One of the best and worst parts about moving is finding stuff you've forgotten about and the stuff you hold on to, even though you never look at or use it anymore. Some years ago I carefully transcribed the poems I wrote in high school and college into a spiral journal and in the years since, I've added scraps and fragments written here and there. Some of the poems are good, most are just plain angsty, all are a record of my then-life. Here are a few I wrote in college. (Some poems I wrote in high school.) I promise this is the last of them!

Rain

The rhythmic pattern beats time on my soul

A lulling pinprick of sound,

it reassures with perfect clarity

That time's metronome must forge on

To bring new life to past's promises.

Small, simplistic

Yet somehow this gives me peace.

           -August 1, 2000 (OK, this one I love. Rain is my favorite.)

Perfection

She stands in a red shirt and jeans

While he's dressed in a striped shirt and shorts

His cell phone pokes out of a pocket,

A pack of cigarettes peek out from their home in his shirt.

They look forward, frozen in time

Clasped in each other's arms.

She glows with happiness

It's obvious she loves this scene.

His face is lit up as well, echoing the same emotions.

Everything is perfect.

The tables turn, shining new light

Her blissful innocence stares out

But he-

Does his smile seem forced?

His arms seemed loving, protective-

But were they?

Maybe the cell phone rings, breaking the pose

He might speak to someone she doesn't know.

Maybe she will never know.

The idyllic moment passes by

Reality is her bothersome friend.

Everything was perfect.

Questions whirl around

No clear answer comes forth.

Where did the feelings go?

She never saw them leave.

He still looks out.

She still stares,

Then she sets down the picture and walks away.

Was it really perfect?

            -March 27, 2000 (Profound or pretentious? Maybe both. I still have the picture.)

A fragment

You confused me

And I somehow believed your

Eyes of wide innocence

Intently memorizing mine

You liked:

my hair, my smile, my body, my eyes

my personality, my clothes, my laugh

Me

Silver tongued words floated around us.

You checked my tag and discovered

I was made in heaven

           -written sometime in 2001 or 2002 (because a pick-up line like this must be commemorated on the page)

One of the best and worst parts about moving is finding stuff you've forgotten about and the stuff you hold on to, even though you never look at or use it anymore. Some years ago I carefully transcribed the poems I wrote in high school and college into a spiral journal and in the years since, I've added scraps and fragments written here and there. Some of the poems are good, most are just plain angsty, all are a record of my then-life. Here are a few I wrote in high school.

Mislead

I feel strong

Yet there's no muscle to show

I feel intelligent

Yet grades don't reflect it

I feel love

Yet spend weekends alone,

         never invited.

I feel power

Yet I'm never a leader,

        always a follower.

I feel truth

Yet I am told lies,

        still believe lies.

I feel beauty

        then look in the mirror.

I feel rich

Yet I can't attain my desires.

I feel honored

Yet never rewarded

I feel pain

Yet no one cares.

                    -1997 (What strikes me about this one is how it was written out of pain and hyperbole and therefore filled with inaccuracies about my high school experience. Bless my 17 year old heart.)

Hope

The cold air creeps across the surface,

Reminders that winter still reigns

Amidst yearnings for spring and summer.

Snow blocks all excapes-

No place to run and no place to hide.

There's no alternative but to

Face the mistery in the bleek, barren day,

And then wonder if Spring might come again

Or if winter is just a life sentence.

There's love and hate

But nothing in between,

Except for sunlight struggling

To shine through before it's strangled again.

A leaf hangs from the branch

Its owner is old, the roots are firm

As is its icy hold.

Restraining, pushing fingers

Not allowing an escape or a survival.

But the leaf knows

It knows that spring might come again

And then it will begin to live.

So it waits, ignores the cold,

Forgets the pain, and remembers that

Spring could come

One day soon.

                             -1998 (written in my senior year Advanced English Seminar class with Dr. Langlas)

Paul

I met him once

Enough to read his eyes

I know him well

But really not at all

The idea engraved on my heart,

My mind and my soul

One brief moment

Trapped in time forever

And how can I forget

Him I never knew.

                              -1997 (Note: it turns out you can forget "him I never knew." No clue who Paul is.)

This poured out of me the other night and since Amanda said she'd hurt me if I didn't share more poetry...

One of my strengths is the ability to sit with others in their darkest moments but when it comes to my loved ones, I would give anything to make it better. This is how I live in the tension.

I will away tears

    dripping down my face

Rivers of sorrow crisscross cheeks

Eyes squeeze shut

    searching for strength

And open to look into Grief's beholder

I cannot undo this for her

I hate this for her

I am helpless

These eyes of mine continue their leaking

Saying what is unsaid

We sit together and

    I listen

I see

    strength in shouldering her burden

In letting her see me break

    on her behalf

"When we talk about settling the world's problems, we're barking up the wrong tree.  The world is perfect.  It's a mess.  It has always been a mess.  We are not going to change it.  Our job is to straighten out our own lives." - Joseph Campbell

She and I sit over a cup of coffee

We're solving the world's problems, we joke

Because of course our solutions are right

Whether world peace or what to wear on our next dates

Lofty goals, maybe

But it's easier to see problems

From the outside looking in

Than examine what's inside

Enough about me, I say

Though, really, I've only grazed the surface

Time to retreat to safety and turn the tables

I stretch my hand across

To comfort, to console

I won't try to fix you, at least I don't think

The questions I ask you, I ask myself

In listening to you, I listen to me

But letting you ask the questions?

I'm not ready

Every time the rain lashes out

I wonder where the homeless find shelter

This question keeps tugging

Systems are in place, to help or to maintain

Maybe even limit

It's not hard to see Contributor vendors

And believe my $1 tip is enough (in)action

Be the change, I admonish myself

Be the freaking change

But it's months later and I still haven't acted

The To Do list is ever long

Overwhelming

I stick to the tasks I know, slowly branching out

I incorporate all of life that way

Adding a friend here and there

Trying something new

Dipping a toe into the unknown

Seeing how brave I am the day before, the day of

Voicing in-the-moment concerns out loud

Instead of quietly puzzling through

The easier route needles me

Vulnerability is risky business

Even for me

Especially for me

But it's worth it every time

And so I invite you to iron the wrinkles

Turn the tables on me

It's time for straightening

To be the me I'm meant to be

Change, I whisper within

This corner of the world

Messy in perfection

Invites you in for tea

Linking up to the Gathered Thoughts party at LoveFeast Table.  I rarely publish poetry here but these words have bounced around ever since my blog friend Laura of Hollywood Housewife asked me to participate. Be sure to see how other people were inspired by their Gathered Thought.

What came to mind when you read the Joseph Campell quote?