girl with no flowers
i found her in a box at
the back of a cupboard
all dust-covered and
crinkled with age
at twenty three
already thinking
life was so dim
and so perilous
so blank and filled
with dark possibility
cynical and funny
and cosmically correct
i want to hug her
pat her on the back
and say, there, there
i want to fill her
pages with platitudes
and posture and
cross out words
like bleak and barren
make notes in red
down the sides of
yellowed paper saying
ha! and really?
but instead i hold her
carefully to protect
her vulnerability and
the more i read
the more i smile
because in truth
i find myself
beginning
to fall in
love with her
a little
she gets me
.
.
.
Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!
August 14th, 2012 at 7:31 am
ah, yes.
August 14th, 2012 at 8:01 am
🙂 Beautiful…
August 14th, 2012 at 8:49 am
i’ve so been wondering how this reunion went, and suspect that flowerless girl was as happy to see you as you her. i am glad you didn’t correct her with that red pen, or second guess her. vulnerability is so needed; i’m glad she showed up to remind you and make you smile.
August 14th, 2012 at 9:07 am
What a sweet meeting; the girl with no flowers and the girl with so many. Does she like tea?
August 14th, 2012 at 11:20 am
Yes, she does like tea. 🙂
August 14th, 2012 at 9:14 am
sigh……
August 14th, 2012 at 9:48 am
sweet…
August 14th, 2012 at 10:24 am
smiles…so was it a journal you found…sounds like it..i love stumbling along on my earlier self…that you are falling in love with her again as well gave me big smiles….nice write…
August 14th, 2012 at 11:19 am
It’s actually the beginnings of a book I had started back then and completely forgotten about. A bit of fiction, a bit journal, funny to read either way.
August 14th, 2012 at 12:38 pm
Love it! I feel this way too when I read old stuff I’ve written. Great capture!! Love this write of yours.
August 14th, 2012 at 12:42 pm
i was also thinking it was an old journal.. it’s strange to find ourselves again..or what we were back then after so many years.. loved it
August 14th, 2012 at 12:45 pm
What a cool find, a hidden treasure.
August 14th, 2012 at 1:26 pm
when i come again on passages i had written long ago, sometimes i wonder who that writer was? sometimes i remember distinctly the actual writing. that’s what so great about the written word. your words never ever fail to make me smile.
in fondest, tilda
August 14th, 2012 at 1:59 pm
Beautiful!
August 14th, 2012 at 3:04 pm
She sounds like a very real person to me!
August 14th, 2012 at 3:11 pm
“dark possibility”
ohhhhhhh
this totally gets my juices flowing…
August 14th, 2012 at 3:14 pm
so love this!
August 14th, 2012 at 3:25 pm
Some of my earlier stuff makes me cringe, but yeah I smile at it too as I read, most times.
August 14th, 2012 at 3:29 pm
No one ever gets us like we do–well only a few, and they are the standouts in a life of shadows…I really enjoyed this, the sense of personality, yet removal from your earlier voice and the nostalgia as well as acknowledgement of it being something to keep close. One of the easiest to read, most enjoyable poems ever for me.
August 14th, 2012 at 3:45 pm
Great “find,” Kelly! I don’t have such a person hidden in the back of a drawer, maybe some yellow news clips of hideous reportage I did at 22. I like yours a lot better!!!
Did the pages still smell of young girl perfume? 🙂 xox ~ j
August 14th, 2012 at 3:46 pm
Such a sweet and tender meeting. Beautifully written!
August 14th, 2012 at 3:52 pm
This made me laugh as I imagined my own bleaks and barrens!
August 14th, 2012 at 4:05 pm
Wonderful extended metaphor. I, too, feel like this about my old material:
“make notes in red
down the sides of
yellowed paper saying
ha! and really?”
August 14th, 2012 at 4:16 pm
What a beautiful and thought-provoking title.
This is my favorite part:
“cynical and funny
and cosmically correct”
Beautiful ending. Certainly you are saying you are beginning to fall in love with her because she gets you. But also, I read “i find myself beginning,” meaning that you feel truly yourself when you are with her as if you are truly coming to life.
August 14th, 2012 at 4:17 pm
And this is the kind of poem that made me fall in love with you! Great!
August 14th, 2012 at 4:21 pm
I was thinking it was a person at first. And then I thought perhaps you were talking to a younger you. Part of her you miss because she is the deepest part of you, the truest you. But you also want to edit her based on what you’ve learned since being 23. (Although, I think you may actually be 23. I’m not sure. This is just a possible interpretation.) We all wish we could go back and teach our younger selves a few things. 🙂 But we also wish we could revive our younger spirits.
August 14th, 2012 at 4:25 pm
Ha, no, I am almost 50, but the book-start I found in my cupboard was written when I was 23. I’m not sure I would want to be 23 again… but it was quite a trip to go back and read what I had written then!
August 14th, 2012 at 4:53 pm
ooooh, what a magical unearthing. “pat her on the back and say there, there” … beautiful.
August 14th, 2012 at 4:58 pm
She is you … love this.
August 14th, 2012 at 5:02 pm
The past when it was now always shocks even in fiction as we suddenly know it was someone else who still sticks around
August 14th, 2012 at 5:21 pm
when i took up this nasty little habit again, i went back through some old writings…they pretty much stunk up the place…but they were put back in the envelope instead of being thrown away…
August 14th, 2012 at 6:51 pm
Loved it, just so cleverly done. And don’t you just love it when you find that little glimpse of a character once lost and remember your connection… She gets you, like only you could.
August 14th, 2012 at 8:35 pm
Mrs. Mediocrity, I always enjoy the fresh breeze and liveliness that greets me on every visit here! Today is certainly no different….. What a wonderful zesty poem about one’s own thoughts, poetry? Diary? of an earlier time…… So much advice and so many comforting thoughts we could extend to those younger versions of ourselves…. But I’m lucky because according to my soon to be ex I’ve always been right… Or so I think so. Of course I agree…….
August 14th, 2012 at 8:52 pm
Wow. I can totally relate to this. Having found old journals and half-written books from years ago, I really get this. Excellent.
August 14th, 2012 at 9:16 pm
What a lovely piece on rediscovery. I’m happy that you’ve decided to sit with ‘her’ for a bit and smile with this treasure and I love the unity in the end. 🙂
August 14th, 2012 at 9:23 pm
The last line really got me. It made the poem live in my opinion. I loved it.
August 14th, 2012 at 9:24 pm
Like looking in a mirror that never lost the old image. How fun it is to find these old reflections. Nice recounted.
August 14th, 2012 at 10:28 pm
“at twenty three
already thinking
life was so dim
and so perilous
“so blank and filled
with dark possibility
cynical and funny
and cosmically correct
“i want to hug her”
This is fondness leading to love, even after wanting to correct her . . . but who is she? If she is she, she has already corrected her and it is about time to love herself! If it is someone the narrator loved and lost–a sister or a mother? then it is a wonderful opportunity to hear without being able to contradict or answer back. I vote for the first possibility. Lovely.
August 15th, 2012 at 10:17 am
I love it when I stumble upon my earlier words. It is like a treasure… sometimes a piece of you that was forgotten.
August 15th, 2012 at 1:37 pm
Re-finding your old self brilliantly captured! My earlier self makes me cringe, but still nostalgic, all the same!
August 15th, 2012 at 1:55 pm
Re-finding your old self, brilliantly captured. Mind, I cringe frequently. At some of my old stuff, but still, it’s nostalgic…..
August 15th, 2012 at 3:23 pm
Beautiful… so creative.
August 15th, 2012 at 3:32 pm
A treasured find that works so well
August 15th, 2012 at 7:24 pm
Nice. Different journey, though. I have often said that we should have our children young because it is probably not helpful to the young to have teen angst at the same time their elders have the deep disillusionment of old age. But perhaps I just haven’t lived this thing right…
August 16th, 2012 at 6:17 pm
Thank you! Your poem took me to that magical place you are so good at creating.
xo
August 17th, 2012 at 1:04 am
Awesome! loved this. My old journals make me a little queasy.