Juvenilia
You have to start somewhere I guess. Today I stumbled across a bunch of poems I wrote in my mid-teens - around 55 years ago. As a child, I loved written words - not just reading other people's words but actively trying to string my own words together to make stories and poems. I think that my creative urge was innate and there was nothing I could do about it. It was just there. Several of the poems are about romantic love and a deep adolescent longing to be with someone, to connect, to find a soulmate. Looking back through the years I find these poems interesting in that they reflect my teenage immaturity and inexperience. Something is stirring in me and I am trying to give it wings to fly. It's like I'm feeling my way through the dark. I wrote this in 1969:- MY PRECIOUS PERHAPS Perhaps, one day, there will be me and there will be you And we shall have a love To share - For better or for worse. But now for me there's disillusion And for you there's someone else But ...