Old Poetry I – Above The Forest
Back in the day, when I was about twenty-two and a bit later, ’til about twenty-six, I wrote poetry. I haven’t written a real poem in a very long time. I used to be so into poem writing that I would go to “open-mics” and read my poems with my friend and brief-boyfriend Calvin. Calvin was significantly older than me, and unfortunately, the relationship didn’t quite work out on my end.
Calvin and I would go to the Mercury Café in Denver and read poetry, and we’d also go to a place called the Kasbah. What’s interesting about that is that Calvin and I were two white gay guys, and the Kasbah (or Casbah) was a mainly African-American lounge that had a poetry night. So we’d show up and we’d be the only two gay white guys amidst a see of strong black poets. It was a little bit daunting.
Of course, I decided to try my hand at being a “spoken word” artist and composed a SUPER long poem. I tried to pull it off and I was clapped offstage (or played offstage) at both the Mercury and the Kasbah… very embarrassing. After that, and the fact there was a shooting at the Kasbah one night I didn’t go, and my interest in open-mic’ing kinda died out.
I used to host all my poetry, both good and bad, on my website, but it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I’ve decided to, after approximately fourteen years, reshare the poetry that I wrote as a teenager and young adult.
Some of it is cringe, and some of it’s not quite so bad. You be the judge.
The first poem lined up is:
Above The Forest
Through every forest, Above the trees, I am searching for you, Please show yourself to me, You are an enigma, In my eyes, each detail I cram, Like a test of my demise, I'm growing ever closer to you, As I write you letters, In chapters, We set up websites, To talk to each other. I'm beginning to think, Because your favorite color is green, It's kind of creepy, Because his favorite color is yours, And how your name matches his, And how you look kind of like him, I know you are you, And I know he is he, It's just kind of funny, Almost like destiny. What wonders are there for us, As we continue down this road, I've never felt this way before, Everyone I've liked has never liked me back, At least not like this. I dream of when we'll meet, While I listen to Kurt Cobain, A sit and lie, and anticipate.
Personally, I’m going to file this one in the cringe category. It’s almost a poem, but it’s more just a meandering thought process caught at a particular time. Besides, whatever, or whomever, this poem was going on about turned out to not really be anything.
Stay tuned for Old Poetry II