Curious C at Idea Jump! is lucky enough to still have possession of her journals from when she was a kid. I am so jealous of this. The closest I have is some poetry I wrote in my late 20/early 30s. My poetry phase came about from my disgust with the people I saw getting their poems published. So I decided I would do this also, to prove my point. I would write whatever popped into my head and then submit it for publication. And I did get my poetry published, in a literary magazine the name of which I do not want to publish here because I don’t want to embarrass them, but it did prove my point.
Recently, Buck found a whole notebook of these poems I’d written, and I’m very pleased because they’re all so inane. I’ve decided to publish one each Wednesday for what I call Poetry Wednesday. Here’s the first one. I only wish I could remember who it was about.
your hands
that thing you were doing
with your hands
at the town band concert
made me so sick
i had to leave early.
just watching you
standing alone
across the green
making those gyrations
was too much to bear.
you used to do that
in high school
at basketball games
and we’d watch you
from across the gym.
what the hell
is going on
inside your head
anyway?
I wept.
I sighed.
I think I know that guy!
@ Bound and Gags – See, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of, people recognizing themselves or someone else. Especially when I get to my series titled: You And Your Fucking Friends. (And I don’t mean you or your friends, CZ)
I think I’m really going to enjoy this
How long ago did you write it? I found one of my diaries from high school. You know the kind with a little lock and key. It was very boring. I also found my two autograph books from 8th grade. The kind where kids wrote little ditties like Joan and Michael sitting in a tree K I S S I N G.
I will look forward to reading more of your poetry. I’d love to know what that person was doing with his/her hands?
@ MB – Excellent.
@ Joan – I wrote it in my late 20s, early 30s. I have a whole book of them, which I’ll be posting every Wednesday. I wrote this one while at a summer bandshell concert in Buzzards Bay.
I wanna meet this guy who was standing alone making gyrations….hahaha…Honestly I’ve never been one to rush out and read poetry, but that was GREAT! So you have a whole notebook full of these? YESSSSSSSSS
You don’t think he was Amish, do you?
Yay Wendy! Thanks for doing this! The subject of the poem is likely a male, but not necessarily? Could be Michael Jackson, huh?
He probably was Amish now that we know what the Amish are capable of.
Damn straight we know what can happen when they get their rumspringa on!
@ Wendy: See, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of, people recognizing themselves or someone else.
I wouldn’t worry about that. There are plenty of cosmic dancers at summer bandshells all over the world.
Besides, you’re not saying anything bad or false. You’re reporting the scene as you saw it. No one can fault your opinion. They don’t have to agree but that’s because they didn’t see it from your vantage.
I wrote a serious piece about a drug addict that was actually about an alcoholic (one day I was at his home and he flipped out – it didn’t have anything to do with me but he knew better than to threaten his brothers – so he told me he was going to stab me. So asked me to wait while he went to get the knife. His brothers and I laughed). When I showed it to him he was appalled. At the drug addicts behavior even though each scene I wrote was something he’d done. No one could convince him it was a thinly veiled story about him. People see what they want to see about themselves on many occasions.
@ Wendy: Especially when I get to my series titled: You And Your Fucking Friends. (And I don’t mean you or your friends, CZ)
That’s fucking friends to you, Ms. Wendy!
You assume I have friends. I see it more as people who are polite around me for fear they’re recognize themselves in my writing.
Thinly veiled though it may be.
i’m over here snappin’ for you!! can you hear me snappin’??