Teenaged Poetry

If you are in my Australian Literature class, or the writing group I attend on Tuesdays, you will recall that I mentioned that as a teenager I wrote some very bad poetry… as some of us are prone to do. I have been thinking about the following poem that I wrote as a 17 year old, in light of a poem we studied in class, and in context of rhythm.

See if you can pick up the rhythm of the train, and the slowing down at stations etc in this poem. I share it exactly as I wrote it back then, so you can smile, or cringe alongside me.

Conviction Before Trial

Riding the train

Home one night

Upon I came

A terrible sight

He looked dead

just laying there

and on his head

not a single hair

The smell of drink was all around

And his head – blood surrounds

Why is he just laying there

And where is all of his hair

Now the crowd gathers round

And in the air, sirens sound

They think I did it But that’s not true

They’re just standing

Shouting YOU YOU YOU!

Now the police take me away

And the crowd breaks in dismay

Will this mean the end of my life

Will they notify my friend, my wife?

Why did I do it? my wife will wonder.

And every year,

She kneels and weeps on the grave I am under

I’m forgotten, but not for long

She knows I’d never do wrong

Other people know it too

She pleads to the public

Tell the truth, will one of you

I know he’s dead but all the same

I’d like to clear his criminal name

One steps forward to tell the truth

She was nice, her name was Ruth.

Your husbands name I’ve come to clear

Right now, the real killer’s here

She sat down and poured a drink

And now she didn’t have to think

“I DID IT” she yelled out

And the people began to scream and shout

I just killed him and ran

I didn’t know  I’d hurt another man

She began to cry and pray

As the police dragged her away

Now a bullet rang through the air

And all the people turned to stare

A man was standing by the door

Another member of the law

“Book her” he said with a grin

And the people stared at him

” A fair trial” he demands

Not like the other mans

If she dies, she will die

But properly she will die

Not like the other guy

I now declare this mans name cleared

And the rest of the people, they all cheered

Now my wife, she just stands

And there’s a gun in her soft hands

She took her own life

She did. My friend my wife.

 

Initially, I couldn’t complete this poem as I thought it was too bad to be printed and shared, but Meggles encouraged me to finish it. So there you are Meggles, Just for you.

Dave

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2 Comments

Filed under literature

2 responses to “Teenaged Poetry

  1. Got it, The Poetry categorized as Teenage Poetry. To Dave from Rosemary

    I’ve got a bit of this sort of early work around too. Thank you for sharing this poem. The last line tells me something about you. Something about your writing. That you are capable of recording the internal dialogue as well as the outward descriptions. Both components of any novel written. I struggle with this balance of description and internal life. In my case the internal life usually wins.

  2. I like your poem. It describe something serous in the life.you express that you seem to have some pressure in your life. I am glad that a 17 years old boy wrote so nice poem. The sound of the poem is like music. Although it is just imagination, you describles the details of the dead man. Sometime poeple have misunderstand other people.If it happened in your life, please do not worry about that.

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