stupid bad old poetry...

i am on spring break this week, trying to organize things. i came across old poetry that i wrote in high school and college.

this one from high school was typed using a blue typewriter (from the 1960s?) and typing paper, not that computers weren't out yet in the early 90s, but that's what i used:

life is:
a picture book forever changing
a grain of sand on the beach
a rose with many thorns
a forest--you either find a tree to climb or you wander around, trying to find a path
an old song that has new meaning each time you listen to it
a jigsaw puzzle
paint by number--the colors are already there and you just add water
a scrabble game--you keep building onto other words, some of your letters are worth more than others, and when you fill up the board, it's all over
a balloon--carefully inflated and easily deflated with the prick of a needle
a maze
the night before xmas--were you naughty or nice?
a joke you don't understand--you pretend to understand and laugh or you seek to understand the meaning

this one i wrote about my hubbie's room when we were dating and he still lived with his parents. he had many interesting things in his room, including a fish net and a black light--it was quite eclectic:

i shed my coat from a generation ago
to enjoy freely the sea things set a glow
we eat popadum with a hanging bird
three perched owls, and a palm tree somewhat absurd

one empty collar, a lion head, and wreaths of shark's teeth
compete with new york's buildings underneath
this smoke-filled room
with gargoyle's that shout out doom

we're nervous in new york
until the sun goes down and we pop the cork
incense, orbital, darkness and colored beams
fill our boulevard of broken dreams

a jungle of a thousand voices
a jungle of a thousand noises
instruments and rhythms floating in the air
replace every emotion and any care

glowing teeth under black light
glowing eyes in the night
are larger than the old man and his cane
it's this time that keeps us sane