This was me:
curls briefly permanent,
my pen poised on your promises
recording adoration,
lists of lingering longings,
the angst of my adolescence,
my imaginary reality,
of dreams carved from your
calls and letters.
Feeling freely at fifteen,
that was me.
..
I had written a lot of poetry for and about a boy I admired, and for his 18th birthday, I compiled them all into a book, in calligraphy, each was recorded in a blank red ‘leather’ book. In the top left photo you see the calligraphy pen I used. In the top right you see the book itself on my lap. The photo on the bottom left ended up as the ‘author photo’ in the book.
These portraits were taken by a young woman who worked for my mom. Her name was Lindy, and she was from Nova Scotia. I often wonder what she has done since returned to the East Coast.
In the bottom right you can see a bit of the 4″ wedge canvas Candies I wore to death that summer. Always a shoe girl. I loved those suspender jeans (by Pulse, my favourite brand). They’re probably still in a box around here somewhere, waiting for me to be 106 lbs again. Oh, those innocent teen years when I was still a brunette! 😉
PS. The more I think about this, the more I’m sure I lied in this poem. I got that perm after a dare from Mark, whom I met the summer I was 16, so this must have been the spring / summer that I was 17. Hmm. With necessary poetic licence, I’m going to keep the ‘fifteen’ in there. But you’ll know it’s not factual, okay?
Shawn L. Bird 
I love ” curls briefly permanent” !!! And yes, Candies were “all that” !!! Thanks for sharing
lol Thanks
Every time I read a poem of yours it makes me want to go and write some more poetry. it’s your alliterated words that compel me to do more of those myself.
I like alliteration, but I also play a lot with consonance (repetition of internal consonant sounds) and assonance (repetition of internal vowel sounds). Those add a more subtle ‘music’ into a poem.
e.g.
consonance: free l y fee l ing or
d r eams ca r ved f r om you r calls and lette rs
assonance: fr ee l y f ee ling at fift ee n
(note that it’s the SOUND not the letter that’s important- y and ee are the same in this situation)
fifteen
~
since
when was I so
young
It seems like yesterday and forever ago.
so
~
true
And you grew into a literary genius plus you’re still a cutie-pie!
lol Thanks Deb.
reminds me of the poetry I used to pen in my esrly twenties. I cringe when I consider the droves of work lost in scattered notebooks, crumpled napkins, and old pharmacy reciepts. Carrying the ipad seems to combat losing thoughts. sorry, I ramble. Looking forward to exchanging views. ta-ta.
Yes, I know. I had a binder where I’d copy poetry I scratched on scraps, (ooh. That’s a nice phrase. Must use that) Now I have a few notebooks for writing scene ideas as they come to me and poetry drafts are amply represented as well.
I love your poem! The photos are sweet.
Thank you, Michelle.
And they called it puppy love. It’s a song by Donny Osmond, brought to mind by your verse. I wish a girl had been in love with me as much as you were him.
I remember the song well, and I had it sung to me many times since I fell for him at 10. By the time he was my graduation escort at 18, they had figured out there was little more to it. Still, it was not to be. The ghost of him was not exorcized for many years. In the end, writing Grace Awakening was the way to release the final emotion to memory, though as you can see, the memories still linger to make poetry.
I had a couple of boyfriends who got poetry books. I often wonder if they cherish them for the gifts they were. A heart on paper pages.
Another song comes to mind ‘The first cut is the deepest’ by Cat Stevens. This is so true. Don’t you think memory can be a blessing and a curse?
I tend to focus on the good memories, and ignore the bad ones (or re-invent them). Imagination is a blessing more powerful than the curse of bad memories. Mind you, I didn’t have any traumas or serious terrors in my life. The negative experiences in gr 8-9 at school were countered by good friends, family, and many interests outside of school. I’ve never had a horrible break up. No serious illness. No death in the immediate family (my father is 99!) It’s been a blessed life.
Reblogged this on My Blog snuppy.
It is amazing how we looked at 15 and going backwards to remember those days. It is nice when you actually wrote about things and people at the time. Like you did, like I did.
backwards and forwards
“Feeling freely at fifteen.” I love that.
I remember those days, over half a lifetime ago now…
Most of the time, they seem to be rather firmly entrenched in memory.