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August 12, 2008 Bad Teenage Poetry Blogging: The "I can't believe I'm doing this" edition 
Before I completely shame myself for all posterity and you lose all respect for me as a person and a writer (sigh), I'd like to point out to those of you on feedreaders that I've changed the header and would love any feedback you have, plus I think I finally fixed the sidebar for those of you viewing on the latest version of IE. I'm going to be making a few other fidgets and edits over the course of the next month or so. If any of them are particularly obnoxious or illegible, let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. And now, the mortification portion: These are from one of my old writing journals, which were nearly indistinguishable from my black books except that they were blue and almost everything in them was undated. All I can say for sure is that it started in 1989 (14) and wrapped up 2 or 3 years later. Bad teenage poetry does not get any worse than what is written between 14 and 17. All right. I'll stop postponing this (Superlagirl, you're going to owe your internet friends a lot, you know?): A Terrible Lie [ed: I love my originality. A terrible lie! I'm sure no one has ever titled a poem that, ever.] Why must they try to do this to my life? [good god. This is awful. Also, I would like to lay all the blame for the atrocious rhyming couplets solidly at the feet of Emily Starr, because all of her poetry rhymed since that's what "real poetry" did, and I resolved at an early age to copy Ms. Starr at every possible turn. I was very disappointed in being so prosaic that I never had her visions or moments of being transported by artistic inspiration. All right, back to the abomination.] Why must they try to hurt me with their lies? Lies and rumours everywhere abound. [Murphy. The worst/most amusing part is I have absolutely no recollection of whatever trauma this poem is referring to, so clearly it was just a mite less everlasting than I supposed at the time. Time for a geeky sci-fi reference: You know, the Vogons (Hitchhiker`s Guide) routinely threatened people with either a) being thrown out an airlock or b) having to listen to their poetry, and if I'm not mistaken, most of their victims went for the airlock. I think A Terrible Lie is clearly in the Vogon school of poetry.] I'm toying with the idea of including a piece of fantasy poetry, which apparently I did a lot of at that age. There's one here written by "a soldier" who lost some war but apparently managed to smuggle a badly-rhymed letter home describing the loss. Very entertaining. There's even an early polemic--I told you I came by my evangelism honestly. However I do have a few of the unrhymed outpouring-of-woe sorts sitting around in this book, and in the spirit of the occasion I will include one. Joy and My Mind [hahahahahahahahaha] See how I run Death awaiting on a grassy plain At least it has a happy ending? Once again, I actually can't remember what brought this on. But I loved how I managed to combine tortured genius, the enlightenment of depression, AND a religious message in one poem. I wasn't just an extra-special smart girl who saw through the shallow materialism and thoughtless happiness of everyday life, oh no; I was going to heaven, too! Except for the suicide part. Not sure how I was going to work that out. I'd like you all to know that I'm feeling much, much better now. Posted by Andrea at August 12, 2008 8:56 AM under Wordsmithery EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments Awesome! Thank you! These are great! Posted by: Superlagirl at August 12, 2008 8:25 AM
*was waiting to see how bad yours were before posting mine* Woah. (off to the scanner!) M Posted by: Marla at August 12, 2008 8:38 AM
If by "great" you mean "atrocious," then yes. Yes, they are great. Apparently so great that they reassured Marla about the greatness of her own poems! Posted by: Andrea
Good job, Andrea! I think I might just share one of my really bad poems when I get home tonight. Posted by: cinnamon gurl at August 12, 2008 9:45 AM
dude, i needed this today.:) i wish i could share with you the heaving beauty of "The Stormchild," composed in eighth grade...but alas for my compulsive paper cleaning. Posted by: Bon at August 12, 2008 9:46 AM
My girlfriend is one of the bravest people I know. ;) Good job! (Sadly -- or fortunately -- I missed out on the bad teenage poetry phase. Maybe someday I'll show you may age-14 incredibly-Garfield-derivative comics strips instead...) Posted by: theboyfriend, a.k.a. Greg at August 12, 2008 10:42 AM
Imagine how much worse you would have felt if someone had told you back then that, one day, your reaction to your own heartfelt words would be hysterical giggling. These are, like, the best angst-ridden poems ever. Posted by: niobe at August 12, 2008 11:03 AM
Greg--can I put it on the internet? Niobe, I know! Poor prior-self. No one takes her seriously. Posted by: Andrea
Oh, if only our grade 11 German class knew that you had posted stuff from the books on the internet! Oh, wait -- some of them undoubtedly do. Posted by: Morrigan at August 12, 2008 11:30 AM
Oh, you brave thing! Those were so awful that I think I love them. I've thrown all mine away, thank GOD, but I do have, somewhere, some lyrics my friend and I wrote spoofing the writings of Simon LeBon, the Duran Duran lead singer. We knew, even at our tender ages of 17, that 80's song lyrics were murky and pretentious, and wrote a hysterically funny version. I'll find and post it in the next couple of days. Posted by: marymurtz at August 12, 2008 11:45 AM
Those are choice. I'm still wrestling with whether it's worth hauling the big box out from under the basement stairs to find some of mine. I love how you can't remember the angst that spawned the angsty poems. I remember finding a note I had written to my best friend in Grade Nine that included such lines as: "How can I live without him? I'll never forget him, I want to be with him always, he is my one true love, blah blah blah." I gave it back to my friend with a note scrawled across it: "Do you have any idea who I was writing about? Cause I don't." Posted by: TrudyJ at August 12, 2008 2:13 PM
Oh sweet jesus, these are really entertaining. But why no soldier's smuggled poem? That promised much awesomeness (especially if you managed to work in "blood spurts" again; that was pure gold). Posted by: Gwen at August 12, 2008 3:23 PM
But if I post all the good stuff in one day, how will I get any of you to come back? Morrigan--uh huh. At least one I can think of for sure. Posted by: Andrea
Thanks for bringing back all my high school memories. Thanks. A lot. Ahem. ;) Posted by: Kia at August 12, 2008 8:13 PM
Um... well. Yes. Gorgeous in their awfulness. And I do love the Vogon reference. An apt comparison.
Posted by: Major Bedhead at August 12, 2008 10:59 PM
You know, I would've pegged you for a teenage poet but I would NEVER have guessed you were a rhyming teenage poet. It's almost counter-culture to use rhyme in teen poetry, isn't it. My dear, you were ahead of the curve. BTW, the only poem I can remember writing as a teen is one I posted a long time ago: "The United Rubber Worker comes Posted by: Mad at August 13, 2008 10:42 AM
Wow, this is fantastic. I love both the rhyming and the non-rhyming bits. Live-strife! Fake it-break it! Posted by: Madeleine at August 13, 2008 2:01 PM
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About Me I'm a type 1 diabetic, witch, feminist, environmentalist, writer, mother, student and print addict in Toronto, Canada. The blog has seen the birth of my daughter, her many medical adventures, my divorce and return to school. The name of the game is upheaval. Subscribe
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