I recently came across a book of poems. It was published in 1995, when I was twelve years old. I was part of a poetry group. People of various ages and backgrounds who met at Barnes and Noble once a week to share our poetry. My dad was nice enough to drive me there every Sunday to meet with this eccentric group of people. My parents never told me I was too young for something like that. They never discouraged my creativity. So I started reading some of these poems written by these beautiful people who I've long since lost touch with. It got me in a poetry kind of mood!
So here's one of mine from when I was 12 years old...
The sun is the Earth's fire
Bowing from on high
Showing us light and dark, and
Lending colors to the sky
Ducking from the moon at night
And talking to the stars
Waving to the mountain peaks
And fading paint on cars
Thank you mom and dad for supporting my creativity then and now! I can't remember who helped me come up with that last line...but I'd be willing to bet my dad had something to do with it.
