Verse for the Worse?
Tonight I took a trip down memory lane. Many years ago, my father gave me a black briefcase that I assigned the special role of Custodian of Priceless Artifacts. Over the years, it served as my treasure chest of special notes, letters and other odds and ends. It's a bizarre time capsule that holds little artifacts from my childhood through to my twenties. I'd stopped adding things to that briefcase years ago and it's been a few years since I'd last delved into it for an indulgent trip back in time. It was so nice to revisit earlier eras of my life and it gave me some perspective about the life I lead today. I may at times feel disgruntled about the present, but when I look back at my earlier years of innocence, insecurity, indecisiveness ...and restlessness (okay, I still possess that) I'm made to realize that things are actually pretty fine. Being young has many advantages, but being older, wiser and more established can be pretty darn good too. Maybe even better.
Anyway, one of the things I rediscovered in my little black briefcase was an envelope stuffed with a bunch of poems I'd written in my late teens/early twenties. My creative contribution to this blog posting will be one of these poems. Here it is:
"Restless Soul"
I lie awake with thoughts still churning,
My restless soul keeping sleep at bay,
I know not what it is that I'm yearning,
My patience is beginning to fray. Frustration builds, yet I know not why,
My agitation I can not place,
These feelings are quite hard to deny,
And solid logic I can not trace.
I'm a woman who ponders too much,
Upon things that others ignore,
To wisps of dreams I constantly clutch,
And I am always questing for more.
Perhaps this trait belonging to me,
Is an integral part of my soul,
To realize hopes and dreams is the key,
So I may finally become whole.
The most I can do is bide my time,
And make an effort to shape my fate,
My road to success an upward climb,
How long for fulfillment must I wait?
I wrote that on September 3rd, 1993. I was 21 at the time; full of angst and longing and in prime bad-poetry-writing state-of-mind. :)
Labels: poetry
posted by Kay Darby @ 9/04/2006 12:33:00 AM
2 Comments:
not the worst of verse. you should have seen some of my angst-ridden poetry when i was in my late teens and early twenties...sometimes the searching never stops, although the poetry usually does. and I for one, have not interest in being 21 again.
I couldn't have agreed with you more my friend. 21 was a painful/hopeful time in my life. It was a truly character-forming era, but one I wouldn't be hasty to revisit.
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