An old poem

Way back, well...way, way way back in 1989 I wrote the following poem. I was a freshman in high school and into dark heavy metal music. I wanted to write something that had depth and spoke of something other than the typical love vs hate. When a few of my friends saw it as we were dressing for gym, they freaked out. They said they really liked it. I still remember and it still makes me smile, even though it is a dark little poem. I barely ended up graduating high school. My history class and my math class has failing grades.  Math and history just did not seem important then. Hanging out with my friends and getting a job were in the forefront of my mind, hasty as it was. My history teacher saw some writing I had submitted to the school's literary magazine. He asked me if I really wrote it. I told him yes, I could recite it. He passed me with a C. He then asked me if I had other failing grades. I shyly told him I did in math, a 65%, an F. He asked me who the teacher was and called her. They discussed my writing. She passed me with a D. I do wonder looking back if I had actually studied what my grades would have been. I do think school is important, but most of us realize long after the fact. A few years ago a music friend saw my old, worm copy of the lit magazine and read this and a few others I had written that were published in the magazines. He was speechless and told me that I must share them. I guess today is as good as yesterday! Anyway, I hope you find the poem interesting. Thank you for reading!

Memories

Memories of the morbid faith,

Tears stream down my face,

Awful anthems they made us sing,

I felt so out of place.

Antebellum, when all was calm,

Your anterior age was screaming,

As you struggled to remain a fighter,

The devil began his scheming.

An argus, you watched over your space,

A member, you stood next to them,

Questioning your mind and credences,

How can you give into him?

Answers that surrender,

You're coming home at last,

Much too late, I fear your arrival,

It seems we've killed your past.

copyright Beth Sutton 1989

 

3 comments

  • Jerry Hyslope

    Jerry Hyslope Jellico tn

    You use words and memories very well.

    You use words and memories very well.

  • Gene B.

    Gene B. Lafollette, TN

    Deep, as usual. Enjoyed.

    Deep, as usual. Enjoyed.

  • The Knoxville Girl

    The Knoxville Girl

    Jerry Hyslope, thank you for your kind words. Gene B., thank you. I appreciate you reading it, too!

    Jerry Hyslope, thank you for your kind words.
    Gene B., thank you. I appreciate you reading it, too!

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