Your First Poem?
My first one that i can remember is similar to the first poem on my page, entitled: The darker the night the brighter the times. That was the name of it but i made some changes upon uploading it here. Its just the first one i remember i honestly can't say what my first one ever was i cant remember.
WriterMoe said:I'm curious, if people remember the subject of their first poem? Did it influence you, did you keep it (or a copy of it)?
I'll start. Mine was about the death of my grandfather when I was in middle school. I thought it was lost, but found out recently that my mom had held onto it, says it still gives her peace.
Thanks... That's pretty cool man!
I'll start. Mine was about the death of my grandfather when I was in middle school. I thought it was lost, but found out recently that my mom had held onto it, says it still gives her peace.
Thanks... That's pretty cool man!
If I remember correctly, my first poem was written when I was around 9 or 10 and I remember it being dark and full of pain. I can't quite remember how the poem went, all I know is I feel the pain when I try to think about it and that it was about my "dad". He left home when I was a young child and I still have questions to this day as to why he left me with such a messed up family. I suppose the pain I sometimes feel influences the way I write now, which is why I post mainly in the dark section.
Written 33 years ago. I have no clue why. Jaws maybe 
Far far out, in the waters deep
all the fish, silently sleep
everything is so quiet, so still
the Shark I see, is waiting to kill
a boat is sailing in the distance
the two men not knowing
of the Sharks existence
one of the men, goes diving for treasure
I know he will be gone forever
the Shark will take him in its grip
away the mans life will slowly slip
now that man is here with me
in deaths land for eternity
Far far out, in the waters deep
all the fish, silently sleep
everything is so quiet, so still
the Shark I see, is waiting to kill
a boat is sailing in the distance
the two men not knowing
of the Sharks existence
one of the men, goes diving for treasure
I know he will be gone forever
the Shark will take him in its grip
away the mans life will slowly slip
now that man is here with me
in deaths land for eternity
I really don't know. It was probably for school or for fun, at 5 or 6 years old, and I don't have it anymore. Plus, it would have been in Portuguese, so useless here. I'll just share one of my very first poems (and not just lyrics or something) in English, from 2008:
A crying river lies here,
A watery soul that I see.
A resonant pain I can hear,
In the solitude of its tears.
An echoing rage flies high,
With the stream that evades and then rains,
To reunite with the screaming earth,
Feeling dead, but giving birth.
My reflection I can't see,
In the crying river that lies here.
Darkened by agony, by vanished desires,
Left alone in the forest, its unrequested empire.
I added it to my first published book, my Portuguese book, for my Portuguese-speaking audience, as if that made any sense.
A crying river lies here,
A watery soul that I see.
A resonant pain I can hear,
In the solitude of its tears.
An echoing rage flies high,
With the stream that evades and then rains,
To reunite with the screaming earth,
Feeling dead, but giving birth.
My reflection I can't see,
In the crying river that lies here.
Darkened by agony, by vanished desires,
Left alone in the forest, its unrequested empire.
I added it to my first published book, my Portuguese book, for my Portuguese-speaking audience, as if that made any sense.
Anonymous
My first poem was in the office of a court-ordered therapist during the first (of many) of my parents' custody battles. It was a haiku, I was 6 and a half, something like this ( I don't remember it exactly)
"daddy and mommy
fight all the time, it stinks,
I am very very sad."
But I said it out load at first, as a response to a question. Then my therapist said, that sounds like a poem. When I entered second grade and we learned about syllables and poetry and the haiku poem, the above happened. So technically I was 7 when I "wrote" it or became a legit poem.
"daddy and mommy
fight all the time, it stinks,
I am very very sad."
But I said it out load at first, as a response to a question. Then my therapist said, that sounds like a poem. When I entered second grade and we learned about syllables and poetry and the haiku poem, the above happened. So technically I was 7 when I "wrote" it or became a legit poem.
My first poem was about me thinking I was constantly in a dream. I would hurt myself to wake up. One day I ended up in the hospital then I wrote about it in a very deconstructed way. I posted it here on this site, thank goodness I memorized it.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/148189-wake-up/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/148189-wake-up/
My first real poem was "Aisumasen Renée", written in the early morning hours after John Lennon was killed, during my Senior year in high school in 1980. I had been up all that night after hearing about John’s death and decided there was no way I was going to school that morning. A couple of weeks before, just prior Thanksgiving break, I had done a terrible thing. There was a girl named Renee who was a sweet, innocent person that I had a huge crush on and wanted in the worst way to date.
I was in Electrical shop and Renee was in Cosmetology class across the hall. After finishing an exam early that day, I went to the back of the class and started writing a love letter to her. It started out very nice, but a few minutes later a couple of kids in class finished their exams and came over to see what I was up to. Well, as teenagers will do, they started teasing me and making suggestions as to what I should write in the letter. That was when all the trouble started.
I should have put the letter away and finished it at home, but peer pressure got the best of me and I wound up writing a dirty, nasty letter instead of the love letter I had intended to write. Whatever possessed me to give it to her after “we” were finished writing it is beyond my comprehension still. I gave it to a kid that was going to have his hair cut in the Cosmo class and he set it on her desk when she wasn’t looking. What happened next is painful and embarrassing to this day.
I could hear her crying from across the hall. Then I saw her walk past the classroom door into the office next door with tears running down her face. I’m not sure if I was more sorry for hurting her, or more afraid of what was about to happen to me. It’s awful to think I was worried about getting in trouble, but it’s the truth. Making her cry hurt me deeply, but the fear of the consequences was also very strong.
Then came the moment of truth I had to confess writing the letter. I had not signed it, with good reason, but I knew I would not get away with it, so there was no point in denying the inevitable. I went into the office, confessed and cried my eyes out. Renee wanted to know who had written the letter and she came to the door and saw me sitting there. She started crying again and ran away.
I felt like the lowest scum of the world and wanted to run away myself. Somehow I managed to avoid disciplinary action at school for it. Getting away with it was the worst thing that could’ve happened. All I could think about over the next few weeks was how I might apologize to her. Then came the night John Lennon was shot and I heard the song “Aisumasen”. It seemed like such a beautiful word and I knew immediately that it was the right one for me to let Renee know how I was feeling. I wrote the poem shortly after the song finished playing.
The next day I did not go to school because I was too upset and tired from having been up all night. I got up that afternoon and went to the mall to see if I could find a card that was appropriate for the poem. I found the perfect card with Snoopy apologizing. It just said “I’m Sorry” and that was all it had to say. Then as I was walking to the counter to pay for it, I saw this little statue of Snoopy crying and it also said, “I’m Sorry” on the base. I picked it up and got them both. After I wrote the poem in the card, I packaged them together in a box and mailed it to her. Renee forgave me and we became friends for a time after that. If I had not written that letter, I would never have started writing poetry. Still, I would rather not have written any of my poems if it meant I could go back in time and stop myself that day.
After she forgave me I came to realize how important that poem had been in the repenting process. I don’t know for sure how much of an impact it had on Renee’s forgiveness of me, but it most definitely affected me very deeply. Knowing that I could express my feelings to someone through a poem, and having my apology accepted, gave me a sincere respect for poetry. It wasn’t just an exercise in class anymore; it was a learning experience in life.
It was then that I decided I would continue to write poetry and only write it when my feelings inspired me to write. Poetry is not a game where practice makes perfect. I will not force poems out just to write something, even though all the books about how to write poetry tell you to write every day, as often as possible. To me, it seems false, like writing to please an audience rather than express what is in my heart. For me, that expression is the only reason to write poetry. Since that day I have written more than 300 poems. jj
I was in Electrical shop and Renee was in Cosmetology class across the hall. After finishing an exam early that day, I went to the back of the class and started writing a love letter to her. It started out very nice, but a few minutes later a couple of kids in class finished their exams and came over to see what I was up to. Well, as teenagers will do, they started teasing me and making suggestions as to what I should write in the letter. That was when all the trouble started.
I should have put the letter away and finished it at home, but peer pressure got the best of me and I wound up writing a dirty, nasty letter instead of the love letter I had intended to write. Whatever possessed me to give it to her after “we” were finished writing it is beyond my comprehension still. I gave it to a kid that was going to have his hair cut in the Cosmo class and he set it on her desk when she wasn’t looking. What happened next is painful and embarrassing to this day.
I could hear her crying from across the hall. Then I saw her walk past the classroom door into the office next door with tears running down her face. I’m not sure if I was more sorry for hurting her, or more afraid of what was about to happen to me. It’s awful to think I was worried about getting in trouble, but it’s the truth. Making her cry hurt me deeply, but the fear of the consequences was also very strong.
Then came the moment of truth I had to confess writing the letter. I had not signed it, with good reason, but I knew I would not get away with it, so there was no point in denying the inevitable. I went into the office, confessed and cried my eyes out. Renee wanted to know who had written the letter and she came to the door and saw me sitting there. She started crying again and ran away.
I felt like the lowest scum of the world and wanted to run away myself. Somehow I managed to avoid disciplinary action at school for it. Getting away with it was the worst thing that could’ve happened. All I could think about over the next few weeks was how I might apologize to her. Then came the night John Lennon was shot and I heard the song “Aisumasen”. It seemed like such a beautiful word and I knew immediately that it was the right one for me to let Renee know how I was feeling. I wrote the poem shortly after the song finished playing.
The next day I did not go to school because I was too upset and tired from having been up all night. I got up that afternoon and went to the mall to see if I could find a card that was appropriate for the poem. I found the perfect card with Snoopy apologizing. It just said “I’m Sorry” and that was all it had to say. Then as I was walking to the counter to pay for it, I saw this little statue of Snoopy crying and it also said, “I’m Sorry” on the base. I picked it up and got them both. After I wrote the poem in the card, I packaged them together in a box and mailed it to her. Renee forgave me and we became friends for a time after that. If I had not written that letter, I would never have started writing poetry. Still, I would rather not have written any of my poems if it meant I could go back in time and stop myself that day.
After she forgave me I came to realize how important that poem had been in the repenting process. I don’t know for sure how much of an impact it had on Renee’s forgiveness of me, but it most definitely affected me very deeply. Knowing that I could express my feelings to someone through a poem, and having my apology accepted, gave me a sincere respect for poetry. It wasn’t just an exercise in class anymore; it was a learning experience in life.
It was then that I decided I would continue to write poetry and only write it when my feelings inspired me to write. Poetry is not a game where practice makes perfect. I will not force poems out just to write something, even though all the books about how to write poetry tell you to write every day, as often as possible. To me, it seems false, like writing to please an audience rather than express what is in my heart. For me, that expression is the only reason to write poetry. Since that day I have written more than 300 poems. jj
I must have been about 14 and I'd
been sent to my room for something
my big brother had done. I can't
remember it exactly, but it was
roughly: I'm sorry, dad,
But I didn't do it,
And you were only mad
Because you knew it...
It's always stuck with me because
of the injustice of the situation,
which I guess hits hard at fourteen...
been sent to my room for something
my big brother had done. I can't
remember it exactly, but it was
roughly: I'm sorry, dad,
But I didn't do it,
And you were only mad
Because you knew it...
It's always stuck with me because
of the injustice of the situation,
which I guess hits hard at fourteen...
