A bit of poetry: Samples from University 3

So, since I have declared May my personal poetry month, I will be posting some of my "found" poetry throughout the month (I've written very little recently unfortunately).

You may read earlier posts on poetry here and here and here.

And, as usual.....

For your entertainment or potential edification, a few poems of mine from the early 1990s. Which, yes, means I was very young. Very young.

This poetry -- be forewarned -- is a sampling of some of my more "intense" writing.

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Nonexistence...
-- February 20, 1991

I grasp the shattered fragments of reality.
      - But are shattered fragments true?
      - Can bits of reality be reality?

I have lost my delusions.
      - I have lost my illusions.

My mind no longer wanders down the beaten path.
      - The path trod down by imagination
      - By the figments in my mind.

The plain is free, wide, open, expansive
      - There is no end
      - There is no beginning
      - Only space.

                  Space            Space

      - The heavens of infinite width, length
      - No point of return; for nothing exists.

Existence? Once I had the question formulated....
      - There was a worn grassy path.

......Dirt scattered and trampled weeds......

A grey stone - no markings; round, smooth
      - a marker; a marker to existence.

- I kicked the stone aside before.
      I wanted to uncover the truth.

There is no truth.

There is no longer a path.
There are no longer any paths.
They've all disappeared...raked over to fresh unmarked earth.

      I am lost again.
      In Nothing.
      In Space.

In my wide open expansive field. My mind roams, no sense, no direction. Only shattered bits of the stone as simple ironies. Mocking. Marking the nonexistent path...(to nowhere).


***

The Fly
-- February 21, 1991

I know an old woman who swallowed a fly
I don't know why
            she swallowed that fly.
I know a little girl who burned her arm
Why would she harm
            her own tender arm?
I don't know why
            she swallowed the fly.

                  The fly didn't do any harm
                  So why did she burn her arm?

            I don't know why.             I don't know why.
                        So stop asking me why.

                  The fly swatter was not to be found
                  So how else can a problem be got around?

I know an old woman who swallowed a fly
I don't know why
            she swallowed the fly.

      Physical pain is so much easier to solve and deal.
      A dab of neosporin, and a bandaid seal.

I know a little girl who burned her arm
Why would she harm
            her own tender arm?

      The emotional side of her was in shambles,
      Her heart nestled in the thick brambles.

I don't know why
            she swallowed the fly.

      Outside, the girl is the woman, strong and tall.
      Inside, the girl is the fly, trapped and small.

Why would she harm
            her own tender arm?

      The fear, the blackness, the other within her: so meek.
      Now there is a door, an opening, a small tiny leak....

I don't know why
            her own tender arm....