Poetry and personal blog – Spilling my guts to strangers

Oh, Very Young

In my continual attempt to take stock of my life, I found myself looking at old journals and notebooks with writings that date back to when I was a teenager. It amazes me how some things have changed and how some things have not. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not but I’ll share a few things anyway, sort of the equivalent of passing around really embarrassing baby photos. The first is a poetic prose, so to speak, the other two are poems. These are virtually unedited (ack!) except for an omitted line in the first piece and a typo in the third.


There must be a God above for no one else on this earth could have invented anything as beautiful as a summer day, when the sun’s bright majesty shines on all creation to give the world warmth, light, and love.

There must be a God above for no one else on this earth could have created human beings, many of whom are healthy infants who grow up to be healthy teenagers caught up on a carefree world full of love and laughter and summer days.

Dear God, if I could only capture this stage in my life and hold it forever, yet I know that if I hold it too tightly it will crumble in my hands and if my grasp is too loose it may fly away into the horizons of a new generation. I cannot ask even you Lord for the impossible. But I can remember and I can dream and in my mind I will be forever young, the grass will be forever green, they sky will be forever blue, the sun sill be forever bright, the days will be forever long, and in my heart it will be forever July.

“Sweepy Jean,” age 16


If I could only live my life the way
I feel is true to myself and God and be
Free at any time at all to say
What I feel, with truth, is right for me,

If I could only learn to live for myself
With no intent of adverse effect on others,
To put, sometimes, my wants upon  a shelf
And treasure others’ feeling like my mother’s,

If I could live and be happy with my life
As I constantly search for my identity
And find my peace amidst this worldly strife
And find my peace in sublime humanity,

I would have no regrets and no more sorrow
If I fell ill today and died tomorrow.

“Sweepy Jean,” age 17


Breathless Love
I saw him on a breathless day,
Breathlessly I spoke.

Breathless on a summer’s day,
The hot air warmed to choke.

Nth degree on a summer’s day,
Breathless love chokes life away,

Face to face, breath meets breath,
Breathless love breeds oxygen death.

Then he smiled–
I breathed a sigh,
Oxygen High!

Oxygen High on a summer’s day,
Chest raised, lungs full of breath,
Flowers smell sweet, threatens tooth decay,
Bombardment of scents, olfaction bereft.

the trend is to desensitize
attention paid to lover’s eyes

attention paid to lover’s face
a lover’s pride knows no disgrace

then we Kiss
Summer Passion

“Sweepy Jean,” age 19

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 1976-1979, 2010.


Comments on: "Oh, Very Young" (10)

  1. Sweepy..

    I don’t find it surprising at all that you used to journal. I did as well. I find that I wrote my journals much like my blogs, to an audience of more than just myself. How have you seen your writing changing since you’ve started putting it on the web for all of us to see, or has it changed at all for you?

    • Well, I picked out some upbeat samples from my journals as I saw this as my own personal tribute. Generally, the prose was mostly for me, and I always had the delusion that my poetry would be read by others. With this blog, I’m very aware of the potential reader but I put it out there anyway, which at times causes me much panic and anxiety. There was one post “Audience of One” where I tried to write as if nobody would ever read it but me.

      From way back when to now, I write about what is on my mind and it is all very personal. I’m constantly changing, and this whole blogging experience has definitely changed me, so I’m sure in that respect my writing has changed.

      Thanks for asking, Justice. I wonder, have you noticed a change in my writing?

  2. Brent and I were talking about the pureness of the things we wrote in our youth, Sweepy. Writing about desires and concepts we cannot fully understand and doing them with an odd depth beyond the years we possess. It is a wonderfully pure time in a writers life. I love that you posted a part of your pure time here. I can see the fire in you burning hot. It is like watching God give birth to his voice really. It is neat to see that, while your style has changed, I see only more passion in your writing now-you never lost that, the way so many of us do.

    • I look at some of this old stuff and wonder who is that person who wrote this? I did lose that passion for a while, I’m so grateful to have reconnected with it. I really appreciate your comments, you are much, much too kind. I must say that I have seen a lot of growth in your writing, Lisa, since you first started, more and more confidence, and I love your fiction. I hope to see more of it once you take your well-deserved break! I love you. ❤

  3. Oh, I loved reading this! What is more passionate that a teenage girl in summer? Reminds me so much of how I felt, too…breathless with the absolute wonder of it. I have old notebooks I’m going to dig out. Maybe today.

  4. Especially love the singing of “Breathless Love”– you do a masterful job with the form. xxxj

  5. […] It’s right around my 50th birthday, which is why I recently indulged myself by posting my writings dating back to when I was a teenager. I was touched to rediscover the nonsense about it being […]

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