Oh my goodness, I have hit the mother-load of all embarrassing things!

One Christmas, when I was eleven-years-old, my brother gave me a book of Tupac Shakur’s poetry called The Rose that Grew from Concrete. I poured over it.  I was obsessed not only with his poetry but also with the way he collected and organized it, the way his handwriting would suddenly changed or he would sketch in the margins or use his own codes and shorthand.  From that moment on, I started carrying notebooks around and writing poetry like a madwoman.  I had always written and always kept diaries and journals, but I started to keep poetry books instead.  I was a girl possessed.  I began this fervent poetry collecting when I was eleven and it faded off when I reached seventeen or eighteen-years-old.  That was around the time I started wanting to branch out from poetry.  Not only that, but I was hyper-focused on getting into college.

As I was thinking about what to write this week for Boomerang, I remembered that Valentine’s Day was approaching on Saturday so I brainstormed V-Day-esque ideas.  Much to my chagrin, I remembered that I stored all of my old poetry books in a readily accessible place and promptly thought, Oh Ariel, wouldn’t it be just the best thing ever to share some of your really old, hormonal love poetry?

For most of my life, I have been petrified by the idea of sharing my writing.  I have done it occasionally and I had to learn to do it more often when I went to college.  At Temple, I took a creative writing course in order to give myself writing deadlines and also so I would be forced to share my work and have it critiqued.  It was an exercise in overcoming my fear…submersion therapy for my phobia.  As it turned out, contrary to my original beliefs, I did not die when my work was critiqued.  Weird, right?

Anyway, now that I’m all grown up and on the Internet spilling my guts constantly, I thought it would be hilarious to share this old poetry that I kept locked away like a dirty secret for so long.  More submersion therapy.  It was a lot of fun looking through all this stuff, but oh boy it was just…wow.  Puberty, I tell ya.

I found a lot of gems in there.  There was a poem written for Washington Irving (wtf, Ariel?).  In a different poem, I wrote about my hypothetical guardian angel who was apparently a war-hating, black-winged prankster who fell from Heaven and had black fire in her eyes.  Goth much? (I love it so.)  After sifting through the many poems about Kurt Cobain, Emily Dickinson, cemeteries and Lord of the Rings, I found a couple of really “stellar” love poems.  And by stellar, I mean oh my god, I am glad I’m not a teenager anymore.

I am both mortified and delighted to share them because they’re hilariously angst-ridden and melodramatic and sentimental.  And bad.  So, so bad.

I hope my adolescent pain doesn’t cause you too much pain and you will still find it in your hearts to come back and visit this blog.  Even more so, I hope you’re inspired to share some lachrymose relics from your adolescence.  Poems, notes, paintings?  COME ON…we ALL have them.

My books!  Here they are in all their glory!

My books! Here they are in all their glory!

It’s ok to laugh.  I have been this entire time…laughing and covering my eyes with my hands in exasperation.  Ok…deep breath…here goes:

“I Was Listening”

Age: 11

You said you loved me…in secret.
But I was there listening.
Now the clouds have parted
And the sun is glistening!

Do you really love me?
Is it really true?
I don’t really know yet—
Except that I love you!

You came up to me today
And said it with innocent eyes
With you, nervous before me, I gave in
Much to my surprise

You said you loved me…today.
I don’t want to think
When it will fade away
It just makes my heart sink.

Phew.  That was something.  I love how it starts off so cheerful and then quickly turns dark and pessimistic.  Typical. Ok, now that’s out there, let’s move on…

“Tell Me”

Age: 12

Tell me your secrets
I promise to always keep them
Safe and warm in my pocket
Safe and sound in the hem

I don’t want to need
I only want to love.
Every moment this feeling lurks
Pulses through my blood

I will keep you secret,
I will keep you well.
Just promise that I’ll taste your kiss
And lift my soul that fell

Once our secrets have been told
We can then escape
And warm inside my very heart,
I will keep you safe.


Age: 12

We touched each other’s hands
In the black woods
And suddenly we knew each other
And all of our divine secrets.

Our blood flowed together
Through our eyes as we stared
We held each other’s gaze
And suddenly loved each other.

We took each other’s flaws
In with our lips
Protecting us from dust and ash
That threatened to fill our mouths.

And gold light found its way down to us
Through all the remains and rubble
It circled all around us,
Our hearts locked together.

This is killing me…KILLING ME!! But it’s so much fun.

“Because I Love You”

Age: 13

I’d give anything to watch you sleep.
The heavenly swish of your breath.
Soft and gentle, yet so deep
Whispering dreams colorful and fresh.

I lie around the house in your shirt
Smelling your sensuous scent.
Your long arms around me, we flirt
The sweet smiles can’t relent.

My love expands like the universe does
My love could fuel the stars.
Amazing how I could put such trust
In something so very far.

I want to stare in your blue eyes forever
Until the glitter seems to quell.
And your hair is pail as heather
Until water and wind and fire fail

I would give anything to watch you sleep
To kiss lovely dreaming eyes.
At least until an alarm clock beeps
And all the dreams must die.

“Don’t forget what you need!”
And a kiss just for the ride.
That’s when my lovely heart bleeds
For I must go and you must bide.

I’ll sing a song, dance with the air
Close my eyes to see you again
And touch your heather hair
So beautiful until the end.

Always, because I love you.

First of all, why are all the poems I’ve picked out so far in four stanzas and mostly rhyme?  Not all my poems are like this…but apparently a lot of the love poems are.  Also, that last poem?  I was thirteen, what imaginary adult relationship am I in where I’m living with the person and waking up to their alarm clock and seeing them off to work?

“Love’s Torrent”

Age: 14

Love’s torrent wildly gushes,
Runs between the rocks.
Silvery hand caresses the life
That swirls
And breathes within it.
I’m taken by the current,
So forceful
Yet soft and velveteen.
Gush, gush, gush
Run over my body.
Embrace me in your arms
And carry me
Far, far away.
Oh! Loves Torrent Wildly Gushes!
Violently drowns me
With its sparkling, silverly,
Soft, soft hands.


A peak inside one of the covers.  It's like a time capsule!

A peak inside one of the covers. It’s like a time capsule!

“Nice Night for A Walk”

Age: 15

No matter how old I get
I’ll always have this night
to hold close
and cherish,
Love like I’ve never loved before.
The air was thick and sweet
like a birthday cake.

The darkness was icing,
The stars were candles.

This town,
with all its faults,
was glorious and filled with the sound
of our light and lusty laughter.
We were alive
and our togetherness was our
life support. 

The park seems more mature in darkness
So we gave in
And shared our secret sweets
With the lovely, plastic castle.
The wind would stop in
to say hello
as we swung ourselves in
strange canopies.

In and out faded your words.
Our words,
they meant something.
They spoke of greater things
and shone with moonlight,
comforting and grey.
In those moments
on that slippery surface we slid across
I knew I could be whole.
I could mean everything
to somebody.
I was whole.

I was complete
as we passed through basketball courts.
We pointed discreet fingers at
the Catholic School
and whispered every fear it fed us
to those stars.
They winked
like it was one big joke.

I understood.
It was.

Careless words did come
tumbling from my tongue,
but they were good
and had an air of innocence
that I liked.

The rain had come before us
to clear the macadam
of dirty deeds and deadly sins
So it would be ok for us to
run and dance,
and we did.
We sucked in every second
like they were our last breaths

and who was to say they wouldn’t be?

It was a beautiful thing
to be cradled
in the silk of the moment.
We were covered with black velvet,
and the sleepy skeletons
inside their houses,
recharging for me,
were not there
to share

Most of me was glad that this
silent town slept.
The other bit felt bad.
But there was no remorse
because there was no time.
And rain had already washed the streets
of such things.

We spun in concentric circles
of loves and hopes and laughters
and it was one of those rare times
when you truly know happiness.
For that hour
this town, for all its faults,
was showered
with a succulent, sweet sentiment. 

Two poems and that’s it, I can’t take it anymore.

“A Poem about my Passion”

Age: 15 

I carry the weight of you
Inside of me,
Like a cloud
Saturated with its own sweat.
I am so tired
I am burned black by
My passions
And I peel,
Layer by layer.
I become dust
That will not settle.
You walk down
hard-plated halls,
And I lift from the
metal walls,
twisting locks and tripping
to keep my pace
behind you,
inhaling the air you pass through.
It is a cocoon
to my heart
and all it contains.


Age: 16

Hours and hours
in dark holes,
Longing to surface and find you.
When were these days
When your black hair
breathed and swayed
in the same damp air
as mine?
I have my lovers and
you have your mind,
but you…
you are a forbidden fruit
Hanging temptingly
in this wet garden
of mud, money and rock.

I think that every single one of those poems was each about a different person. Wow, did I have a lot of feelings.

I hope my overly sentimental former self brings you joy and laughter for days to come.

If you have anything embarrassing like that you feel you could share…do it!  I won’t feel like such a loser!


4 responses to “MY TEENAGE LOVE POETRY, PT 1

  1. No need to feel like a loser by yourself. I have all my old cringe worthy poetry… this was the only romantic one from when I was that young. I was such a little geek. I really can’t get past just how bad this is haha

    Age: 13/14 (approximately)

    “A Lady Made For Dreams…”

    You walk like a faerie without wings
    Or maybe an angel, without a harp to play
    Nevertheless, not of this world, for you seem far too special to be from here
    Maybe you are only a figment of my imagination or vision of bliss

    You have eyes that inspire even the saddest of poets
    A gaze that bards only wish they could write about
    Your have the whispering voice of a muse
    A laugh recorded by only the ear of wizards

    To touch my fingers to your hair
    Would be like stroking a cloud of silk
    Your beauty can only be compared by a dream…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. To answer your rhetorical question about what kind of imaginary adult relationship you’re in at age 13 in which you are waking up to their alarm clock and seeing them off to work…

    The answer is Elijah Wood.

    Liked by 1 person


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