Poems From My Youth
Just spending the day sorting out the house, cleaning out papers and emptying boxes (I've been here a year, and still unpacking). I happened to find these poems and thought I'd record them here, for posterity.
Feeling Negative (this is as emo as I got as a child...)
I stepped into a gigantic land
(about the size of a baby's hand)
looked around and saw some flowers,
sniffed a few and gained strange powers.
Black was white, white was black,
everything was front to back.
As I started to wander the land
(about the size of a baby's hand)
I tripped under a rope hanging up from the ground,
fell down in the sky and vanished without a sound.
The Easter Egg (age unknown, although I recall writing this as if I were younger... so I wasn't as young as the poem's character)
I got a giant easter egg
from Aunt and Uncle Phil
and when I cracked it open,
boy it was a thrill.
Inside there was a gateway
to a strange and magic land.
I saw a knight on a flying horse,
and a castle big and grand.
So I leapt into my easter egg
and landed on a track.
When I finally looked around,
I found I couldn't go back.
I walked to a lake,
and found a female otter
But when I walked up to it,
her mum came and got her.
I tried to call them back to me,
but they kept swimming away.
What they were afraid of,
I couldn't really say.
I ran into the castle
and had a look around.
The rooms were quite full of dust,
and looked pretty run down.
But in one of the rooms
I found a small wizard gnome
When he saw me he waved his hand
and sent me straight back home.
I blinked my eyes in disbelief
of what had happened there.
If I tried to tell anyone,
they wouldn't really care.
I walked up to my easter egg
and wrapped it really tight
I didn't want anyone coming through
at 12 o'clock at night!
I put on my pyjamas
and hopped into bed.
But the rest of my adventures
are never to be said.
My Poem (age unknown, but I suspect I just started writing and couldn't think of anything)
I once made a poem,
it took a very long time.
I did my very, very best
to make it rhyme.
I thought and I thought
for very, very long,
but couldn't think of anything
to make it like a song.
I tried and tried to think of something
before I had to go,
and when I did think of something,
I put on quite a show.
So now you've heard my poem,
a sort of rhyming song
I hope you liked it,
for it took so very long.
Botany Bay (age 12, for a year 7 project I seem to recall)
This is my story, it may sound gory,
but listen if you please.
It's about some people, some very frightened people,
these people - the Aborigines.
Captain Cook was one for the book
as he took over Botany Bay.
He kicked the Aborigines out of the place,
and out they were to stay.
They tried to fight back, but ran down the track,
while being chased away.
So that is the story, the horrible story,
The story of Botany Bay.
Goddess (age 15, written for my first - and last - online girlfriend, who lived in England... There are a couple of others, but I think those are better as memories...)
The moonlight reflects
off a deep ocean blue,
lighting the ballroom
a dim purple hue.
Grand windows, curtains drawn,
the light passing through,
rays shining and glimmering,
off the dress wrapping you.
Goddess of the sea,
Mermaid of light,
dancing your rapture
far into the night.
To see is to be dazzled;
eyes blind from the sight.
Such peace, such divinity,
meant for no mortal's plight.
My feet move themselves,
while nothing I do,
hypnotised by the power
of a beauty so true.
I close my approach,
my movements so slow,
shyly as you dance,
afraid you'll say no.
You hold me and sing,
notes reaching such height.
Across the ballroom we dance,
our feet taking flight.
A song of the sea
from the deep ocean bowl
rings sweetly in my ears,
strumming chords on my soul.
To the soft gentle music,
you sing and we dance,
your beauty, your voice,
holding me in a trance.
But all music ends,
as your song does now.
I thank you for the dance,
kiss your hand and then bow.
Tomorrow night,
our song will start anew,
because you love me,
and I love you too.
Maths (age 15, written for my maths teacher who I shared a cheeky competition with... was hilarious at the time)
Rise early in the morning,
have breakfast, brush my hair.
Cleaning teeth, packing bag,
pick out what to wear.
The journey takes forever,
then I get off the bus,
look at my watch "Oh dear I'm late
for Intro Calculus!"
I hurry to the classroom,
knock nervously on the door.
An ominous creak, the teacher appears,
eyes burning me to the core.
"In!" she instructs loudly,
I waste no time finding a seat.
She hands me a test, "30 minutes" she says,
"don't talk and do not cheat".
As she stomps back to her desk,
I lower my head and stare.
Inside I scream, outside perspire,
this test I cannot bear.
Chaotic digits streak the page,
forming sense I don't understand.
I scribble down, then cross out,
pen loose in sweaty hand.
Carry the one, double that,
all to the power of five.
Mental cogs turning fast,
luck if I get out alive.
"Fifteen minutes!" she cries triumphant,
and all I need is a glance
to see that she knows with mocking eyes,
maths students have no chance.
The clock is ticking away,
number chaos still does reign.
The answers come, but are they right?
I check over and over again.
"Hand them in!" A final shriek.
Pen drops terrified from my hand.
On my desk her shadow appears,
and meekly I do stand.
She sneers and snatches the test away,
then with a sadistic grin,
from her pocket comes a red pen;
to me, a malicious thing.
In a moment she returns the test,
evil smile upon her face.
"Fail!" she exclaims and quickly adds
"Better pick up the pace"
I nod politely, avoiding her gaze,
knowing it would mean my doom.
Pack up my pens, push in my chair,
shuffle quietly out of the room.
Looking back on it now I smile,
knowing it's not a problem with me,
Maths is hard, and never as simple
as 1... 2... 3.
Refrain (age 15, teenage sadness as friends are lost and self is redefined)
Another dreary day, this life
Torrents of rain beating the ground
Storms ranging both inside and out of my head
Drowning out my thoughts
Feelings fall and headaches rise
An internal battle tearing me apart
Armies of virtue and sin at war
And their leader is losing control
Eventually one side will prevail
But the burden of the dead shall not be forgotten
The guilt of the slaughter will stay with me always
But the atrocities can never be revealed
There's safety in numbers
I am but one
Vulnerable to the world and its pains
Maybe soon, I need hurt no more
The wounds are healing, but they'll leave scars
White-hot lashes across my soul
Too many daggers still in my back
But the blood is not all my own
False friends, yet I'm unsure how real I've been
True lies, innocent yet so painful, hurting the innocent
Too busy trying to protect the ones I care for
That I'm forgetting to protect myself.
Nocturne (again, age 15... can't remember why I wrote this, I think it was for myself rather than anyone else. I remember feeling sad and alone at the time)
Bright stars gleaming
Specks of light in the dark
I stroll through the gardens
Waiting for you. Listening. Hark!
I turn on my heel,
hopeful expression on my face.
Where I thought I would see you,
there is nothing. Empty space.
I sigh and begin
my wander again.
Longing for your presence,
I ask the world "when?"
Air sharp, breath condensing
so cool and so crisp.
No animation in the trees,
breeze barely a wisp.
I drift along slowly,
feet unclear where to go,
but they move on regardless,
still hoping you'll show.
My only companion
a small garden gnome,
kind face, fishing rod,
but frozen in stone.
He stands in the shadow
of a magnificent fern.
Like me, it reaches,
for the light it does yearn.
I sit next to the gnome,
push aside a fern frond.
I break the soft silence,
by skipping stones on the pond.
In this garden I will wait
with the gnome and his fern.
And until you appear,
I'll repeat this Nocturne.
Until next time.
3:07pm
Feeling Negative (this is as emo as I got as a child...)
I stepped into a gigantic land
(about the size of a baby's hand)
looked around and saw some flowers,
sniffed a few and gained strange powers.
Black was white, white was black,
everything was front to back.
As I started to wander the land
(about the size of a baby's hand)
I tripped under a rope hanging up from the ground,
fell down in the sky and vanished without a sound.
The Easter Egg (age unknown, although I recall writing this as if I were younger... so I wasn't as young as the poem's character)
I got a giant easter egg
from Aunt and Uncle Phil
and when I cracked it open,
boy it was a thrill.
Inside there was a gateway
to a strange and magic land.
I saw a knight on a flying horse,
and a castle big and grand.
So I leapt into my easter egg
and landed on a track.
When I finally looked around,
I found I couldn't go back.
I walked to a lake,
and found a female otter
But when I walked up to it,
her mum came and got her.
I tried to call them back to me,
but they kept swimming away.
What they were afraid of,
I couldn't really say.
I ran into the castle
and had a look around.
The rooms were quite full of dust,
and looked pretty run down.
But in one of the rooms
I found a small wizard gnome
When he saw me he waved his hand
and sent me straight back home.
I blinked my eyes in disbelief
of what had happened there.
If I tried to tell anyone,
they wouldn't really care.
I walked up to my easter egg
and wrapped it really tight
I didn't want anyone coming through
at 12 o'clock at night!
I put on my pyjamas
and hopped into bed.
But the rest of my adventures
are never to be said.
My Poem (age unknown, but I suspect I just started writing and couldn't think of anything)
I once made a poem,
it took a very long time.
I did my very, very best
to make it rhyme.
I thought and I thought
for very, very long,
but couldn't think of anything
to make it like a song.
I tried and tried to think of something
before I had to go,
and when I did think of something,
I put on quite a show.
So now you've heard my poem,
a sort of rhyming song
I hope you liked it,
for it took so very long.
Botany Bay (age 12, for a year 7 project I seem to recall)
This is my story, it may sound gory,
but listen if you please.
It's about some people, some very frightened people,
these people - the Aborigines.
Captain Cook was one for the book
as he took over Botany Bay.
He kicked the Aborigines out of the place,
and out they were to stay.
They tried to fight back, but ran down the track,
while being chased away.
So that is the story, the horrible story,
The story of Botany Bay.
Goddess (age 15, written for my first - and last - online girlfriend, who lived in England... There are a couple of others, but I think those are better as memories...)
The moonlight reflects
off a deep ocean blue,
lighting the ballroom
a dim purple hue.
Grand windows, curtains drawn,
the light passing through,
rays shining and glimmering,
off the dress wrapping you.
Goddess of the sea,
Mermaid of light,
dancing your rapture
far into the night.
To see is to be dazzled;
eyes blind from the sight.
Such peace, such divinity,
meant for no mortal's plight.
My feet move themselves,
while nothing I do,
hypnotised by the power
of a beauty so true.
I close my approach,
my movements so slow,
shyly as you dance,
afraid you'll say no.
You hold me and sing,
notes reaching such height.
Across the ballroom we dance,
our feet taking flight.
A song of the sea
from the deep ocean bowl
rings sweetly in my ears,
strumming chords on my soul.
To the soft gentle music,
you sing and we dance,
your beauty, your voice,
holding me in a trance.
But all music ends,
as your song does now.
I thank you for the dance,
kiss your hand and then bow.
Tomorrow night,
our song will start anew,
because you love me,
and I love you too.
Maths (age 15, written for my maths teacher who I shared a cheeky competition with... was hilarious at the time)
Rise early in the morning,
have breakfast, brush my hair.
Cleaning teeth, packing bag,
pick out what to wear.
The journey takes forever,
then I get off the bus,
look at my watch "Oh dear I'm late
for Intro Calculus!"
I hurry to the classroom,
knock nervously on the door.
An ominous creak, the teacher appears,
eyes burning me to the core.
"In!" she instructs loudly,
I waste no time finding a seat.
She hands me a test, "30 minutes" she says,
"don't talk and do not cheat".
As she stomps back to her desk,
I lower my head and stare.
Inside I scream, outside perspire,
this test I cannot bear.
Chaotic digits streak the page,
forming sense I don't understand.
I scribble down, then cross out,
pen loose in sweaty hand.
Carry the one, double that,
all to the power of five.
Mental cogs turning fast,
luck if I get out alive.
"Fifteen minutes!" she cries triumphant,
and all I need is a glance
to see that she knows with mocking eyes,
maths students have no chance.
The clock is ticking away,
number chaos still does reign.
The answers come, but are they right?
I check over and over again.
"Hand them in!" A final shriek.
Pen drops terrified from my hand.
On my desk her shadow appears,
and meekly I do stand.
She sneers and snatches the test away,
then with a sadistic grin,
from her pocket comes a red pen;
to me, a malicious thing.
In a moment she returns the test,
evil smile upon her face.
"Fail!" she exclaims and quickly adds
"Better pick up the pace"
I nod politely, avoiding her gaze,
knowing it would mean my doom.
Pack up my pens, push in my chair,
shuffle quietly out of the room.
Looking back on it now I smile,
knowing it's not a problem with me,
Maths is hard, and never as simple
as 1... 2... 3.
Refrain (age 15, teenage sadness as friends are lost and self is redefined)
Another dreary day, this life
Torrents of rain beating the ground
Storms ranging both inside and out of my head
Drowning out my thoughts
Feelings fall and headaches rise
An internal battle tearing me apart
Armies of virtue and sin at war
And their leader is losing control
Eventually one side will prevail
But the burden of the dead shall not be forgotten
The guilt of the slaughter will stay with me always
But the atrocities can never be revealed
There's safety in numbers
I am but one
Vulnerable to the world and its pains
Maybe soon, I need hurt no more
The wounds are healing, but they'll leave scars
White-hot lashes across my soul
Too many daggers still in my back
But the blood is not all my own
False friends, yet I'm unsure how real I've been
True lies, innocent yet so painful, hurting the innocent
Too busy trying to protect the ones I care for
That I'm forgetting to protect myself.
Nocturne (again, age 15... can't remember why I wrote this, I think it was for myself rather than anyone else. I remember feeling sad and alone at the time)
Bright stars gleaming
Specks of light in the dark
I stroll through the gardens
Waiting for you. Listening. Hark!
I turn on my heel,
hopeful expression on my face.
Where I thought I would see you,
there is nothing. Empty space.
I sigh and begin
my wander again.
Longing for your presence,
I ask the world "when?"
Air sharp, breath condensing
so cool and so crisp.
No animation in the trees,
breeze barely a wisp.
I drift along slowly,
feet unclear where to go,
but they move on regardless,
still hoping you'll show.
My only companion
a small garden gnome,
kind face, fishing rod,
but frozen in stone.
He stands in the shadow
of a magnificent fern.
Like me, it reaches,
for the light it does yearn.
I sit next to the gnome,
push aside a fern frond.
I break the soft silence,
by skipping stones on the pond.
In this garden I will wait
with the gnome and his fern.
And until you appear,
I'll repeat this Nocturne.
Until next time.
3:07pm