I was a teenage writer…

So run away now if you have any idea what that entails.

I thought I’d share this poem I wrote when I was 13ish. I share not only because it’s funny on its own (not in a haha way), but because I want to reveal that I was conned. By promises of vanity publishing, no less. At the time I thought it was a legitimate publishing house and my parents sent away all sorts of cash for commemorative copies of my poem. This wondrous work is even on a plaque that has haunted me for years. It is hoisted to my eye level right at the entrance to my bedroom. That plaque is my gritty reminder of the fact that, no matter how bad things get, I can at least write better than this poem.

So here it is, one ugly wart that rips off “Row, row, row your boat” and still got “published” in a very limited edition.

Falling Leaves

Leaves are falling in a rippling stream,
Passing below like a short-lived dream.
They drift on by as quickly as a life,
Neglecting all the ever-earnest strife.

I look below me on the wooden landing,
Just as God is surely always standing,
But I can’t seem to see the meaning,
As if all creation was under screening.

What am I to do in this black abyss?
Looking down while seeming to miss,
Everything leading me to oh blessed Him,
As if my existence just brushes the brim.

There is no essence to my somber self,
My whole world dwelt upon a shelf,
But if I were to wander into the emptiness,
Perhaps my soul would find proverbial bliss?

But oh, why not?
Better than to sit and rot
Upon a bridge down by the stream
Where whole lives are but a dream.

Kind of collapses at the end, eh? So, do you have any bad bits of writing you’d like to share? Or would you like to convince me that this is a work of brilliance?

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