A Writer’s Adolescence

So, my husband just went to Indiana to collect all the stuff we left (with relatives and in our garage) when we moved to Oklahoma. One of the items was a big trunk with my… we’ll call it my creative past. Journals, papers from college, and especially stacks of poetry I wrote in highschool and college. Thought I would share one these “gems” with you:

My Love
But soft who shelters in that most holy door-frame of the sun?
Thou virtuous heart bestoweth on me a love kindled upon a winter’s eve
Thy book is open and yieldeth into the light thy passage of choice
Where fair hearts betwixt them groweth flowers of medieval age
Thy forest groweth in thee
By the river do I stand in thy shadow wilst the sun burneth down on my head
We, a solemn couple, hold each other in one passion filled embrace
Thy lips warmeth my soul and kiss the holy spirit
that dwelleth in thy heart
Thy eyes pierce mine own and filleth the loneliest of voids
Twill not die in thy breast
One sweet time for thou
Becometh that most perfect self that thou wishesth to be
If thy heart liveth beyond me forget not those summer days in the hazy dawn
Thy cheek white as the snow and thy hair darker than jet
sleep in repose under the most holy sky
In thy soul lieth thy strength
Thy words become thy sword
defend not me but thyself and the quest thou pursues
Bequeath thy love on only those who love thee for thee
and minister to thy being in thee my love

Do NOT ask me what the heck this means or what my state of mind was. I didn’t do drugs in high school so I certainly cannot blame the above poem on an altered state of mind. It makes me both giggle and blush to think I showed this to anyone, hoping he/she would tell me how good it was. And there are STACKS of poems from this time period. This is probably the most overwrought, but they are all pretty melodramatic and nonsensical. I guess that is just what young writers do as they explore the language and how ideas fit together. Still… *shudder*

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