First Poem On Coffee House Writers

Today my poem The Death Of A Small Town Generation went live on Coffee House Writers.

It sucked to write.

The worst thing is that, as a Millennial, I know this experience is not unique. Even before COVID-19 hit, another epidemic had hit the United States.

This image is from the article linked above.

I’m going to try and instead think back to when some of the people I am thinking about were still alive. Here’s a really old picture of me – my hair is barely even dyed!

This picture was taken in 2010

Anyways.

The poem is there. I’m not going to ask for people to like it because I don’t like the topic and I don’t want others to like it.

If you want to discuss it, I encourage that. At least then it’s being talked about.

If you want to share it, please do. Then others are seeing it and that helps more people talk about a problem that is all too quiet.

Thanks.

Untitled Poems 1 – 4

Yesterday, I began sorting boxes my parents delivered over a year ago after Jacob and I moved into the house. One of these boxes was a mix of school papers, including some of my earliest poetry. These are the poems I’d forgotten about.

Based on the folder, they were written sometime between 2000 and 2005, so I was between ages 10 and 16. As I go through these some will be hilarious and worth keeping for that reason alone. Some are insights into the mind of an adolescent alive during that time period and the observations they chose to write down.

I’m started with a series of four untitled poems, four lines each. Now, enjoy some childish, painful forced rhyme.


Poem 1

Sometimes I’m jealous
Of those who win
All the things
That might have been


Poem 2

We tend to love
What time we waste
The past is delicious;
Time? An acquired taste.


Poem 3

Oh Glory Be! In times we say
As all hope drifts far away
It is the clouded sea she took
And my heart – a little brook


Poem 4

Sometimes the world just passes by
A shock so sudden we can’t cry
With each candle on birthday cake
Comes regret with decisions we make


Thank you for taking the time to read these today! Without you these posts don’t carry the same meaning. Have you ever found any of your old writing? What did you think of it? What do you think of these? I’d love to hear in the comments!

If you’d like to see more of my forgotten poetry, please like, comment, and/or share this post. It helps me know what content my readers are most interested in seeing, so I can better know what to share here.

A Moment Aflame – A Poem

Here’s a poem I wrote in 2016. Some poems age into themselves and their meanings change to readers over time based on current events. I won’t attempt to provide explanation or analysis. I do hope it resonates with you though.

As usual, the poem is mostly unrelated to the image

A Moment Aflame

at tables cleaned and polished by our own hands we sit
attempting personal renaissance:
a moment in time caught fire.
we sit, write, talk, eat, drink, breathe in-
to creation
the desperation
for a life out-
side of this very existence
controlled by desire to satiate the disease of purpose
symptoms driven deep into young minds by
careless words;
unanswered questions:
unfulfilled dreams pushed onto another generation
as lost grown children wander with empty eyes and imploding hearts.

they told us we were equal,
instead,
we are searching for explanations –
why this world has treated our existences like matches:
struck aflame
burned out
thrown away

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this poem today. If it speaks to you and you find connection, please let me know by liking, commenting, or sharing this post. This helps me know which posts my readers like best.

Remember, without you these words would serve no one other than myself and the company getting paid to host the data.