My teenage diary is stuffed with poetry and big angry writing, plus I had notebooks of random thoughts and quotes and lists of things I liked and hated, so it was really hard to choose something really bad. Most of it is standard alienation-themed drivel, like a poem about a guy walking by himself through the snow or bums drinking from paper bags on sidewalk with their tears falling in etc.
I read Sassy magazine (circa 1992), liked drama and art class, and had this huge crush on this skater guy. I really, really liked the skater types in general (ooh, rebellious) and this guy was like my dream man. I wrote a lot of poems for him lamenting our missed love connection, but by grade 11 I was giving up hope of him ever being my boyfriend or of being popular in general. Still, when he paid attention to me by playfully borrowing my supplies in art class or smiling that (still) killer smile, my hope would return, then turn into the despair that fueled free verse masterpieces like this one:
Can't you see I'm crying?
I'm crumbling
within the four walls
of my haven.
You don't see, you don't want
to see me shatter.
It will soon amuse you
as I take on
proportions of a circus
freakshow.
I silently cry and beg you
to notice me
care
that's all I hope.
Please, I cannot ask you.
It's a charade, you know.
Through the wire that connects us
distortion changes me
happy
act, it's what I've been trained to do.
So you cannot see
how I cry out,
and hope.
Created: November 1992
By: Christine Dahlo
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment