Voice of my youth

Some random thoughts about finding a large pile of old writings from when I was 11-17 years old

Finally a moment for Jennesis
Alone in my space after the intrusion
Of others here

Beneath the pile of
not dirty
not clean clothes
Waiting to be worn again
The cedar chest built by
Jack's loving hands
Holds scraps of memories
Enveloped in woodsy scent
Protected from time and
The disposable world we live in
An old letter jacket and baby blanket
Sheath hidden treasures
On faded pages
Words, ideas and dreams cascade

Loose leaf paper stories
From a long ago autumn
Piled into an inviting heap
Within the faded ink
I think
Lives the voice of my younger self
I dive in, jumping into a past that
Emerges from
Juvenile pencil script

Roots of the bard
Uncovered
Deep within the soil of time
Seeds sewed, growing for decades
Romantic notions and
Young ideals promising a
Bright future
Themes of strength
And control
Trusting others only to a point
Stories of fantasy only young people can scribe
Idealistic and innocent before the
Winter of life hardens and freezes their hearts

Also within the pile of leaves
Sheathes other
Tidbits and treasures
A note from my sister
Our relationship spoken
Out loud in appreciation and connection
Cheering for each other in the game of life
A poem for my childhood friend
A friendship that has no end
And several months of journals
from the last weeks of high school
Before the Jennesis of my adult life

I wonder what happened
To make her stop
Penning her beautiful words to paper
The seasons of life have gotten in her way

Shining through the faded ink
I think
That child,
Her voice, my voice
Was beauty
Sculpting and painting
The world with her words

Author's Note

Any feedback encouraged

Reviews

[Ruth]

How lovely to have moments recorded, this is well thought out, a treasure to wander through :) xo

[Jennesis]

Aww! Thanks poppy!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

our words grow up with us, and sometimes, as we, they grow up too soon...the innocence we write about in notebooks becomes a fierce maturity we write about on computer keyboards now that we have grown from painful increments of life.

[Jennesis]

Thank you For reading Jacob!

[Jerome F Knox III pseud..]

I marvel at this piece as one reflects on the past and brings it up to the future. I am reminded of the cliché that says "one who looks to the past is doomed to repeat it" but in my mind I think the exception belongs to writers and poets. It is from reflection and glances at the past where we are better equipped to deal with the present and lay the ground work for future works. The past helps us file down the rough spots and smooth them over. It is from these experiences in which we write. Just look at the reflective nature of this piece and feel the deep hues that serve as the basis for the way she writes now. Her voice is more polished and in tune as she gets older and has a treasure trove of experiences to build upon. Look at these lines:

Holds scraps of memories
Enveloped in woodsy scent
Protected from time and
The disposable world we live in ...these lines have the seasoning of a poet/writer that is trusting her voice.

very robust and descriptive as she ties up all of her writings


Also within the pile of leaves
Sheathes other
Tidbits and treasures
A note from my sister
Our relationship spoken
Out loud in appreciation and connection
Cheering for each other in the game of life
A poem for my childhood friend
A friendship that has no end
And several months of journals
from the last weeks of high school
Before the Jennesis of my adult life


Seasoned reflection here where she is wondering where her voice has gone and why it has been silence all this time...

Also within the pile of leaves
Sheathes other
Tidbits and treasures
A note from my sister
Our relationship spoken
Out loud in appreciation and connection
Cheering for each other in the game of life
A poem for my childhood friend
A friendship that has no end
And several months of journals
from the last weeks of high school
Before the Jennesis of my adult life


the ending posed an interesting picture

Shining through the faded ink
I think
That child,
Her voice, my voice
Was beauty
Sculpting and painting
The world with her words

the key that stood out the word WAS.....it speaks of an uneasiness, uncertainty as to her state of mind at the time of the writings and her current state of mind. She could have easily made a transition and changed WAS to IS and that would have changed the tone of the poem completely. At this point she is letting you know that she is still unsure of her voice and that she is vulnerable more so now there ever before.

[Jennesis]

Wow Rico. I don't even know what to say. Thank you so much for taking the time to review this piece, and for putting so much into it. And the last part of that really made me think. Why didn't I say "is" beauty? Makes me want to change it. And I think you know more than anyone, that I still question myself in a lot of areas, not just my writing. Questioning is a vulnerable state . Thank you again. Very much

[Jerome F Knox III pseudonym Nefarious J. Dorsey]

You can't go back and change because than it becomes a conscious lie rather than a pure subconscious truth. Leave it be.

[Jennesis]

I believe my voice is better now, more beautiful. I am just still learning to trust it. And even yesterday at the gym, I stopped mid-stair master to write these cool words dancing around my brain. I'm becoming.