Buttercup (Part 2)

Hmmm. I finally get my intro page up, I have enough of the early days to talk about and yet I am still having a hard time actually getting this tale off and running. What’s up with that?!?!!

At first I thought it was just because I had a lot of stuff going on that was distracting me. Around here, that seems to happen quite often (way too often if you ask me). But then I finally had some calm time and I found myself just sitting here not knowing quite how to start the telling of my bazaar and surprising tale. And the main reason for that is simple for me, but not so much for anyone reading this. You see, I have a bit of a problem, quite a few actually, but this particular one is predominant over all the others lately; I suffer from CRSS (Can’t Remember Shit Syndrome).

I’ll bet you’re either smiling or chuckling. 🙂

Seriously though, I haven’t been able to remember most of first 18 or so years of my life for, well, I don’t know. A very long time. And I remember even less now due to my brain not working properly. Doctors still haven’t pin-pointed what it was before, but now I’m pretty sure it’s tied into the Hypokalemia. But all of that is too far in the future. We need to jump back in time to some of the bits and pieces I do remember. Oh, and btw, I have suppressed memories which tie much of the poetry that comes into the tale down the road. 😉

So, I guess I have my start, huh? Giggity.

The very first poem I ever wrote was when I was in the fourth grade and we had to write a poem for an English assignment. I wrote something short about a buttercup. Unfortunately, I didn’t keep a copy of it. But a spark was struck with that assignment which ignited a small fire. As we learned about poetry, I found myself enthralled and wanting to know more. I didn’t attempt another poem again until sixth grade, but by then I had a slightly better understanding of what it was I doing. I understood stanzas and rhymes and structure and I loved all of it!! I had found a book of poem Called “It Doesn’t Always Have To Rhyme” that knocked my young socks off! And Edgar Poe? OMG!! So tortured and magnificent!! I had found a small bit of Heaven right here on Earth!

The World In A Dream

I was surrounded by beauty

when I was born

in a beautiful garden,

Like the Garden of Eden,

on that glorious morn.

.

As I grew older

Oh, the things I would see.

There were birds chirping,

And flowers blooming,

Always surrounding me.

.

The older I grew

the more places I would look,

to find more interesting things

So that in later years

I might write a book.

.

When I’m eighteen

Oh, the stories I will write;

Telling of the beautiful things I saw

the very moment I woke up,

at the sight of the beautiful

morning light.

Copyright ©1982

The World In A Dream” was the first of my true attempts at writing a real poem. After about seven drafts, I finally felt it was perfect and I held onto this one.

Shapes In The Sky

On a wonderful, sunny day,

I like to lie in the grass

and gaze, quietly into the sky.

.

I watch the clouds move along,

as they move at different speeds;

Floating slowly, yet quickly, across

the sky.

.

I like to imagine the clouds

in several different shapes;

like animals, or people, or anything

found in the sky.

.

A person can imagine the clouds

to be anything that they like,

Even themselves, floating across

the sky.

Copyright ©1983

Next was “Shapes in the Sky” which had been inspired when I fell off the swings during recess and happen to notice the clouds behind the head of the teacher asking how many fingers? The third creation of that beginning was inspired by Karen Larson and Teresa Kriegler, two of my four or five friends back then. We had all been arguing so our parents said we couldn’t be friends anymore. I didn’t want that, I was devastated, and “Friendship” was written.

Friendship

Friendship is something special,

something everyone can have.

All you need is to have a friend;

and more important, to be a friend.

.

But sometimes it’s hard to find a friend,

and if you don’t have a friend,

how can you be a friend?

It isn’t easily done.

.

Sometimes friends are limited

and you only have one or two.

If someone takes them away

who is there you may turn to?

.

This is what true friendship,

and a real friend,

whom I believe in very much,

really is to me.

Copyright ©1982

We moved around quite a bit back then and I was pretty shy which made making new friends a bit difficult. On top of that, it seems I was a wee bit strange; I saw things and I talked to myself a bit. Also, I was very sensitive, as in way over-sensitive. And I had a creepy way of knowing what other people were feeling. But most importantly, I was broken. Now, I was still young, so the gravity of how I was broken hadn’t yet fully kicked in. So far we, as in my mother, my older brother (by a year and a half) Todd and I only knew that Todd and I seemed a bit shy and socially awkward. The truth of the matter for me would not come out for a couple more years.

Imagination

The imagination is part of the mind,

the part we use to think interestingly;

to dream up something wild,

or to get away from the real world

to a place you love to be.

 

Everyone needs an imagination,

At least every now and then.

To think up things to write,

Things to say or sing,

everyone needs an imagination

every now and then.

 

To have an imagination

all one has to do is think.

Think of scary or nice,

think of gloomy or bright.

And anyone can always think.

 

This is how I describe imagination,

which I had to use to think up this.

It’s easy to have if you want it,

and is there at times when you don’t;

so don’t let your mind wander amiss.

Copyright ©1983

The next poem I wrote was in seventh grade, a simple little thing titled “Imagination”. I may have written a few others during that school year, but we had moved from Duluth, MN to Bloomington, MN that year. Now, if you don’t know anything about either of these two cities, than the significance of such a move is going to be completely lost on you so, imagine…hmmm. I almost said Beverly Hillbillies, but it’s not quite that drastic. But definitely small town to big city different, it was a heck of a transition for all of us and added to moving in with mom’s boyfriend who had been from the cities and came up to Duluth for hunting season. So we went from small town 3 to city 4. That was a tough adjustment for Todd and I. So even though I hadn’t written much for the rest of the school year, I had certainly collected a serious amount of emotional material for the following year when all hell seem to break loose and I wrote quite a bit. But that will be the tale for my next entry I think. This should give you a good enough of an idea of my poetic beginnings, yes?

Until next time.  

~   Kyla   ~

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