Friday, 22 May 2009

  • Twenty year old poems

    Last night I found a bunch of journals -- maybe all of my journals -- from when I was in college, and decided to look through them. I was a talented 20-year old, with all of the same hang-ups I have today but with 95% less responsibility.
    In a journal from the end of 1988, I found a couple of poems I think are worth sharing here. There were written with a pink pen, so I've tried to match it here.

    Self-love
    When I look in the mirror
    now
    I know I'll never match the Barbie doll &
    height-weight chart
    image of my former fantasy life
    because what I am
    is beautiful
    what I am
    is.
    I see the well rounded body of
    a 20 year old product
    of years of wanting
    to be
    someone
    else. And considering
    I'm still me,
    there isn't really anything
    to indicate that this
    body is not a
    perfectly wonderful body
    that houses a quite
    capable and
    eccentric mind.
    This short and wide self
    that I thought was a lowly
    shrub
    rather than a graceful
    tree
    is actually not lowly but
    magnificent
    in it's shrubbiness
    with bushy hair, quite healthy
    and strong branches
    sturdy limbs and a
    quite handsome trunk
    a tree not dwarfed
    for it was never meant to be a
    willow
    or a
    sycamore
    but a
    flowering jade or
    pink petaled hawthorne.

    (this next one doesn't have a title)

    I wish
         upon a
              frog prince
                   and a wishbone
                        and thousands of birthday candles
                             that I were
                                  a
                                     desirable fairy
                                          princess
    with flowing hair some color other than mine
         and clear skin and
              a lithe, slender form
                   and no perceptible
                       imperfections
                           so contradictory to my present state
                               of
                                  imperfection

    After which, I've written this, in huge pink letters:

    ANGRY
    I AM
    ANGRY!!!

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