The Field

The Field

A calm, moonlit night
A giant field with no one for miles
We run to the middle
Lie in the grass
Side by side
Look up at the stars
There are more than I thought.
Damned city hides them with its light
We smile at on another
I bite my lip
Wondering what you feel
Hoping it's what I feel
You hold my hand
I shift my body closer to yours
The sky is clear
The moon is full
I lay my head on your chest
You and I in silence
The night is young
I rise to my feet
You follow
And take my hand
We dance like lovers
To the music of the night.

(January 20, 1998)

Distraction

Distraction

As I dip my foot in the paint
And streak the canvas with my big toe,
I see you.
You touch my shoulder
Sending a thrill throughout my body
I continue to create with my feet
You kiss my throat
I wonder how long this will take
My feet are soiled with hues of blue and red
You don't seem to care
And your lips touch mine
My feet cease for the moment
Let me finish my art.
As I resume painting
You continue osculating my shoulders and back
You just can't stop
I've never done this before
This is an experiment I've been longing to try
Finally it is complete.
You lift me off the floor and carry me,
So as not to dirty the carpet,
To where I'll wash away the colors
And restore my toes to their original state
But kissing me is still on your mind
And when you set me on the tub's edge
I am surprised to find your mouth on mine
I close my eyes and realize
I could get used to this.

(January 20, 1998)

I would say this poem is more about how sexual desires get in the way of doing the things you really want to do rather than giving in.  She makes her lover wait until her piece is finished.  The line "This is an experiment I've been longing to try" refers to her art work, not the make out session.  Love can be a distraction and we have to figure out how to balance both in our lives.

Starburst

The instructions for this writing exercise say, "Take a really busy walk or ride."  And I may have written this after watching Face/Off.  Not really sure, but I think the second to last line comes from that movie.

Starburst

Get ready
John Travolta's come back.
Post-modern architecture might be nice
If you like looking at that sort of thing.
My belly itches
But at least they keep the streets clean.
As I pull my window shut,
I see my reflection and glare.
Ain't love grand?
You people are pretty quick.
My underwear is riding
And soon I'll hear,
"Bite me, you fruity-looking geek."
I actually understand the game now:
Just replace the ball boy
With an over caffeinated monkey.
But I'm still having fun,
Like a starburst.
For everything else there's
A drunk Marlin Brandol guessing your weight.
It's very important to remember that.
There's nothing like having your
Face cut off in the middle of your sleep.
And the party never ends.

(January 15, 1998)

The Wink

The Wink

He winked at me
But I can't believe he meant anything by it
So don't get all excited
Don't get all worked up
Sure he's the most gorgeous guy you've ever seen
But it doesn't mean a thing
He's probably the biggest player you'll ever know
Just say, "Hello.."
Yes, he just wants to say, "Hello."
So go introduce yourself
There's nothing wrong with being friends.

(January 15, 1998)

enjoy

This next poem is a writing exercise for my Intro to Creative Writing class.  I'm not exactly sure what the assignment was, but from what I can gather, I was supposed to take a poem (or a song) and create my own version of it.  I chose Bjork's Enjoy.

Here is the original by Bjork:

enjoy

I wish:  I want to stay here
I wish:  this is enough
I wish:  I only love you
I wish:  simplicity

look at the speed out there
it magnetizes me to it
and I have no fear
I'm only in this to

enjoy

I wish I'd only look
and didn't want to touch
I wish I'd only smell this
and didn't have to taste

how can I ignore?
this is sex without touching
I'm going to explode
I'm only in this to

enjoy

And now my version:

enjoy

I know:  I want to stay here
I know:  it's not enough
I know:  I only love you
I know: simplicity

look at the love out there
it makes me desire you more
still I hide my fear
I'm not only in this to

enjoy

I wish I didn't just look
and had courage to touch
I wish I didn't just smell this
and had courage to taste

What do I ignore?
What is sex without touching?
I'm afraid to explore
I'm not only in this to

enjoy

(January 13, 1998)

I'm really not sure what the assignment was and I think it is waaaay too close to the original.  But my professor said she liked it.

The War

The War

After the snowfall,
All is quiet.
The only sound is
Snow crunching under my feet
The wintry white land strikes
Awe and wonder into my sight
And I enjoy the solitude.

Until splat!
I discover I am not alone
A powdery ball of snow has
Struck my cheek
I quickly turn to learn
Who the culprit of such a cruel
Act of terrorism happens to be.

Seeing him, swiftly, I bend down
Grabbing at the soft, white floor.
I pick up a handful, mold it
And catapult the ball through the air

Ha! Ha!
A perfect, direct hit!
I slyly smile
A smile is returned
The war has begun

Laughter shatters the silence
Arms hurl snow furiously
The two of us
Advancing upon one another

Until crash!
I am forced down
Into the snow
And, as I fall,
I take him with me

White-washing commences
And the laughter continues
Until, exhausted we run out of breath
The war is over
But the laughter remains.

(January 13, 1998)

My professor suggested I remove that last stanza.  She wrote, "Nice!  Consider what would happen if you ended here - that line 'I take him with me' is very nuanced, but it gets pushed aside by the last stanza."  I like what it does to end it there, but I also think perhaps it denotes something a little too romantic in nature going on and that was not the intent of this poem.  I do write a lot of romantic poetry.  I just love romance, but this time I wanted to keep the innocence.  Boys and girls can be just friends.  It's really sexist to think otherwise, actually.  What do you think?

Make-Up

Make-Up

It's not easy to get it just right
And it's harder to make it look good
Under bright lights.
Professionals know what they're doing
But when you're not getting paid,
When you're spilling your guts for free,
You do it yourself.
And your director better like how it's done
Because doing it over is really no fun.

(January 8, 1998)

Forget Him

Forget Him

What can I do?
What can I say?
My head says, "Forget him."
But my heart just won't let go.

I know I should
Trust in my instincts
They don't tell lies
But they say, "Follow your heart."

It isn't fair
Or is it?
All's fair in love and war
At least, that's what I'm told.

But what about me?
Everything they say is good
But it doesn't help me.
It doesn't feel like it.

(January 6, 1998)

What Matters

So I can't find much from 1997.  That was my Senior year of high school and I was in AP English.  I don't think we did much poetry writing.  But then I went to college in the fall of 1997.  Good times.  Most of this poetry is dated, but some isn't, and most of what is dated is dated 1998.  So by now I am 18, living on my own for the first time, and I loved it!  I had a poetry class, and so I started to write a lot of poetry and it was starting to evolve into stuff that really wasn't half bad.  But this next poem, isn't really one of those.  Ha ha!  It didn't have a date or a title, so I am going to call it:

What Matters

Look at her.

Is she lovely?  Is she beauty?

Look at her.

Every dream she's ever dreamed

Every hope she's ever hoped.

Smashed on the rocks of acquiescence.

All she ever truly wanted

Was to feel loved.

But nobody wanted to love her.

I suppose they found her to be

Unworthy of love.

But she deemed herself worthy.

And that's what matters...

Jenny the Rebel

So this poem is just dumb.  I'm not going to lie.  It's like I was trying to write a country song or something. And I hate country.   Well, not all of it, but please.  That's a whole entire blog post in and of itself and has no place here.  There was not title, but it needs one.  Let's call it:

Jenny the Rebel

There's a place in every young girl's heart
A place where only daddy can be.
This place can never be filled by anybody else.
This place is reserved only for he.

Daddy's loosing his little girl.
Daddy doesn't understand.
He wonders how he'll ever learn to let go.
But Daddy don't you know
Jenny still loves you so?

Jenny knows exactly what's happening.
Jenny knows of Daddy's jealousy.
But Jenny can't understand
And the contention builds higher.

Daddy's loosing his little girl.
Daddy doesn't understand.
He wonders how he'll ever learn to let go.
But Daddy don't you know
Jenny still loves you so?

Jenny is a rebel now.
She's never known this kind of life.
But Nick is her one true love
And she's not gonna give him up without a fight.

Daddy's loosing his little girl.
Daddy doesn't understand.
He wonders how he'll ever learn to let go.
But Daddy don't you know
Jenny still loves you so?

Come

Come

"Are you crazy?" You scream
Breaking the cool night air.
"Yes!" I cry and jump in the stream.
Come with me!
Come and finally care!

Swimming through the rocks and moss
I come up to breathe.
I turn to see you,
But the bank is empty.
Where are you now?

Your hand sneaks up from behind
And dunks my head under.
I come up laughing.
"Come on!" I call again.
And dive to swim.

You are swimming by my side.
You hold my hand tight.
Never let it go.
You look into my eyes.
And gently, we kiss.

(written in 1996)

How

Apparently, I didn't like the title of this one because it is crossed out, but never replaced with a new one.

How

How can you dream

When you know you can't sleep?

How can you sing

When you can't even speak?

How can you die

When you've never lived?

How can you think

When you're hooked to a machine?

How can you smile

When you've never seen a frown?

How can you cry

When you've never heard a laugh?

How can you read

When you don't know how to write?

(Written sometime in 1996)

Innocence

Sometimes, as I have read these poems, I wonder if they are finished.  I skipped over one that I knew wasn't, but this one I'm not sure about.

Innocence

Somewhere deep inside
I know I've got nothing to hide.
I know it's okay to let go
And to let my feelings show.

Someday I shall find
A new way to find peace of mind.
And when we listen we will hear
The music ringing so clear.

(Sometime in 1996)

Not This Time Around

Not This Time Around

You think you love me
But you're not sure.
You want to make it show
But I'm not ready.
"Will you ever?" you ask.
Maybe.  But not this time around.

You want to love me
To make it pure.
You think our love will grow.
My voice is steady.
"Don't you love me?" you ask.
Maybe.  But not this time around.

(I think it was 1996 when this one was written.)

Untitled or You're Wonderful

I'm calling this one "Untitled" because there is not title at the top of the page.  I'd probably call it "You're Wonderful" now, though.

Untitled

Why are you so insecure?
When you know exactly what you're worth?
When you could have any girl?
Why do you shrug and think it's a lie?
When you are so happy?
Why do you think you're just ugly?
You're so beautiful to me.
You're wonderful.

(Sometime in 1996 or 1997.  I'm just not sure any more!)

Grown Ups Are Stupid Because...

Sometimes when I am typing these up, I want to tweek things here and there and change the original poem.  I really wanted to change the word "untold" to "unknown" tonight, but I didn't.  I might change punctuation and make it more correct (hopefully), but I really am doing a very good job of resisting the temptation to change these poems and I am keeping them the way they were written at the time.

Grown Ups Are Stupid Because...

They make you take baths.
They make you go to bed at eight.
They make you clean your plate.
They never want to play.
They don't understand you when you cry.
They hate it when you ask why.
They always tell you what to do.
And when to do it.
They make you clean your room.
Even though you like it that way.
They always say, "I told you so!"
They can't admit when you're right.
They get mad when you come in late.
But won't buy you a watch
Even though you can tell time.
They're always too busy to play.
They think they know everything.'
They always say, "When I was your age..."
They don't listen to you.
And get mad when you don't listen.
They yell at you for untold reasons.

(Written in 1996 sometime.)

When You're So Old and Grey

When You're So Old and Grey

There is no reason for your sorrow.
There is no reason to be sad.
The summer is gone so far way
But you're still alive
And you're still young.
And there's always time for play.

Don't tell me you've too much to do
Don't think I don't know better.
There's always time to clean the house
But your children never stay.
Before you know it, they're gone
And you'll miss them more each day.

Just think about the days you've spent
And the memories you weave.
It's no fun to think about when your toilet was
     squeaky clean
But the time you spent with little Tim
Playing and swinging in the park
Is something to look back upon when you're
     so old and grey.

(Sometime in 1996)

Kids Are Stupid Because...

Kids Are Stupid Because...

They say they hate to bathe
But when they do they don't want out.
They always want to stay up late
And then take naps in the day.
They don't eat what we fix.
They don't understand the value of work.
They don't make sense when they cry.
They're constantly asking why.
They never do what we ask
When we ask.
They never clean their room
And then complain when it's a mess.
They're never right.
They won't come home on time.
They always ask us to play
When we're tired or busy.
They think we know everything.
They expect us to hear two things at once.
They don't know why we're mad at them
Even though it's what they've just done.

(Written sometime in 1996)

Don't worry.  I have one about grown ups, too.  ;)

The Rain Will Wash Away My Pain

And now, it's 1996 and I am sixteen and a Junior in high school.  Or it could be the beginning of my Senior year.  I can't remember.  Nor did I find any of these poems put together in a poetry unit.  They were for an English class, though.  The top of this page says "4th hour, Poem #2."  So the rest will be in no particular order, and I will just try to figure out the year they were written.

The Rain Will Wash Away My Pain

The storm has come
I've been expecting it somehow.
But you still caught me off guard.
Lightning struck my heart.
It's ending the way it began
The rain will wash away my pain
I don't need a cloud to cry on
The rain will wash away my pain
I'll get on alone somehow.

(Written sometime in 1996)

Don't Frown

So I found this poem a couple days ago.  I don't know when it was written, but it's obvious to me who it was written for.  If I had to guess a year, I would say 1992 or 1993.  It's about my sister.  She is ten years younger than me, so she would have been two or three when I wrote this.

Don't Frown

Please don't frown,

My dear sweet child.

Smile, Emily,

Smile like a clown.

Oh, I wish

For a change,

That down on the range,

You and I could talk.

We could talk and walk,

Walk down the old farm road

To the old red barn

With bales and bales of hay.

We would get in the loft

And we would feel the soft gray kittens there.

Emily, my dear, I am of all people

Here for you in your time of sorrow.

If you're ready we will talk

Talk of your past and of your tomorrow.

Tell me, tell me of your feelings.

Tell me of your dealings.

Would I intrude?

Would I just be an interlude?

If I were to want to be

Your best friend?

The Place

So yesterday's poem was the last assignment in my poetry unit for my 5th hour.  But then I turned the page and found this poem.  Let's see... As far as I can tell, I wrote this poem for Reflections when I was a Sophomore.  The theme was "Dare to Discover."  I don't know if I ever turned it in because all I have is a hand written copy.  Maybe that's because I turned it in.  I do think our teacher made everyone write one, but not necessarily made us all enter the Reflections contest.  Clearly, if I did enter, I didn't win.  I would remember winning something, wouldn't I?

The Place

I have just discovered
A land never before uncovered.
A place where your eyes don't go.
A place only I know.

A place so rare.
It's just not fair.
A place so sleek
A place you will never reach.

A place only I can go.
A place you will never know.
A place only I can find.
A place only in my mind.

But there is a place only you can know.
A place only you can go.
Dare to discover
Your place not yet uncovered.

(January 6, 1995)

It's Too Late To Say I Love You

It's Too Late To Say, "I Love You"

How long until I see you one more time?
I miss the times we had shared together.
I long to feel your touch and see you shine.
My world, without you, will never get better.
One day I will find you in my arms again.
And I will kiss your beautiful, soft lips.
But for now, I will only feel this pain.
I watch the rain on my window as it drips.
I am so glad that I can remember
Those long walks on the beach at midnight.
And I remember talking in September.
And when we would make-up after our fights.
I can remember all the times we shared.
But I never told you how much I cared.

(1995 - probably April or May)

Ouija Board

Like I had to in my last Poetry Unit, I had to make a poem and put it in the shape of the subject of the poem.  It's not perfect, but I did my best.

Mathew

Last night I turned the page to the next poem in my Poetry Unit.  I couldn't believe what I had written.  Usually my poetry is more vague and while maybe directed at one particular person, I still had the presence of mind not to name them by name!  This poem is so judgmental.  I'm really uncomfortable posting it.  Mostly because I remember exactly what this poem is about.  My fifteen year old brain didn't understand why my best friend was choosing substance abuse over me, but now I know a little bit more about addiction.  I was pretty mad, sad, lonely, etc at him when I wrote this.  I don't think I ever showed it to him.  I really hope I never did.  And I hope he never sees it even now.  Matt, if you ever do stumble upon this, I'm sorry.  I loved you then, and I love you now.  I'm glad you were able to overcome your demons and are really happy now.

Mathew

Mathew, Mathew you walked so tall.

Mathew, Mathew, but now you crawl.

Mathew of all the things you could have been,

Why are you now what you should not have been?

Mathew, Mathew what made it so?

Mathew, Mathew is it all show?

Mathew, I know you and you are no creep.

But why do you follow all the other sheep?

Mathew, Mathew has no control

Mathew, Mathew gave up his soul

Mathew, don't you understand this can end?

Mathew, don't you know I am still your friend?

(Spring? 1995)

Three Haiku

Three Haiku is the requirement for the next assignment in my Poetry Unit:

The Wicked Witch of the West

Water spilt on me

I am beginning to melt

Save me from myself.

Tumble

A violent shove

I tumble down the staircase

My world is now dark.

Satin's Promise

You can have it all

The world will be at your feet

For a small price.

(Written in early 1995)

The World Loves A Happy Ending

The World Loves A Happy Ending

The world loves a happy ending.

So I shall give you one.

I'll tell the tale of this lady fair

And her knight in shining armor.

To school, to school went the lady fair.

As well did our knight in shining armor.

And they had a grand time being free from mother's grasp.

Single, single single were they to be forevermore.

'Till fate's young dream took our lady fair

As well our knight in shining armor

To a ball, to a ball to have a time of splendor.

Twas a grand ball indeed; laughter and music filled the air.

The knight danced with the girls

He danced with the ladies.

'Till his eyes did turn their gaze to her:

The lady fair, oh so fair.

So he was introduced to her.

Twas love at first sight.

He asked her to a ball in a forth-night.

She agreed, her deep blue eyes smiling at his.

And so it is with our lady fair

And her knight in shining armor.

Together they doth live

With a holy band around their hearts.

(Written sometime in early 1995)

The Raptor

The Raptor

In the distance I hear him roar.
Then again, closer now.
His screech now in my ears.
Horrible as fingernails on the chalkboard

I turn around.  He's there!
Hiding in the bush.
His friends not far behind.
This is God's mistake, and he is hunting me!

The devil in the trees.
He is an ancient beast.
With frightening speed, he lurches forward.
Overtaking his prey.

His teeth are like chainsaws
Tearing at my belly.
Near to my face now,
His breath like the stench of rotting flesh.

My encounter with this over-sized lizard
Was far from pleasent.
Now the pain is over,
And this ferocious flesh-eater is complete.

(Written sometime in the late winter/early spring of 1995)

Stand

This poetry unit is also shorter than the other one because I was assigned to put a poem from another author it it, and to put lyrics from a song in it as well.  The poem I chose was "Eldorado" by Edgar Allan Poe.  The song I chose was "Strange Kind of Love" by Peter Murphy.
Today's poem had a drawing behind it.  First the poem.

Stand

Today I ran

Far from the land

Away from the world and you.

If I could fly

(I'd like to try),

I would follow your sky too.

You never knew

I loved you too.

Can I help you understand

That what we had

Was simply mad,

And I can no longer stand?

 (Sometime in the late winter or early spring of 1995)

And now the photograph of my drawing.  You know.  Just for kicks.