While going through my high school stuff, I came across a rare gem -- my K-8 English portfolio. The single most intriguing piece in the entire folder was a poetry project from 7th grade, appropriately entitled "Heather Chan's Stupendous Poetry Project from the: [insert hand-drawn image of shining lightbulb] Imagination". I think I must have been having a wacky day that day.
Now, I've never enjoyed poetry all that much, nor do I consider myself to have any talent at it. I was thus amazed to find that I sort of enjoyed reading some of my poems rather than simply cringing and throwing them out at once. More fascinating than my childish grasp of the literary element was simply being able to hear how I thought as a 12-year-old.
I thought I'd post a couple of the poems just to have them around after I stick this project in my "to be saved" crate, and also just in case anyone else finds them as amusing as I do. Here comes the first poem in the packet...
PERSONAL POEM: "Me"-SelfMy name is Heather, meaning "earth child," my teacher says.
I can't think why that could possibly be!
I think of myself as more of a person in flight than on earth.
Not stabilized, like the flower "heather," I love to try new things,
often enjoying them, but sometimes not.
Though I hate it, kids seem to look up to me, hearing my name.
Especially Tom Swart, who keeps insisting,
that what "Heather" really means is "the smartest."
I couldn't really imagine having another name.
"Heather Chan" is so well suited to me!
In fact, the two words are inseparable, since always, it seems,
and they will always be in times to come.
That's the name by which everyone knows me,
and in fact, I don't often answer to "Heather!"
It needs the "Chan" for the special ring,
to which I always answer.
Inside me, there lives a monkey, wild as the wind.
Very clever in most situations, but panicky in some.
I can be SO dense at the stupidest times,
it's a wonder that kids still have respect for me.
One of my friends once joked to everyone,
"The thing that Heather Chan lacks is common sense!"
I can honestly see why anyone might think so.
I really can overlook the obvious at times!
There are thousands of elastic bands within my heart.
With my friends and family, or new people that I meet,
when someone is sad or lonely, the elastic stretches out to them,
and I try my hardest to make them happy and forget their problems.
But when someone betrays my trust, their elastic band can snap in an instant!
It will take a long time to replace theirs with another one.
Once it has happened once, I can't be sure when it will happen again,
and so, I am much more cautious when stretching out if they need it.
On my forehead, there is a word printed in bold, black letters:
Contradiction.
This is because I am a MASS of contradictions as far as my personality goes.
I will be unbelievably thoughtful and farseeing one moment,
and the next, I'll be off in another world, oblivious to my surroundings.
I will surprise my friends from time to time by going out of my way to make them happy,
but then I will become angry and mean one way or another.
Sometimes I'll help people openly when they need it but don't ask,
but other times, I will help them without their ever knowing it.
I love the sound of
outside, the leaves rustling, the animals playing.
I love to hear the calls of the birds as they fly overhead in the trees.
I like to lay down on the grass, all stretched out,
and listen to the world on sunny, breezy days.
What I hate to hear is thunder, as the crack of lightning illuminates the sky.
I hate it because I know that with each flash and boom, lightning strikes somewhere,
and somewhere in the world, destruction is taking place,
whether it's in the middle of a forest, or right near someone's home.
My favorite time of day is in the afternoon, after school.
I am free from the pressures of school and learning.
Free to play, and to enjoy myself, I run about in the outside.
I could call up a friend, and go hang out, swim, or maybe go for a bike ride.
There are also trees to climb, piles of leaves to jump in,
and in winter, there's always the snow to wallow in.
The afternoon is always fun for me and my friends,
when it's a nice day outside, perfect for playing.
If they could speak, my hands would say how they wanted a break.
A break from playing instruments, from writing, from typing this poem,
and from just holding things, and playing with them.
My hands never do seem to rest, busy as they are all day long.
I wonder if they could take a break for a day,
and maybe have my feet do things instead.
My hands are very special, and they help me to do many things.
I think they really do deserve a break!
I remember walking through the woods by my neighborhood,
a couple of years ago, with some of my friends.
We pushed our way through the brush, laughing the whole time,
until we burst into a clearing, and saw a little creek running by.
It was only perhaps 3 feet wide, and so we decided to leap across.
After we had done so, we glanced around us, and saw something very odd.
There was a log cabin on the bank, half of its ceiling collapsed,
and a chair lay on the ground by it, marred by many dents and scratches.
Something my brother says each and every time to me,
whenever I have done something extremely well,
always makes me feel good inside, and hopeful,
that I can be even better the next time.
This phrase that he uses to express his approval,
is sometimes echoed by my family and friends,
and he uses the same exact words every time:
"Heather, you never cease to amaze me, you know that?"
And there it is. My immediate thoughts after/while reading this:
1. Hmm. I wonder if the punctuation is actually supposed to go outside of the quotation marks.
2. I should see if Tom Swart is on Facebook.
3. Wow, even back then I was "Heather Chan". What am I going to do when I get married?
4. There's a monkey living inside me?!
5. I still lack common sense.
6. I had more fun after school as a kid.
7. The log cabin anecdote is kind of random. Maybe we were supposed to mention an adventure or something.
8. My brother is awesome.
[EDIT: Ooh, sorry about the spillover from the longer lines. Too lazy to figure out how to make it not do that.]
