a few OLD, OLD poems. Like seriously. From highschool, like probably 1994 or 1995
So there was this one older poem I'd put in my facebook notes in 2009 because it felt relevant to a situation then in my personal/social life .... and I went back to it yesterday because it felt relevant to a different situation in my current social life.
And anyway, it prompted me to go back and look at the collection of my own poetry I put together and edited as my senior highschool project... (what that's about isn't important, just that it was a thing we had, and that's what I chose to do with it.) So a lot of it is... creaky. A lot of it is very adolescent (because it was) and feels that way to a jaded 35 year old eye.
But there were a few that still seemed pretty good to me, (other than the couple I'd already put up on facebook years back), so I thought I'd go and post them.
PS one of them, though I wouldn't have known the terms back then, is definitely a fanwork. Can you spot it without looking at the tags?
cat'e eyes
In her cat's eyes
Glowing yellow embers
They started a fire
This land of blackened ash
Was once a thriving town of imagination
It was once a heart of hope
Her cat's eyes enchanted me
But she teased my heart of gold
Into a thin wire and tied me up
No one knows what lies behind cat's eyes
This land of blackened ash
Was once the home of creativity
It was once a human soul
This land of blackened ash
Is coloured only by the charcoal of despair
And the ebony of pain
And the deep gray of betrayal
And the blazing white of my passion
My desire for her will not die
And who knows what lies behind cat's eyes
She does not let anyone glimpse her heart
Everything is hidden behind high ice walls
All I wanted was a chance at her love
And who knows what lies behind cat's eyes
I've been burned and consumed
By the fires of spite and desire
I shall rise as a phoenix and burn her down
And the smell of burnt fur will be all around
Her cat's eyes will not blaze so brightly anymore
She will never again be so proud
And her cat's eyes will be too meek to meet my gaze
As I spread my wings and fly away
From the spoils she made of my heart
********
A Vision of Pan
In the brightness of the day
Right by the babbling brook I lay
Where the towering trees did surround me
And the smell of pine was all around me
In a calm rock-pool I saw my face
And the regal beauty of this place;
Over the babbling brook I heard a song
On pipes played quietly, with melody strong.
In the purple warmness of the twilight
I stood on a rock beach with the ocean in sight
On jagged rocks the waves broke, crashing,
Spraying me as I watched birds splashing.
With salt in my nostrils, I closed my eyes,
And somehow, over waves and seagull's cries,
From a rock, I heard the pipes sweetly playing.
And, enthralled, saw Pan merrily swaying.
In the cold, silver darkness of the night,
Surrounded by buildings, the urban plight,
On a green lawn of manicured grass,
In a midtown haven of the middle class,
Above the din from my neighbour's house,
I heard the pipes, quiet as a mouse.
And I turned around, there to see
The satyr-king on the roof, calling me.
*************
Under the Stars
The moon is crying for her misguided son
And you stand looking up to the stars
It's not the tears clouding your vision:
You cannot see him because he is not there.
Look long at the stars, Horatio:
You will not find him sparkling in the heavens.
Weep long for your lost love
He suffers still on this mortal earth
An unavenged spirit among cowardly men.
Imagine, he breathes softly over your shoulder
As you and the stars console one another
Imagine his hands in your curls
And his tattered eyes mirroring yours.
Where did they leave him to his rest?
Surely deep in the soil of Elsinore.
No, he is buried in your heart
And each beat aches from the weight.
In the glass your face has grown hollow and gaunt
And every day you check for the gleam of madness in your eyes
The cloth of your soul reduced to rags,
Will you fear it or embrace it when the final thread snaps?
The creatures of the night keep their quiet vigil,
But the silence is broken by Horatio's scream.
And anyway, it prompted me to go back and look at the collection of my own poetry I put together and edited as my senior highschool project... (what that's about isn't important, just that it was a thing we had, and that's what I chose to do with it.) So a lot of it is... creaky. A lot of it is very adolescent (because it was) and feels that way to a jaded 35 year old eye.
But there were a few that still seemed pretty good to me, (other than the couple I'd already put up on facebook years back), so I thought I'd go and post them.
PS one of them, though I wouldn't have known the terms back then, is definitely a fanwork. Can you spot it without looking at the tags?
cat'e eyes
In her cat's eyes
Glowing yellow embers
They started a fire
This land of blackened ash
Was once a thriving town of imagination
It was once a heart of hope
Her cat's eyes enchanted me
But she teased my heart of gold
Into a thin wire and tied me up
No one knows what lies behind cat's eyes
This land of blackened ash
Was once the home of creativity
It was once a human soul
This land of blackened ash
Is coloured only by the charcoal of despair
And the ebony of pain
And the deep gray of betrayal
And the blazing white of my passion
My desire for her will not die
And who knows what lies behind cat's eyes
She does not let anyone glimpse her heart
Everything is hidden behind high ice walls
All I wanted was a chance at her love
And who knows what lies behind cat's eyes
I've been burned and consumed
By the fires of spite and desire
I shall rise as a phoenix and burn her down
And the smell of burnt fur will be all around
Her cat's eyes will not blaze so brightly anymore
She will never again be so proud
And her cat's eyes will be too meek to meet my gaze
As I spread my wings and fly away
From the spoils she made of my heart
********
A Vision of Pan
In the brightness of the day
Right by the babbling brook I lay
Where the towering trees did surround me
And the smell of pine was all around me
In a calm rock-pool I saw my face
And the regal beauty of this place;
Over the babbling brook I heard a song
On pipes played quietly, with melody strong.
In the purple warmness of the twilight
I stood on a rock beach with the ocean in sight
On jagged rocks the waves broke, crashing,
Spraying me as I watched birds splashing.
With salt in my nostrils, I closed my eyes,
And somehow, over waves and seagull's cries,
From a rock, I heard the pipes sweetly playing.
And, enthralled, saw Pan merrily swaying.
In the cold, silver darkness of the night,
Surrounded by buildings, the urban plight,
On a green lawn of manicured grass,
In a midtown haven of the middle class,
Above the din from my neighbour's house,
I heard the pipes, quiet as a mouse.
And I turned around, there to see
The satyr-king on the roof, calling me.
*************
Under the Stars
The moon is crying for her misguided son
And you stand looking up to the stars
It's not the tears clouding your vision:
You cannot see him because he is not there.
Look long at the stars, Horatio:
You will not find him sparkling in the heavens.
Weep long for your lost love
He suffers still on this mortal earth
An unavenged spirit among cowardly men.
Imagine, he breathes softly over your shoulder
As you and the stars console one another
Imagine his hands in your curls
And his tattered eyes mirroring yours.
Where did they leave him to his rest?
Surely deep in the soil of Elsinore.
No, he is buried in your heart
And each beat aches from the weight.
In the glass your face has grown hollow and gaunt
And every day you check for the gleam of madness in your eyes
The cloth of your soul reduced to rags,
Will you fear it or embrace it when the final thread snaps?
The creatures of the night keep their quiet vigil,
But the silence is broken by Horatio's scream.