Bad Poetry from my Youth #2

Never Go Back

You can never go back
except for when you do.

Her eyes still kiss his
softly, secret — never ends
A vision of youth
ten years fade — never werer.
Lines grow lighter, lighter,
love is young, and bold, and proud…
reborn.

Hairline stretech, reaches forward
(afro blowing in the wind)
stretch marks fading, disappearing
green eyes shyly, brightly,
burn.

Now she stands, ever lovely,
eighteen still and twenty yon.
Taller, standing
(or he’s mistaken)
now sure, is she, that
broken hearts can be forgotten
shallow tears make this one sweet.

Her eyes still kiss him
tall and strong
and young and proud
musician’s hands
and a sinner’s smile.

She blames herself
for their transgressions
sees him through unworthy eyes
beauty inner, outer, ever
standing here,
without disguise.

2 Comments

  1. JunkChuck says:

    I started my blog as a whimsical attempt to throw out some old pomes, but it quickly became horrifying. I’m talking that I had this idea of writing Hemingwayesque verse, but I had this new alterna-groove for Laurie Anderson going and hell, I was 17 and I’d barely read any poetry to even figure out what it was about. Ugh. I have an inch-thick folder of really horrible stuff hand-typed on that weird old onion skin typewriter paper and…yech. If this is your bad poetry, you’re not doing too terribly.

    1. Oh no. So far, this is the bad stuff I’m not too ashamed to even post. I think I need to throw some of my HUGE pile of crap out there. Some of it, you can’t even tell it’s a poem. It’s like random words or rants of broken prose.

      I was 23, and had no clue what good poetry was. When I finally started reading some, I quit out of embarrassment for a while. 🙂

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