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
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 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
“Sweepy Jean,” age 19
© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 1976-1979, 2010.