we now take a break from our regularly scheduled poetic program...part one
Hey fellows, I was reorganizing my writing files and decided I'd post one poem from every year that I have on my computer. Enjoy (and boy, sometimes looking at old stuff can be really embarrassing; hopefully we're all good enough writers now that we can smile at it instead of cry).
2002 First we have a poem I wrote for a poetry class. The assignment was to write in the style of a famous poet. This one is based on William Carlos William's style (one of my favorite poets!).
It was in winter – probably – she came walking by in a purple coat.
Can you imagine?
Her arm stretched out too much - she must have had a lot of purpose in her mind.
But she marched past me, no reason for us to speak.
Why should strangers converse about purple anyway? What would I have said?
Next we have a bio I wrote for a zine that never happened. The zine was going to be done by myself and some friends in Charleston, SC, and it was called 'The New City Set.' Unfortunately, we kind of all lost interest in it (and to our inexperienced selves, it seemed very daunting).
Christopher Savage dreams of tall steel buildings with bright lights and waits for someone happy to shout out loud. His favorite thing is hope and his strengths and weaknesses are still optimism and impatience. When he gets old, he’ll be invisible to all the negatives of a dried up world.
2004 Here is a poem from one of my very first serialized sets of poems. The first set was called 'City Times,' the next set was 'Wonder Times,' and this one is called 'Personal Times.' Way back in these days I would try to empathize a style I wasn't using in other poems with each series. 'Personal Times,' features the use of quotation marks and speaking through the characters.
Personal Times 1
Vincent Obtuse is the father of time and he says ,
“in the beginning , things weren’t all that different .
I remember …I remember
Molly would play with Rebecca , in the noonday sun
and they’d act like they were dandelions blowing around , twirling their arms freely .
Yeah I remember that ,
like it was yesterday .
But now it’s the end ,
I’m still here and everything else is fading away ; but it was all so beautiful.”
Next is a poem I don't really remember much of, I just chose it at random.
the age of restlessness has bitten upon me and I am here for as nothing can ever be. the last time I rode a bicycle was in eleventh grade; the sky was wonderful in that silvery age. but far gone. away. all girls have come to eat up my good soul. and now,
meltdown. in sixty seconds, all is lost. I will climb out of my bedroom window and escape. It is all that is left for an adventurer and his lonely will.
I write tonight with eyes closed and trust close behind, stalking me. it is not you and I, perfection, it isn’t in anything we’ll ever know. grow up already.
we roll across plains of humanity unknown and forever unbound. all my life I’ve just been trying to shine. to smile. and to escape.