When I Used to be a Poet…

Did you know I used to be a poet? It’s true. Back when I was a young, hormonal, highly self-conscious, desperately confused teenager.

I’m so thankful for years that bring growth and maturity. Those were excruciatingly hard years. Those were the years I wasn’t good at talking about my feelings. I’m sure I would at least try to convey them, but a few rambling words in and I’d be all confused again. And stuck. So, I think that’s why I wrote poetry. It just came–I fell in love with beautiful words and scenery and somehow I seemed to get it onto a page.

This is my poetry journal. It’s only half full, but, oh the comfort it brought me every time I plunged myself into these billowing waves to release thoughts and feelings and imaginations.

So, for the next few blog posts, I’m going to willingly embarrass myself. I’m going to share a vulnerable part of my life with you. No, I won’t mind if you laugh…I do, when I go back and read some of what I wrote.

But I would like you to promise me one thing. I hope that as you read, you’ll be encouraged to look at life just a little differently as you go about your day. I hope you’ll take the daily mundane and view it through the eyes of a poet. That is, look for the beauty, the wonder that is all about you. It’s there, you just have to pause long enough to see it.

The Moonlight Garden
(written September 7, 1993)

The moon was high in the dark, heavy sky.
I opened the garden gate ajar,
I whispered, “What wonders there are!”

The moonlight danced on the curved rock path,

It showered the daffodils and gave the violets their bath.
I crept along the path with wonder,
And then I heard a low, soft thunder.

A cold, chilling breeze danced by,

And then I heard the owl’s screeching cry.
I made my way down to the old oak tree
Where the buttercups bloomed and the grass grew free.

I laid down on the dew drenched ground;

The birds did not sing, only crickets made the sound.
I only laid there for a minute or two,
I hadn’t many minutes left, just a few.

The roses and lilies stood waving good-bye,

I rushed along the path as the moon drew nigh.
As I reached the end of the path, I looked back once more,
I never knew such beauty before.

I shut the gate behind me, I did not want to pardon–

But I would come again to this moonlight garden.

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published.

More from Maggie

Sign up with Maggie to keep finding glory in the grime!

Enter your email address to subscribe