Thursday, April 23, 2009

Sensitivity and perception?

Recently while cleaning out some old boxes, I came across my scrapbook from high school. Yes...way, way before the scrap booking craze. No fancy borders or cutesy flowers. Just pictures, articles, programs, etc. scotch taped very haphazardly into a big ledger.

In my junior year the school started a creative writing class for handpicked students. I'm not sure what the criteria was for selection, but I was very excited to be chosen. It meant I would be in a class that was half seniors. In the day that was a very big deal.

It seems we had an assignment to write poetry and somehow a couple of my creations got published in the local newspaper. Reading back over them now, I've decided that I was a sad mixture of pretentious and weird.

Continuing with the theme of smiling (or laughing out loud), I'm offering up my early work to the blogosphere.


Life is but a carousel
where the world seems to go around.
But it's not the world --
it's we.

Some of our riders are light
and easy to bear;
Others are heavy --
they burden us with grief.

We must carry our passengers
and appreciate our joys,
for soon the carousel will go
no more.


I ride my pony swift and fast,
but I cannot escape
from savages who challenge me
and shoot and stab and rape.

My hour has come, and death I fear
will soon make dust of me.
It's closing in!
It's getting near!
Oh, God, help me to flee.

I fell it hit my body now;
it pierces swift and fast,
and where I see it clear --
the flag is at half mast.

It's very dark now where I am,
but do not mourn for me.
For fear has gone far, far away,
and I am finally free.

Eeegads. It's even more mortifying when I type it out and reread it. Something about seeing it in newsprint made it appear less embarrassing. For what it's worth, here is what the paper said about the poems.

Pyzahn, a junior in the Creative Writing class, is one of the students who shows great promise. Her pair of poems, "Life" and "Death" exhibit sensitivity and perception as well as a competence in the use of words and phrases.

I swear the "critic" was not my mother.

Please feel free to share your poetic masterpieces here.


sallymandy said...

Lovely, Pyzahn! These are beautiful words from a wise young girl on her way to becoming a fabulosa she-blogger. I loved them. Happy Friday.

Anonymous said...

Yeesh. My zombie poem does NOT hold a candle to your lovely poems!


Joanne said...

I agree with the powers that be who wrote the crit, when I think back to my high school days I would have been proud to hand those 2 in!

distracted by shiny objects said...

Now, Pyzahn...the critic failed to mention you showed "great promise" at what...:>)
What great treasures to come across. Keep them coming!!

ds said...

"Pretentious and weird"?! No. Perceptive, receptive and articulate. So, where are the rest of them...and I do not mean from high school.Do keep them coming, please.

Anonymous said...

Well written - wisdom beyond your young years. :) Here's one I wrote as a very young man:

"This Woman"

There's a tear on your original face.

It caused your vision to prism, seeing-

Colorful cascades and masterful parades.

So you joined the charade, with

limerick lips and merry-go-hips

and fell prone to the intimate posture.

This trips needs lubrication.

A single,



of moisture.

Lola said...

These are great, Patrizia Pazzerella Paloosa! You were a very focused teenager, and one with a very far reaching sight.

I wonder why, at around that age, we felt that urge to go poetic? Something hormonal driving us, perhaps?

I had it too, I wrote Leopardian odes to my depression. I was 17, unaware of my carefree existence and beauty. Why was I so unhappy?

Have a great weekend.

Lover of Life said...

A poet, I am not. But you were pretty talented for a high-schooler!

Pyzahn said...

Me thinks you are all too kind!

Thanks for stopping by and being nice to a wannabe poet.

Anonymous said...

Ah yes, the early works. I keep everything I write. At times I can't believe the stuff I wrote...but sometimes there is gold in the river.

These are definitely the gold in the river of your past.

Kathleen said...

Brave woman, you!

I LOVE the atistry of teens. There's a rich raw quality to their work that gets lost as we soften up. Don't get me wrong. I think we have to soften up to survive the viccissitudes of life. But I always treasure the artistic endeavors of our young people. Reminds me of the Himalayas, young and challenging.

Had I been the reviewer, I'd have said: "Brilliant! Keep an eye on this one!" And I'd have been right.

Thanks for sharing.

SpookyRach said...

For a high school poem, those are not bad at all!

Laughing about the critic not being your mother...

apriliniowa said...

I began placing poems (and photographs) randomly in my books as a teenager so it never fails to surprise me when I land upon an old verse written in the height of my teen angst many years later by surprise. Or worse, a photograph of myself dressed as a whale for beach night at the ripe age of 15. Thanks for sharing yours, in other words. & for stopping by my little blog. Hope this finds you well. :)

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