Bring the Shame: Episode I

Before Christmas I was up at my parents’ place one weekend, and doing some computer maintenance, as is typical. One thing Mom wanted me to check was a stack of old floppies — make sure there wasn’t anything “important” on them.

There were a few files on them, dating back a looooong time, and remembering the relevance of some of them was a bit of nostalgic amusement.

And then I found it. My old poetry file. A Word doc that’s existed since I was… I dunno, 11? 12? and to which I contributed through high school and university. It’s not the final version, since the handful of pieces I wrote in Sydney (age 23) weren’t in there, but that’s okay, because those weren’t nearly as delightful. 🙂

I thought I’d emailed myself a copy of the doc, but then after I got home I couldn’t find it. Next time I was up at my parents’ place I checked their computer. Nope, no copies there, either. Oh well.

And then this afternoon Sherry and I were finalizing details of our France trip, and I saved and closed the Google Doc, and lo and behold, there in my list of docs was MPOETRY. Rawk.

Of course, each poem has a dramatic title (I liked making up words…) and many are even in mood-evoking fonts, though most of them are in Monotype Corsiva. Heh. One poem per page, and there are 82 pages. Aww yeah. Though I think there are a handful of duplicates. But still plenty of juicy shame to share with y’all.

And so, in honour of my pubescent self, let’s start things off right. First, the dedication/disclaimer/whatever on the first page says this:

These are secrets; to whom does one dedicate secrets?

That’s right. I am TOO COOL to dedicate my musings to anyone. AND I can use a semi-colon. Fear me.

If I recall correctly, for a very long time the poem below was my favourite.

Oh, and note: at no time during my adolescence or early adulthood was I ever goth. No, really.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Orchestra

Through a darkening sky
that gleams madly
the Raven flies
cawing once, twice
the Trickster knows
what sorcery descends
on the wind
the Wolf scents something
fierce, untamed
like all who flourish here
He raises His sleek head
and cries
a chilling salute
to a wildness that rules His
the deceptive stillness falls
and like a dying exhalation
silence envelops all
with potent suspense
as darkness falls
squeezing out the last drops
of eery light
the air breathes
and moves
caressing the skin
filling the senses
with the rapidly overpowering
forbidden
the quickening breeze
carries the feral essence
the branches whip
as if struggling, trapped
in forced witness
though the civilized huddle
in their dollhouses
those truly alive
know their time has come
a sensuous banquet
ignites desire
behind the starless curtain
and as the world is drenched
in liquid silver
the honoured succumb
He flies off
to secret places
The Raven caws
a final salute
a final trick
revel in the artistry

2 Replies to “Bring the Shame: Episode I”

  1. You will bring said book of poetry to our next Diva get together right? Perhaps we could have a poetry reading over a glass (or two) of wine. 😉

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