Hey There Little Girl (1987: Age 16)

February 23, 1987

Hey there little girl
Standing by the sea wall
Don’t you know that
The tide isn’t due for hours?
I don’t want to see you
With tears in your eyes,
You deserve so much more.

So raise your head
Brighten your eyes
It is not hard to try.
All you need is a smile
That is what I have to give.

Hey there little girl
With the broken China doll
Don’t you know that
You are breaking more than the doll?
I don’t want to see you
With tears in your blue eyes,
You deserve so much more.

So raise your head
Brighten your eyes
I give you my smile
For you to return,
It is what you need.

Little girl,
Hey there little girl
Do not let those tears
Run down your blushed cheeks.
If they begin to fall
Call out for me
I will wipe your eyes.

I love you little girl,
I love you.

This poem was written for a friend, E, with her and a couple of other friends, we started a writing group at my high school with Mr. T. I recall her having a difficult relationship with her father and this poem was written to express my desire to offer her strength and support. Kind of feels like a foreshadowing of the Go Dog Go Cafe, in a way, now that I look back on it and recall that inspiration. She left for a private school in Massachusetts at the end of this school year and we kept in touch for a time, but now she is lost to time, moves, and the vagaries of life – even Facebook has not restored her to my life and I often wonder where she is and about her health. About 20 years ago, we got back in touch and she mentioned to me that she had been sick, maybe had had cancer that was in remission. It brings a sadness to my heart to admit my part in the failure of our friendship, she was a very dear friend, and one of the first who helped me embrace my writing.

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

1985: https://sailorpoet.com/2017/02/10/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

1986: https://sailorpoet.com/2017/03/21/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/

Peaking Through Chrysalis (with Spoken Word)

The butterfly lives
Just
The right
Length
Of time.

(Don’t we all?)

Now we are two butterflies,
Peaking through chrysalis
At a world we once ate
Now we are to pollinate.
Our eyes see God in flowers.
Our flesh carries seeds.
We stick to one another.
We have become:

A world
I cannot imagine
Without you.

Two butterflies
Dancing on air
As was
Certain.

With a nod to Tom Robbins’ Another Roadside Attraction

A Magic Moment (1987: Age 17)

April 2, 1987

Our eyes meet.

There is Magic-
A magic moment.

Our eyes dart away.

I wonder-
What is Magic?

Our eyes meet again.

There is the answer-
The magic of love.

Never look away.

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/05/08/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/06/14/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/

Blow Away the Smoke

When last seen, the smoke had settled on the water

He looked up at the fire ball screaming across the sky

Hoping it would soon end.  Night had become day,

Day had become night and he was left sorting stars.

 

This one tells the story of a dolphin dancing in the surf

This one tells the story of our hunter Orion and his aegis

This one tells the story of a mother chained for her beauty

This one tells the story of…

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Stars, Memories, and Stories

Asked to describe the night sky
He recognized his deficiency
Not knowing summer’s stars
As he knew winter’s,
As if as a child,
Busy playing,
He failed to look up
At gifts awaiting him:
Myths and legends,
History of the universe
Slowly told by fading giants
Sending their stories
Through vast space
To his imagination awaiting them
On this verdant planet alone
Needing to tell tales
Nowhere else told.

Now they are clues for him
To be alone in the telling,
Truly alone,
An alone he once feared,
An alone he now embraces
Like that child embraced play
So inside the moment it forgot
To be remembered
And was better for the forgetting.

Venus shines brightest,
As always,
Gently reminding him of the sun
Now lighting the play of children
Forgetting to save memories
In other hemispheres
Happy,
As only children know.

The city is close enough
Its vast and arrogant lights
Hide the full story,
Though hints remain:
Like treasure hunts,
A glitter here,
A twinkle there.

He thought of Odysseus
Navigating the turbulent rage of Poseidon
By their lights
To return home to Penelope
Faithful weaver and unweaver of cloth
She’d only finish when his ship’s mast
Pointed to the sky that awaited them
Two old souls
At the end of their journey
Meant to sit together
Counting stars to measure love
Limitless, like the journey of a life
Lived inside the safety of hearts
That only know a story children can tell
Playing together
Memories forgotten
And better off for it.

Some nights fireflies
Are more than enough
Like tonight
Walking alone
His way finally lit.

Image: John William Waterhouse – Ulysses and the Sirens (1891)

Notice Me, Little Things

“Notice me,”
Little things say,
“Fit me,
Somewhere.”

“You will fit
Somewhere,”
I whisper,
“Notice me.”

Tiny fragments of sea shells
Once perfect for collectors
Now inhabit the sand
The Sea’s metamorphosis
Perfection for this moment
Not needing to be picked
Not needing to be paraded
Alongside perfect conches
Needing to be seen
Needing to be known
If only for this moment.

Smooth purple rings exposed
Underneath the surface
Show a structure strong,
Endured, now on the surface
Stating their presence.

I know where
You will fit:
Beside me
On the sand

Among friends
Ground down
Not to nothing
But into earth

Hold us up
“You do,”
Whispers
“I do.”

Listened to the Lion

Lion, what roar remains inside your love?
We shall not be contained by the cages
Built around our souls, as if they’d define
Meaning inside the love we were bound.

No longer over the falls falling the tears
I hear the lion roar inside of me: “Love!”
So our souls build around us definition
Binding us to meaning, life still to live.

My voice:

Once upon a time, a version of me would have told you my favorite song was Into the Mystic by Van Morrison, and then my life began to change in ways unanticipated and a new song emerged that spoke to a deeper part of my soul needing to find its way into the world. I think the words above express something from that part of me. Song of the Week: Listen to the Lion, Van Morrison.

Artwork: Funky Lion Roar by Sarajevo2707
Funky lion roar

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A Love Song

Why should we not touch our souls
With one bow and hear
Separate strings sing one melody,
One voice to dive into
An echo
Between hills carved by Masters
Who could not have known of us?

Somehow,
They began our song
Before words stirred our tongues
Like a kiss
Born inside
A flower pushing up through dirt
To follow the path of Apollo

Its pedals,
Dripping with dew,
Swallow one ray of light.
Lips trembling,
At last,
Strong enough
For Love.  

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