In high school, I wrote a small amount of poetry in a journal. My process, the idea of revision, is more noticeable. My mistakes are still visible in black or blue pen (I don’t know why I didn’t write in pencil). I thought I’d be nostalgic and share some (and eventually most) of these pages. The poetry is rough and ragged. It clings to my former obsession—now, it is simply an adoration—with rhyme. This is my pre-lyric poetry. This is a younger version of me, when my grandparents were still alive and the world was a much less scary place (and yes, it is scary—terrifying, even). These first three I’m sharing are selections from my shorter poems. I hope you like them.
School and Conformity
by Alexa L., written in ninth, tenth, eleventh, or twelfth grade
School is just conformity defined
By classrooms of students
Walls soaked in white
Endless lunch lines
The same clock that eyes devour
The same tick. Tock. Tick.
A final click.
And they all run.
by Alexa L., written when a date involved walking through the mall holding hands (and that was it)
While hearts beat, mine pounds
When hearts hush, mine sounds
While hearts breathe, mine sighs
When hearts break, mine dies
by Alexa L., written in a time when I still wore GAP sweaters in 90-degree heat (I was hiding from the world)
Pictures put me in a frame of mind
That always develops badly
My front will look like my behind
And my smile turns down gladly.