Poetry

I started writing in kindergarten, with stories. When I got up to middle school I wrote poetry. I wrote poetry throughout high school, got a couple of poems published nationally my senior year. I wrote poetry until around 2002, then the poetry vein I had been tapping for so many years dried up. Or maybe it was more like an addict trashing the vein from use. Whichever it is, it ultimately ended in me being almost unable to write poetry for the last decade. I wrote two poems in 2007, but they don’t have the same passion or voice of any of my earlier work, they are at best, disappointing.

As stated in a previous blog post I lost much of my earlier work. I do have a handful of work from middle and high school, though.

Thought I’d share one here.

This one is from 1988 or 1989, I believe, when I was in 7th or 8th grade.

Sentries
Mountains so tall.
Purple, blue, or green.
Capped with glistening
white peaks.
Standing guard
over the valley.
Protecting all
who dwell within.

These mountains were the inspiration of the piece.
Mission Mountains

Do you have nature inspired poems? Early work that you look at fondly? I would love to see some from others.

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2 comments on “Poetry

  1. I enjoyed your poem, Amber. Thank you for sharing it. I’m sorry you have lost a lot of your work.

    I wrote some poetry when I was in high school that I still have. Actually, some of it amazes me now, not because of its brilliance (which it does not have) but because of the themes. Yes, I have written poetry that was inspired by nature. Poetry is not my first genre, but it is the one I began with all those years ago (except for a story I wrote in Grade 8 about being shipwrecked on a desert island). I don’t write it on a steady basis, but when I’m inspired, it comes. I have written a novel, short stories, inspirational pieces, etc. That is where most of my writing energy and inspiration go now. And of course in my web sites.

    Here is one of my early poems inspired by nature.

    Moonbeams

    Bright,
    Silvery-white,
    Beams of pure light–
    From up above,
    The Father of love,
    Like the wings of a dove,
    Softly they fall,
    Encircle us all–
    To heaven they call.

    © by Diane Stephenson (I can’t remember the year I wrote this, but it would have been in the late 1950s or early 1960s.)

    • abagola says:

      Hi Diane =]

      My poetry also comes when I’m inspired. It’s not something I think about and craft so much as capture.

      I like your poem, it captures what moonbeams were to you, at least at that time. Thanks for sharing!

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