I’ve been looking through my poetry books again, and am finding myself touched by the girl I was at 13. I can see me waiting to burst out, but can also see all those crazy emotions of 13, all those bigger than life feelings. By 17 the poetry is a little more refined, but at 13 it’s big and bold, all loopy letters and similes. Every emotion is obvious. So just for fun, here is a poem by me, at age 13.The night is still. It’s not really black, More of a deep royal blue. No stars are out tonight, Yet the sky is quite Bright still. A definite Canadian night. I wonder if out there in the world Is another girl, 13, Who sits on her windowsill Writing poetry at night.
Some of the poetry is intensely personal, but at other times the poems are obviously influenced by books or something else, as they address people or situations not in my life. There are also lots of poems about nature — some things never change!
Just for fun, one more about skiing (also from the age 13 book).Skiing The cool snow sprays As I twist and turn On my way down the slopes. It’s like dancing, Only the music comes from Inside of me, From the rhythm of my breathing, And the drumming of my heart. What a feeling! Bombing down in control Of the world! Eyes tearing, I reach the bottom. There I wait in line To go up and experience That incredible high, Again and again.
I was trying to explain the sensation of flying that skiing gives me the other day to someone. Apparently at 13 I had that figured out. This poem I was editing in my head, perhaps later I’ll share an updated version.
Thanks for traveling down memory lane with me.