Tag: Teen Angst

Remembering My First Real… Kiss

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems10 Comments

I was sixteen.
I’d just been dumped
By a girl I wasn’t actually with
And who was using me
To get something else

The beautiful neighbor girl
From across the street
Had tried to tell me
This would happen
But I didn’t listen

I knocked on the neighbor girl’s door
Because I needed a friend who understood
And we talked out in my front yard
As the night grew darker
And the wind blew colder

This neighbor, who was a stunning beauty
[Actually, she still is. You know, Facebook]
As we finished our conversation
Impulsively kissed me.
It was incredible, my first kiss.

Why, I’ll never know.
It certainly never happened again.
I made as regular a practice as I could
After that time
Of kissing girls
And that kiss was one of the top four, all-time
At least, until I met my wife

Occasionally, now,
When beautiful neighbor girl (now woman) and I
Trade pleasantries online
I think about that night

I don’t know why she did it
But when she kissed me
She lifted my spirits
In such a way that
They’ve never really come down again

 
(“Remembering My First Real… Kiss” – 8-7-2014)

Old Poem, Written Age 15

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems5 Comments

I have these
Fugitive visions

They come and go like
Dappled sunlight through windblown leaves

I see you in them
I seem us in them

But the fantasy that burns within me
Burns out

Before I ever

Get a chance

To see your face

you never knew…

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i never told you how i felt
before you went away;
although we’d sat in class together
several times a day

for you were dating someone else,
and i just let you be;
you never knew i thought about you
daily, constantly

you transferred in our junior year,
while i nearby did stay;
i saw you once or twice again
but never did i say

my feelings were a secret, which
i’ve held fast, faithfully:
i loved you in my way, but thought
you were too good
for me

Diaries of Another Summer (8)

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems2 Comments

She was eighteen, I was fourteen,
All I had were dreams;
Damn, those were confusing visions,
With recurrent themes —

I felt tortured every night.
I’d try to get some rest:
There she was, then, on the beach,
And I just felt possessed.

Images and strange new feelings;
Latency and double dealings,
Sonia smiling down at me,
That was perfect misery.

Fear that follows like a sickness,
Puberty’s a sorry business.
Tortured visions, out of reach —
Sonia, smiling, on the beach.

I was fourteen, reaching desperate;
I was short on clues —
Damn, it was bewildering,
Although, back then, ’twas news

How nights were made for boys to suffer
Sights they can’t avoid:
Then our awkward first essayings,
Girls just get annoyed.

Images and strange new feelings;
Hours, looking up at ceilings,
Sonia smiling down at me,
That was perfect misery.

Fear that follows fear with swiftness,
Puberty’s a sorry business.
Tortured visions, out of reach —
Sonia, smiling, on the beach.

Teenage passions poured in streams:
Sonia, laughing, in
My dreams

Secret Crush

On By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems3 Comments

Four different classes, four different desks –
Four different views across the room –
A smile, a look, a fleeting glance,
A few words exchanged waiting to go out the door –

And it’s secret — it’s a real secret —
No best friends know; no parents, no siblings –
Just furtive thoughts round about bedtime,
Just… wondering, looking over during a football game

At someone
Ensconced in a different crowd
Secure in ignorance

While a secret, faithfully kept

Dies, like his soul

A slow

  and lingering

    death

I Wouldn’t Understand

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She said that she was sad, but that
I wouldn’t understand;
I said I likely wouldn’t,
But I’d try –

She said her hair looked stupid; that
She always felt outside –
And that she really liked
A certain guy;

But all the girls liked him, and he
Had never noticed her.
She said she really longed
To see this band —

But it was far away, and she
Was not allowed to go.
Her parents didn’t trust her
In the end.

And mister “Certain Guy” was going,
She could tag along —
It would be perfect, so that
He could see

That she was special, different;
She felt like she would shine –
And at the concert: Magic,
Destiny —

And there are those I know who’d say
That hers were first world problems;
To worry about boys
And about hair —

But I felt bad for her, for while
Her troubles were quite common:
They all were new to her
And hard
To bear

Crushed

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“It’s just a crush,” they told him,
“You’ll grow out of it,” they said;
Well, it’s been thirteen years,
And there she is, still in his head —

For being young does not mean
One can’t tell false love from true;
Or know the ache of loving someone
Who does not love
You

[As is frequently true, the ubiquitous “they” were wrong – Owen]

senseless

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in visions, she was always there;
to my charms, quite defenseless —
yes, all my dreams were stupid ones:
for i myself, was senseless

i didn’t sense she hated me,
i didn’t sense her loathing:
i didn’t see she fair despised
my hair, cologne, and clothing

and so, the dreams persisted still
of walking there together,
of holding hands on sunlit days
or any kind of weather

but then, one day, i got some sense.
she told me i was hated:
a thing she long had longed to say
and said, while quite elated

to rid herself of one like me
and all my senseless dreaming:
yes, nothing bores a bigger hole
than getting a
good reaming