The first poem you ever wrote

[hutch]

he he... you shoulda checked my profile. Birthday's on there. You could have strung it out a little longer.

 

DAMB...I rushed it

[hutch]

My first poem

was called 'Purple berry bush'.

I couldnt believe when I got an (A-) for a series of these poems which I wrote in the 10 mins before my major assessment for english class was due in year 9. Before this event I never enjoyed reading or writing- but poetry has since stayed with me for life. Writing has become one of my favourite things to do. Wordsmitthing

I'd have to dig it up somewhere, but it had these lines in it, and started:

purple berry bush growing from my toe, fed on the smell- I dont know.

Purple berry bush growing from my knee, fed on pain not on glee..

purple berry bush growing from my mind.. because the past was my pain,

but now is my time.

The poem was actually my stream of consciousness irritation at having to write it.

I was simply shocked when I noticed that my feeling spoke straight forth when speaking abstractly,

and worked themselves out by the end of the poem. Its like through poetry I learned a whole new way to talk. It was nice, and its afar easier medium to think and communicate in.

The problem is few others seem to understand the large chunks when they're looking for details,

and those that do understand are creating their own meaning anyhow

 

I like it...You would have to wonder what makes one think of a "purple berry bush" but...the mind is weird. For me it makes me think of a females pubic mound....

But I'm sick

[hutch]

well i only have 1 to share:

lol was an ode to my daughters pet rat that i sent to her with a photo of him-

all i have to offer really, first and last poem ive ever written-

there is a rat, his name is sniffy,

my daughter thinks hes kinda spiffy,

in his cage, he makes a bed,

his favorite meal, i think its bread.

I let him out, he likes to wander,

toward him does my heart grow fonder.

On his back, a big brown stripe,

upon my toe, he sometimes bites!

He hers me yelp, he starts to scutter,

why a rat? i then do mutter.

Bringing him home, i dont regret,

cos most of all, hes my girls pet.

well there u go.

bit cheesy. get it? rat? cheese?

uhh

 

"Ben the two of us need look no more"

We both found what we were looking for"

"With a friend to call my own, I'll never be alone"

" And this my friend you'll see, you got a friend in me"

My favorite Rat song.... I like your poem but...you made it rhyme.

Is the rat still kickin?

[incognito]

yeah hes still alive and well hes a GIANT rat now. but not so domesticated an friendly, as i dont handle him as much as i should have. Giant rats teeth not only hurt they injure!!!

he has survived an escape when he walked next door, about 300m, luckily its my uncles house, and my girl was giving him a speil about her rat only a few months ago.

i was surprised being the bushy that he is he didnt clonk it with a shovel, he caught it in a fishing net and put it in the recycling bin till he saw me next.

I quite like the sniff-dog, but yeah i just dont want to handle him anymore. HE has bitten me around 4 times on the toe, and once on the thumb. Teeth like chisels. He went through a stage i think when his balls where dropping, his 'teenage years' when he would just run out from under the chair and bite me on the toe. Id give him a gentle kick up the rear but the little fucker would take it as a challenge and run back for more.

I let him out of his cage quite frequently for a scutter, he sits on the side of my chair and stuff, but i prefer no physical contact haha

have to catch him with a pair of old jeans to put him back.

end of rat story.

[mud]

I like it...You would have to wonder what makes one think of a "purple berry bush" but...the mind is weird. For me it makes me think of a females pubic mound....

But I'm sick

 

Do you ever make a post in the net,

and then have a stoned moment that makes even more sense of things? Like, your own words catch up with you..?

I watched some David Grove, clean language metaphor stuff yesty. I worked with this poem.

As I re-explored the past with clean questions, slowly uncovering the metaphor..

I found that the purple berrys were the bright pinky/purple scars up my Dads arm after severe surgey. They had t oclamp his arm back shut, cos sitches wouldnt hold. It madea very big mess of him as the doctors tried radical surgey to create a new wrist at his elbow. I grew up with a Dad suffering chronic pain,

and the purple berry bush seems to have been my deep minds

attempt at moving this stuck flow. Of growing out and throught the difficulty of the challenge. Of coping with an adults pain and frustration. (The child absorbs such things)

The metaphor was given, shape and size and location and then asked "and what would the better bush like to do".

The answer was, "it would like to return to my Dad who owned that pain and suffering, and it would like to grow a green healthy plant throughout his suffering nervous system."

I felt an immediate sense of huge relief. Instant understanding and healing seemed to come from this and its allowed me to come to greater peace with certain angst regarding the force of others emotions and moods.

Quite WOW