Sunday, October 30, 2011

Petty Poetry

I mentioned recently that I had been perusing my old blogs. From 2003 to 2005, I wrote for myself and only myself. I was inspired by Angelina, a blogger I didn't know then and a blogger whose existence continues (I just refound her blog TODAY!); you can hear it in my tone, I wanted to be her.

What I also wanted to be was in love. And as most teens are wont to do, I wrote poetry about it. Here are a bunch of poems I posted—they are strangely palatable after all of these years. Maybe that means they're actually good.

Poor party girl, her party was crashed when he walked out.
Even when the music played, she didn't feel like dancing.
She crossed the room, sat down in her chair and said
"How can I get him back? Not even my pretty party dress impressed him."
Poor party girl
The party ended, everyone bolted. Poor party girl was left cold and
Without a friend to help her pick up the pieces.
She picked up the phone, he wasn't home and she said
"How can I get you back? I think I've changed enough by now."
Poor party girl hasn't got a clue.
If he wanted to party, he would have just stayed
Instead of heading to the mall arcade.
He was sick of the games he thought she played
And went off to find something easier.
Poor party girl
It was time for bed and when thoughts rushed to her head
Of all of the things she could have done better,
She saw his sweater. And she was going to keep it because she knew he would need it
For all of those cold nights to come.
That party girl threw herself a party in her dreams
While party boy sucked his thumb.


Tonight I was thanked for my patience and told that I was loved.
I wanted to be thanked for my love and told that I was Patience.


I’m sick of the whole love thing but not because of all the clunkers and punks.
It’s just all I talk about all day long long long.
I’ll pick up a hobby, swing at a few pitches or quilt fancy stitches.
Isn’t that what girls do? Miss independent is coming out again.
But little miss me will come back eventually, buddy buddy with being in love.
It’s inevitable, incredible, and more comical than I’d like to think.
And I do like to think. 
If I took it slow, it’d be a miracle. Can’t get it into my thick head that someday
it’ll all come back to us and I’ll be left standing, saying it’s what I wanted then.
And I’ve always been a believer in being 100 percent all the time. And I have been, which has been fine.
Live and learn, even though you’ve been burned. I want to backtrack, mix and match.
And when I’m in a good mood, I shine.


You should let me love you.
It would be a walk in the park and sky diving off Mount Everest.
I promise I don't bite, but I might pinch you.
Just a little.
And you know it would be sixteen feet tall on any given day;
twenty when I have good dreams.
There are plenty of So Whats walking around today -
I want you to be my How Can I Not.


It’s times like these, boy.
Minutes where we remember our very best.
And we can barely see anyone else;
You’re standing in their way.
So am I.

You and me, eye to eye.
Can’t get past each other
Or is it that we won’t.
A middle ground gray.
Whatever we felt then, we feel now.
But stronger.

Eye to eye, shoulder to shoulder.
Not one boy or girl is measuring up
To our very best man and woman.
We stare into memories built.
Remembering when we stood across eye to eye
And together shoulder to shoulder.
Or thousands of miles apart.

But these minutes pass.
We go along our ways.
But those times when we stood eye to eye—
Oh my.
It has been a wonder.


  1. oh you. hello you. this touches me like you wouldn't believe. i've been wanting to recollect retro entries and make some sort of snapshot of the 6 months of delirium and brilliance we all shared.

    send me a note if you'd be interested?