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This entry is an unplanned response to the Weekly Writing Challenge of the Daily Post
oldBoxWithKey
I met my fifteen years younger self today. Three pale pieces of paper inside of a dusty box. Three poems. Three imprints not of a face, but of a soul that was apparently once my own. How much has changed!
I do not like poetry. It’s always too much drama, way too personal. Besides, the lines don’t even always rhyme, so that it becomes just some prose, arranged and phrased in a weird way. I do not like drama. I like my prose properly arranged, and my soul properly covered. Even if my life depended on it, the only kind of poem you could get from me would be something like:
One pretty witty crocodile
Is wearing evening gown.
He also got his nails done.
The circus is in town.
(My sincere apologies for making you read that, but it was necessary to make a point.)
I do not do poetry. I do jokes. The worse I feel, the funnier it gets. I’m sure if I broke a leg it would make the most hilarious story ever. This is me. Or should I say, this is me now. The dusty box tells me that it was different once, that there were times when I was able to speak from my heart.
Why did it change? Well, I have an idea, but it is another rather long and boring story. Do I envy this ability? Maybe. I definitely admire the courage I had back then to write something so personal, because there is no chance I would do it today. No chance.
I don’t use my real name for this blog. There are only two people out there who know who I am, and none of them is my mother, or my father, or my sister. However, there is one thing I can do now that will be very unusual thing for me to do. I can share one of these poems here. I’m sure my fifteen years younger self would have appreciated it.
I wrote this poem 15 years ago in my university times, as an assignment for an English class. For some parts of it, I’m not even sure if it’s proper English, but I’m not going to make any changes. It is about how people like to think they know you, but in reality they have no idea who you are.
Don’t trust the words – they will deceive.
Don’t trust your eyes – they are mistaken.
The heart is what you should believe.
And it’s your heart you should awaken.
“I know you well, I do”, – you said.
You do not know, I know you don’t.
And if you go on talking, lad,
You’ll never know, I’m sure you won’t.
You want to see – so close your eyes.
Be silent – only then you’ll hear.
Behind the noise of words it lies,
Behind, you see, and not “just here”.
And you may fail to understand,
(I won’t allow or you’ll just fail)
But, anyway, do not, my friend,
Put anyone into the pale.
Don’t trust the words – they will deceive.
Don’t trust your eyes – they are mistaken.
The heart is what you should believe.
And it’s your heart you should awaken.
P.S.
Dear people from the Weekly Writing Challenge team,
Thanks for staying with me till the end. In the original Weekly Writing Challenge entry, you asked some questions about the experience of writing something completely different. Here are my answers:
  1. Was it easier than you thought? Harder?
  2. It was tough. It cost me a lot of blood, sweat and tears. Literary. However, I am glad I did it.

  3. Did you learn anything useful?
  4. Yes, that writing personal things from the depth of your heart is bloody tough and scary.

  5. Will you incorporate the new style into your repertoire?
  6. Maybe in teeny tiny pieces, placed as gold coins along the way of my jokey stories. (Did I mention it was bloody tough?)

  7. Would you try this exercise again with a different style?
  8. Yes, I’ve been experimenting with different styles since I’ve started this blog. Jokey true story, jokey advice (my favorite), jokey photo story (everybody else’s favorite), jokey diary entry, etc. Let’s see what kind of “jokey” is else out there.

Sincerely yours,
Gill

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