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My poem to First New

A word of explanation:
     My senior year, I was the RA on First Floor Shen.  I knew my floor would be primarily freshmen, so I wanted to make sure we had a sister floor lined up before everyone got there.  That way, we could plan some fun and interesting activities with them right away, because - to be frank - I figured it'd be easier to convince new guys to do something if some nice ladies were involved.  So I picked one of my favorite female RAs to ask (Amy Gingrich), sat down at my desk, and wrote this poem, which I sent to her mailbox written on a rolled-up scroll.  It worked out great; the results included a few game nights, Christmas cards, a dinner we cooked and served them, more than a few serenades from each side, and (in perhaps the greatest success of my Residence Life career) a sizable portion of my guys, in the East Hall Parlor, in front of nearly one hundred spectators, performing a phenomenal dance routine to "It's Raining Men."  This, my friends, is what started it all.

 

Pray thee, madam, 
hearken nigh, 
one simple query sendeth I. 

My floor,
the first, 
near thirty strong, 
with talent deep, 
and wide, 
and long, 
whose lips e'er part in sweetest songs, 
who all excel at Donkey Kong, 
and ne'er behave like Cheech, 
or Chong, 
apologizing when they're wrong, 
still one thing lack ---

not books, TVs, or sticky tack, 
not paper white nor markers black, 
not Duracells or Rayovacs, 
not crack. 

What these men seek, 
their sole request, 
as hope springs ever in their breasts, 
(and in their knees, big toes, and cheeks), 
is for a floor, 
one nice and sweet, 
to meet, 
to greet, 
perchance to eat (with), 
a stellar floor that can't be beat (with) 
sticks, or rods, or frozen meat 
(not veal, beef, or poultry). 

A floor of sisters, to befriend, 
to whom we many gifts could send, 
for whom our re-spect ne'er would end, 
who might some isolation rend.

If thou and thine couldst be thus, 
we beg of thee, inform us. 
We thank thee for thy time, 
and patience with our rhyme.

To thy bidding we attend, 
First Shen

 

©2002 Steve Maxon