all look different
Inside we’re all the same
So accept us if you will or not
We’re happy just the same
The faculty at the school that day
We outraged by what they saw
Forty teenage girls and boys
Marching naked down the hall
Parents quickly contacted
Expulsion all around
For the kids labeled freaks and geeks
Their victory it was found
Though the protest was very different
The idea quite deranged
Respect was granted on that day
For the group with guts to say
Being different is not so different
Can be cool they all proclaimed
For the geeky boys and busty girls
Were proud for each that day
The moral of this story
Though odd but very true
Though outside one looks different
Inside the pages read so true
Looks aren’t that important
But the hearts all beat the same
We are all just like
The kids
From Cleveland high that day
Apparitions of buried memories exhumed with rash eulogies
Arouse dried up tears that ever fail to cleanse the robe of guilt
Arraigning again before the partial jury of tormenting thoughts
Kaleidoscopic filial relationships hypnotize the mind to dumbness
Kamikaze images on ethereal screen longingly beckoning for a role
Kedging the ship of life’s voyage with sorrowful tugs to damnation
Intentions misjudged rivet spiteful labels reflected by wicked eyes
Impaling arrows of hate perforate the spirit to seep out its essence
Invitation to invasion by dark fiends to fetter the mind’s fragile walls
Neglected on shore as brothers and sisters sail out with patron’s hearse
Neighbors cut out their flesh of revenge measuring with unjust scales
Neutral judges acquiesce with stolid silence as the gavel of authority
Black skin refuses to be cajoled by those richly perfumed emollients
Bronzing came by nature’s quirk and glistening the sweat of its kiln
Brawn cultivated in the gymnasium of hard labor threads the body
Anodynes are moments of laughter with friends that rob sorrow of joy
Allayed fears sucked into the chasm of oblivion by a vortex of pleasure
Annoyance a rare display on a platform erected on the base of candor
Mistakes of the past hurled as fiery pebbles of insult across continents
Mark with contorting bruises turning the face into an offensive mask
Maturity date for restoration of loaned out bond suspended on a caveat
Intermittent pulses race to recesses of cranial bank to withdraw memories
Intractable dramas staged to the roars of disgust banished with entreaties
Internalized are kernels of the fruit of life eaten hurriedly in ignorance
Emeka Akpe
Bodyweight !.. I constantly gain..
Diet Regime ..gone in vain...
My body- totally out of shape..
Gymnasium is a total waste!
Huge shoes and clothes size-jumbo,
They tease me"Fatty Little Bumbo".
They say I'm fat and call me a ball,
Or they say I am huge wall.
Elephant, Hippo , they call me animal names,
All these words put me to total shame..
Hydrogen balloon , I am to some,
Hurting comments..yet I keep mum..
With tears rolling down my chubby cheeks..
Lonely and dejected I sit on the beach..
"Yes I'm Fat!", I scream aloud..
"Yet I'm happy and very proud!"
Confidence rises with my self esteem,
Happy and joyful, now I seem,
To all hurting comments, with a "Thank you" I smile
Leaving commenters surprised for a while..
Slowly though, one day they ask..
"Don't you feel like taking us to task ?"
"We hurt you and call out names to you..
And you only respond with a polite Thank you?"
To Them I say "Yes!, I'm fat..
So you tell me how to solve that ?
All diet and efforts have gone in vain..
Does that mean I live in shame ?"
"Comments from you , the beautiful!
Are compliments for me -the ugly fat Bull!"
My words make them feel terrible..
For ridiculing me they feel miserable..
Soon, towards me their attitudes change..
"Lady!! You are very beautiful! " together they claim
"Your inner beauty triumphs over our appearance..
Fat is Ugly..is our wrong inference.."
"Ultimate beauty !..is the beauty within...
That matters more..than being thin.".
Then they say "You are a gorgeous little beauty"..
And I wink" A gorgeous little fatty"!!