Sunday, September 6, 2009

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).

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.

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
and he says

“in the beginning
things weren’t all that different

I remember
…I remember

Molly would play with
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

funny, hunh?

I’m still here
and everything else is fading away
but it was all so


Next is a poem I don't really remember much of, I just chose it at random.


the age of restlessness
bitten upon me and
I am here for
nothing can
ever be.
the last time I rode a bicycle
in eleventh grade; the sky
wonderful in that
silvery age.
far gone. away.
all girls
have come to eat up
good soul.

sixty seconds, all is lost. I will
climb out of my bedroom window and
is all that is left
an adventurer
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

we roll across plains of humanity
unknown and
all my life I’ve just been
trying to shine. to smile.
to escape.

part two coming soon...

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