Here is the latest installment of 1980’s teenage angst in this week’s edition of Poetry Corner. For your enjoyment I offer up this beauty written in December of 1987. I was in 11th grade and spent a lot of time daydreaming about boys, wondering what was wrong with me, and arguing with my parents, especially my dad. We just did not get along. Frankly I don’t know what kind of relationship we have today. Anyway, this poem is a reflection of how I felt about it at the time, as a 16 year old girl.
At one end of the table
He sat,
Cold and condemning.
Cursing all she represents,
Not caring about
her feelings.
An elbow’s length away
from her
She was so very near
And yet she was so
Far away.
The distance between
them seemed
farther than any-
wider than any-
deeper than any.
Beauty, his daughter
sat with him, the
Beast,
And made him hate
her all the more.
EAB
December 3, 1987
See how I was trying to get trixy with the staggered lines? There was this art/goth chick in my creative writing class and her stuff was so good that I wanted to be like her. Her poems were set up like that so I thought in order to be good I needed to do that too. I carried that with me for a while. **sigh**I was such a poser…a Madonna wannabe and a poser. What a combo….
I actually really think this is a good poem, Evie.
I can definately relate to the 16 year old you (and the current you)and your struggles with your dad.
I think it is cool that you are sharing this portrait into your past.
Hey, thanks a lot Marin! It’s really nice of you to say that.
You know, my relationship with my dad is tough. We are not close but I know if I need something he would move heaven and earth to try and help me. The only thing is that the help comes with so many emotionally charged strings attached that I hate to ask for help. You know what I mean? It’s strained at times because of the hurtful, I mean, helpful comments he makes.
What I find interesting is that, as you pointed out, I still feel the way I did when I was 16.
Thanks for saying you think it’s good. You made me smile this morning!
I was going to make a comment – at your first poetry post – about how mine were all about tragedy and nonconformity, (sadly, I’ve lost them all in my gypsy-rebellious youth) but I didn’t want to make it about me.
This poem shows me that though styles may be different – a Prep(?) vs. a Punk, (though it was always about Peace, never about War) it shows that we’re all the same on the inside.
The issue might be different, but I always believed then, and this demonstrates, that inside we’re all the same.
Rambling, sorry.
Mean to say that this poem is something we can all understand and relate to, and I like, appreciate, and respect it.
xo
Stephanie,
Once upon a time, I was commenting on this really nice chick’s blog and I made the comment that I was sorry I had made her post all about me. She, being a very wise woman, said “Isn’t that what these are for?” 🙂
Make it about you girl, that’s what I put this stuff out there for! LOL
That said, I’m glad you were able to relate to it. We all went through emotional things like this when we were younger and for some it was helpful to write it all down. I, being a tragic hoarder,kept most of my “poems” and have even kept all my pictures from Teen Bop magazine….THAT should tell you a little something about me.
Anyhoo, thanks for your comment, friend. Always appreciated!
Evie