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Life: A Poem From A Younger Me

It has been far too long since I posted anything on my humble blog. For most of this year, life has moved at an overwhelming pace. I have barely had time to sleep, let alone do things like personal blogging and running. It is only now, while I’m on a desperately needed vacation in South Africa, that I have been able to catch my breath.

Having been silent on my blog for so long, I’ve been struggling to decide what to say. Then, last week, a very close family friend dropped in for a visit and told me that she had come across a poem that I had written years ago.

When I say “years ago”, I actually mean decades. The poem is dated October 5th, 1986. I was sixteen years old and approaching the end of Grade 11.

And so today’s post is proudly brought to you by a much younger me.

life is like a play

Life

Life is like a play which starts at birth and ends at death
The play is divided into acts –
Each act represents a part of your life
And each act is important however big or small it is
The acts are divided into scenes –
Each scene reveals an element of your inner self
And each scene is as important as every other scene

Just as scenes make up an act
Each element of your character makes up the whole you
And just as acts make up a whole play
You alone can make your life

There are no prompts to tell you what to do or say –
It all comes from you
You alone can decide how you want to play your part
And you alone can play that part

You are not the only actor on the stage –
For the play to be a success
The actors must consider each other
And give each other a chance to speak
And persevere to enjoy acting with each other –
For where there’s a stage there will always be actors

There will never be another you
And therefore the play would not be the same without you
You are a one in a million actor
This is the only chance you will ever have to act in this play
Therefore you should act your part to the full
And give whatever you can to improve the set
So that when the curtain comes down on you
Everyone, including you – a unique, valuable actor
Can smile at what you have given to this play

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit: Tim Green. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.

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Prince Of Dreams

One of my assignments for last term’s writing class was to write a poem about two characters interacting in a situation of conflict. I baulked at this more than a little. I love to write, and I like to think that I’m good at it – but I absolutely suck at poetry. I struggle to read it, and I struggle to write it. Four hours before the midnight deadline, I was trying to figure out what the hell to do with this assignment. At the same time, I was locked in a power struggle with George, who was just refusing to go to bed. Eventually – EVENTUALLY – he went to sleep, and I returned to my dilemma. As I sat there sipping a glass of Merlot, the poem I had been searching for came to me. This is what I wrote…

2012-09-09 23.16.49

Beautiful mind, gentle soul
The boy is different, yet strangely whole

He speaks with movement; he talks with his eyes
His spirit is pure; he tells no lies

He seems to be fragile, but has a strong will
Potential, desires and dreams he’ll fulfill

Tonight he won’t consent to be led
His mother cannot get him ready for bed

She coaxes, cajoles and softly convinces
He declines with a sigh, the most regal of princes

A thousands breaths later she lays down her child
By now he is sleepy, so tender and mild

She keeps watch by the bed and watches him sleep
The feeling of love so profound, so deep

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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beauty without limits

I am participating in the Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, in which I publish a post every day for the month of April, based on health-related prompts.

April 21 – Health madlib poem: Go to http://www.languageisavirus.com/cgi-bin/madlibs.pl and fill in the parts of speech and the site will generate a poem for you. Feel free to post the Madlib or edit it to make it better.

When I read this prompt, I thought it would be easy. It turned out to be a lot more challenging than I had expected. The Madlib gave me a poem that was beautiful in some parts, nonsensical in others. I had to throw out the first couple of attempts, and I finally got something that I could edit into something I could like. As tough as this exercise was, it was a lot of fun. Everyone should give it a try!

quietly i have never run, softly beyond my heart
my son, your smile is full of love
in your most happy tears are things which surprise me,
on which i cannot speak because they are too deep

your beautiful look profoundly will move me
though i have tried to understand
you see things in ways that are beyond me
exploring your world thoughtfully, intensely

your potential reaches the stars and sun
i move my world for you so that you may fly
i cross the ocean for you to know no limits
your path is different and the road is challenging

nothing gets in the way of your growth
the strength of your shy wonder: my child
i smile at the beauty of your blond hair
your blue eyes bright and sparkling with life

i would run to the ends of the world for you
so the world can be yours
you are amazing: son, brother, friend
your heart is pure, your smile lights up the sky

By Kirsten Doyle with a little help from e.e. cummings