Mar 09
[I was barely 18 when I wrote this. Can you tell? (<----that's irony)]
Farewell
to the carefree days of youth
when Mommy tucked me in and read me
a story,
and Daddy threw me high in the air
and caught me, laughing.
Farewell
to those books and games
and children’s things
that kept me young inside
There is no time for
sweet reflection;
No time to change direction.
My feet point forward,
and it is forward I must go–
Over seas of despair
and waves of depression;
mountainous sighs
and rivers that rise.
This I must conquer
and divide
or fall.
So farewell
to those days
And farewell
to the me that was then.
Wave goodbye.
—June, 1981
[tags]cringe, poetry, college, pain[/tags]
March 9th, 2007 at 3:19 pm
Are you “go thru old stuff” mode?
i have been trying to do (go thru old stuff) and let go, assuring myself that having manifested both good and bad… i can do so again…
)))))
do you find yourself surprised either how good something you created was/is or how bad? my feeling now is usually exactly opposite to how i felt then!
okay, enough winking… this is suppposed to be day of feeling and writing and detoxing… i’ve strayed from my intention.
feel!
write!
detox!
love, cynzim
March 9th, 2007 at 9:56 pm
Hey Cynzim,
I’m doing a lot of exploring and examining and discarding old stuff, but none of it’s really tangible. And actually the more I read this poem today the more I liked it, but I think it was more in honoring the me I was then and whatever space I was in to write this.
March 10th, 2007 at 4:13 am
A couple of weeks ago, a friend e-mailed me two poems I wrote at age 17 that she found in a notebook of hers. She thought they were quite good. I emphatically disagree.
March 11th, 2007 at 9:22 pm
My cousin used to communicate with her future self when was in her early 20s. Her future self was very helpful and gave good advice. She also looked like my cousin does now. (Of course, my cousin, is on the psy-wi, as am I, as are we all… but that’s another story.)
Your poem and Peter’s response have me pondering the film between past and future selves…
which i guess would be the present.
and it is,
of course,
developing.
cynzim
March 18th, 2007 at 12:43 am
Did you steal this from my one of my adolescent diaries which is locked in the storage closet across the hall from my apartment? I mean if you can channel, maybe you intuited it. Except I think I would have written that poem in 1977….it gave me a twinge, not a cringe. I remember when everything felt so huge and now that things are huge, they feel much smaller. Makes me kinda sad.