Freebie Mondays: Selected Poems Round 2

Freebie Mondays: Selected Poems Round 2

When I decided to go back through my poetry folder, I learned a lot of things about myself.

First, I had forgotten how moody I was as a teenager. Maybe all teenagers are moody. Maybe that’s normal. But there are a lot of things I wrote back then that still make me cringe.

The second is that I must have been sad a lot as a teenager. I mean, I know there were some rough times. My grandmother on my father’s side died of cancer the last day of school my eighth grade year. My parents went through a messy divorce afterward. And my boyfriend lived in Canada at the time – we dated online before dating online was really a thing.

But man did I ever write about crying A LOT.

Still, there are also a lot of gems lurking in that folder. And that’s the main thing I learned. At every step of the writing journey, no matter how young you are in the craft, you’ll have brilliant moments. And it’s really nice to go back and discover them.

Even if they’re only fragments, like this random scribble I never actually finished:

When you see it turning
When you see it failing
When you see it falling
Fading into you

Upon the hour
Upon the day
Upon the road
That winds away

Apparently, I emailed this to myself sometime in 2010. I clearly meant to finish it, but I never did. I think I vaguely remember a stroke of inspiration driving me to jot it down, but I don’t know why I never got back to it.

Here’s another fragmentary thought that involves great imagery:

Remember when the days were long
When the sun shone bright and crisp
Like a flaming discus hung in the sky
And the green grass glinted beneath its light?

Remember when the flowers swayed in warm breezes
Vivid splashes of cyan, lavender and crimson
Before they bowed their heads and went to sleep
As the wind siren sang summer’s last song?

This one, I think, may have had something to do with a short story that I have tried to write – and subsequently abandoned – several times by the name of The Last Song of Summer. But I’m also pretty sure this poem – like the story it references – was abandoned halfway through. A shame, because it seemed to be going well.

It’s also interesting to note that writing has been a vehicle for me to work through my thoughts and feelings for a long time.

In some cases, the only grander purpose was to get the thoughts out of my head so I wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. In those cases, they often took the form of random notes scribbled in the margins of my school notebooks, like this oddity, written in November of 2001:

Woke up this morning with too much on my mind. Too crowded now… can’t think straight about any one thing. Why does life have to be so chaotic? Ah well… the tarot cards warned you, didn’t they? “Life’s rolling for you” they say. She gets 4 cards, you get 10.

Why can’t I just get a break. I really need a break. Don’t you know, it’s hard to fight an enemy that has outposts in your head. Yeah, I just can’t let another thought in this crowded head. And I bet it doesn’t bother them.

And you know, he watches you all night. He’ll speak to the phantoms in the back of your mind but he won’t speak to them. And what about the girl, the one with beads in her hair? Her silence is starting to piss me off. IT doesn’t take too much any more.

I just need a break. A break would be real good. Don’t you know, it’s hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head. Did you ever just want to take a vacation? And sleep… you know that’s a good thing too.

And you know it wouldn’t be this hard if he was here. He makes all the cares go away. And it doesn’t seem like life likes me much without him. Even the music doesn’t help any more. I prefer silence… I hate silence. And when did the darkness become so nice? I always wanted light before.

And I really want a break. A break from life. Didn’t you know it’s hard to fight an enemy who’s got outposts in your head. I need a vacation from my mind. Maybe then I can deal.

All I really need is a break. Just a quick break.

Random, I know, but parts of it have an interesting cadence. I’m not sure what, exactly, drove me to write any of this down anymore, and I’m pretty sure it’s mostly made up of random snippets of conversation with friends that I felt compelled to jot down for some reason. But it’s an interesting little snapshot of my life at the time.

In other cases, I seem to have used poetry to help me get a sense of certain characters.

Lurking in the shadows
Far away from light
Seeking out unearthly powers
Known by only creatures of the night
Every secret ‘neath the stars
Can be within your sight
If only you would reach out
And let the darkness take you

Sweet seductive mistress
I swear to keep you near
If you share with me your secrets
Let no magician be my peer
Surrender your inhibitions
There’ll be nothing left to fear
If only you would give in
And let the darkness touch you

Wrapped in cool calm shadows
Hidden from all living things
Feel the power flowing in your veins
You can rise above the rank of kings
It doesn’t take much
Merely listen as she sings
If only you would close your eyes
And let the darkness embrace you

While I have lots of poems relating to Rose and Zita, two of my earliest characters, this one was actually written about one of my husband’s. The enigmatic Warden, companion to Cazella, who I spent a lot of time developing at the end of high school and during the early years of my marriage. He’s a powerful sorcerer who deals a lot with dark magic, in case the themes aren’t quite clear.

I want to say this was heavily inspired by Music of the Night, from Phantom of the Opera. But since I can’t remember when I wrote it, I can’t say for sure.

Of course, I can always tell the poems I tried hardest to polish. Here’s another one that fell victim to a vanity press:

Will you come to me in this night
Will you break it with your light
Will you give my eyes their sight
Can you forgive me for this fight?

Will you hold me through the storm
Will you keep me safe and warm
Will you keep the vows you’ve sworn
Can you rescue me this morn?

Will you still give me your sweet kiss
Will you still hold me in your sweet bliss
Will you take me with you in happiness
Can you forgive me all of this?

Will you still hold me like a prize
Will you still look deep into my eyes
Will you let our love grow in size
Can you help me run from this demise?

Will you take me under your Angel wings
Will you still choose me over the women of kings
Will you still hold me up and heal these broken dreams
Can you forgive me all these things?

You may have noticed a distinct lack of characters like Domerin and Azmih in these poems. That’s mostly because I didn’t start seriously writing with them until after my poetry phase ended.

But, I did find at least one Domerin-centric poem buried in my folder. Perhaps I’ll share it next time?

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