I started off the New Year today by purging my room at home of clutter. I am very sentimental and therefore a notorious pack-rat. I found every piece of paper I was ever given during my senior year of high school under my bed today. I thought I would want to look back and reminisce or something, ya know. They are in my recycling bin now.
I did keep certain findings, however. In my extreme sentimentality, I have never thrown away one scrap of paper I have ever written on. I rediscovered poems and writings from high school that express my teenage angst or tell a story or just ask a series of unanswered questions or capture an imagined scene in rhyme.
I thought I'd share some of these. Enjoy.
8th grade English assignment. Got extra credit.
You have to read it out loud in a pirate voice for it to be fun.
Ode to Pirates
Pirates lead
wonderful lives
of hoisting anchors,
cannons, and knives.
Scallywaggers,
swab the deck!
O, wonderful captain,
shall ne'r thee wreck.
So much
incredible treasure,
plunder, and booty:
too much to measure.
Pirates have
such joy in life
with swearing and killing,
but no guilt nor strife.
And without their effects,
what would a pirate be?
A gun, a sword,
I'm a better pirate than Mr. Smee!
If I were a pirate,
what fun I would have!
I would get dreadlocks, a tattoo,
and ne'r take a bath.
In the vast ocean below,
there only be one thing ye see:
it be the ne'rending sky
that leads me to my peg-legged knee.
I look to the heavens,
a tear in me eye,
and thank Him above
for letting a pirate be I.
Answer me now,
what reasons have thee
for refusing the honor
of...piracy?
Junior year Creative Writing assignment.
Clearly before I read the details of the Samson and Delilah story.
Cut the Power
I am the girl who cut off the power.
I took a sharp blade and hacked and chopped.
I sliced at the chords that gave him strength.
It was not my intention to do this evil,
I did the deed and it was done.
And I said, "It is finished."
I am the girl who, out of spite,
and in the moment, pure delight,
cut the power from his head.
He left the room, walked out the door,
and from his eyes the tears did pour.
The strength that God so graciously gave,
was gone from his body, gone as the grave.
Untitled
It is you I love and you I hate. For you are the sun in my darkening sky and yet there is still no light. The darkness lives, and the twilights that I loved so dearly once, that now taunt my love for you, are now my worst enemy. If the love that you give to all creatures shall be mine at last, send to me a sunrise, that I may look upon the rays of your flesh and be blinded by the love in your eyes. may our hearts be at last joined to one, and our fingers interlocked for all of time. Be not the moon, which is so inconstant and gives not enough light for use, but the sun, in which I will bask so joyfully. May I be a flower on the earth that you warm and may my love, like a flower, grow in the sunshine that is your love, if it is not an impossibility. Woe to those who do not live on the earth of the flower, for they do not know the power that you possess. If you wish to woo others, then let your light shine on them. Leave me in the dark shadows of the moon. But know this--no other flower or tree or shrub will know your colorful love, which you spread throughout my earth to nourish my soul. It is you, O Sun, that keeps me alive when the moon comes after my heart. I soak in all of your goodness by day so that, when day separates from night, I may be glad to know that life is in me during your absence. O Sun, O Star, O Mountain, whatever is your name: do not stray from your true love; for it is love I am and your love I shall be from now until the earth meets its end. Amen.
I wrote this during a Creative Writing class; I did not like my teacher and apparently wanted to express the worthlessness of that day's lesson.
Not Worth the Effort
As I write this poem,
I feel despair.
This pain in my neck
and under my hair
keeps me from creating
such rhymes as I need,
the rules of transcribing
I no longer heed.
And so I sit
in desperation.
Look...there goes
my concentration.
Music in the Meadow
The wind tapped me on the shoulder and asked,
"May I have this dance?"
I curtseyed gracefully and took his hand;
the dance was one of sweet romance.
The woodwinds soothing melodies
were heard from the ancient forest,
and the birds that flew among the clouds
provided a harmonious chorus.
Twilight came, the dance was done.
I curtseyed once again
and promised that we'd dance another time;
yes, even to the drumming of the rain.
Untitled
I see what you wish I would not. I see your fear, your pain, your confusion. You try to hide them--oh, yes, you try. Chin held high, you look at me with freezing eyes--you make believe they are not there, yet I know. You wish I would not see right through you, into your soul, yet I do. You forget the power I have. You forget that I see you cry into unGodly hours. I know in your heart these nights are not so unGodly. You know I hold fast to your hand as you wander. You wander many hours, yet I am there, piecing together the questions of your heart. Although you close your heart to love, mine is open to you. When you decide to open your blinded eyes, through which I see clearly, to my love, my Love, I will be with you. I will always be with you, though you will not see me (or maybe you will). Until your last, sweet breath brings you to me for eternity.
Until then, my Love.
Peace Creators
Everything your hand has created is pure.
Peace, Love, and Truth give us life for sure.
Yet we go on ripping and tearing and gnashing
until you can hear our hearts burning and crashing.
If there is peace in this world,
we find a way to make a war.
If there is Love in this world,
we act so it exists no more.
If there is Truth in this world,
our tongues form the hateful lies.
It's no wonder that my brother cries
Where's the reparation? When will you arrive?
So much anticipation, wondering how we will survive.
Living in a broken place,
longing for your perfect grace.
Father, come down from above,
clean us with your unbroken Love.
This is not how we were created,
clarification comes belated.
We waste time and ignore Him
when we should kneel before Him.
He says:
"You break because you're broken.
Listen to the words I've spoken.
Come to me, my blood I pour
so you'll be broken no more."
Now we know:
Our purpose He did establish
so now all that I can wish
is to give life to this land
carry out His great plan.
So now I call on my brothers,
Let us all become lovers
instead of fighters and haters,
Let us be peace creators.
And God we know until you come
The fight will never end
Until that day to you, my Lord,
my life I do extend
Thank you for showing me
a Love I know will never end.
It was a great way to begin the new year. Finding my old writings was like having a conversations with myself 4 or 5 years ago. I share many of the same qualities as her still, though much has changed. She questioned and feared so much that it was paralyzing to her soul, although she played the part of a carefree young girl. I question, though I do not fear anymore. She thought God wanted her to carry the weight of her world alone; I know that I am not expected nor able to do so. Can you imagine having the opportunity to talk to yourself 5 years in the past, like when Scrooge is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come? I would tell her what I know now, what I have learned since then. But I have learned in good time, because I have learned in His time.
So, having looked back, I now look forward. I look forward to discovering more about myself and my Creator. I look forward to hearing the sweet whisper of his still small voice in my ear, telling me which direction to take my life. I look forward to what the Lord, the One I trust above all, has in store for my life.
Yours,
Micaela