Story Time Friday – Where It All Began, poetry

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fancy lineresizeThis week is going to be a little different than in the past. Part of establishing Story Time Friday was to get new work out from authors/poets and myself. It wasn’t to showcase old work that readers may have read already. It’s a way to expose the new, and to get everyone writing…which is what I need to do more regularly: write.

Instead of new work from me this week, I’m going to jump in the time machine and take you along with me. I’m posting three of my earliest poems. That’s right! OLD work. These are the first three poems written in the notebook I was using in the winter/spring of 2005, in 11th grade. They aren’t my first poems, but as close as possible as I can get to that fateful day in the fall of 2004 when I first wrote a poem. Those first few poems are long gone, but almost everything since is still available to read if I share it.

Please note that the only alteration I’ve done with these is to correct 2 words in the first two poems since I typed them without proofreading a few years ago. Other than that, despite REALLY wanting to rewrite them with the knowledge and style I have now, I’ve kept them in all their decade old glory of an angsty teen. I hope my newer work doesn’t sound as whinny, haha.

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poetry by Robert Zimmermann

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…So where do we go from here?

Tears on my pillow
Are Tears of sadness,
Are Tears of joy.
Tears soak my eyes, my face,
And my soul.
Now my smile prevails, with the sight
Of a goddess, sent down from Olympus.
Her beauty not even the Muses could rival.
Never has my heart ceased to beat,
Until she sang her song so sweet,
That sent my head into a spin
Like the Sirens of old, drawing me in,
Just to crash and burn in the end.
But the end is not here, we can still be friends?
I won’t win her back, only hold her close.
To my heart she made so clear
That Love can’t be defined here.
Only felt, and felt only it can be
It forced on preempted
Disaster will soon be near…
…So where do we go from here?

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What He’s Told

Happiness will never come to a man,
Who never knew the meaning.
Only saw it on T.V., a perfect world of disbelief.
Living out his fantasies.
But in the end there is no relief.
The pressure builds up inside.
The doors are shut,
Were will he hide?
The world outside is so cold.
He can’t seem to find a meaning
To what, he shall not know.
For this he shall go on,
Forever living a lie.
With nothing to call his own,
Never wanting to go home.
There’s nothing left for him
Nothing for him to grab hold,
To survive, he must be bold,
At least that’s what he is told.

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The Flame Of Hope

Why is it that everything good,
Slowly fades away?
Once you experience something enlightening,
Each experience after, takes away more life,
More strength, and air.
Eventually the candle burns out.
Is there ever a way to relight the passion?
Is there a way to get back what you both felt?
Even if there is, is the wick too short to catch another spark?
Maybe you can only keep on trying,
Creating a new spark each time you want the feeling
Only knowing that you will be disappointed in the end.
So why do i try to continue what won’t come to be?
If i know all this, why do i waste my time?
But is time really wasted when the light goes out?
If some of the passion to go on survives,
Even if it’s hidden on both sides.
I guess each one must have hope.
But life will go on with or without unity,
Should the flame be put out forever,
Or hidden internally?

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Those weren’t too painful to read, right? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this early work. I know many of you have enjoyed what I’ve written in more recent years. Now you’re seeing the original poet. At least a little bit of him.

I was thinking, depending on the reception of these poems, I may think about putting together a “selected poems of 200X-200X” collection and sell it for a reasonable price. I’d go through and put a more “me” touch on the poems; I’d capitalize I, add stanzas (my enemy back then), and fix punctuation (another enemy). So it’d be a lot of the old, but mixed with the “educated” poet you’ve all come to love.

How’s that sound? Let me know your thoughts. You are my target audience after all.
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For those who wish to be part of Story Time Friday in the near future, you can send submissions to the email address that I formerly used for review requests (but don’t anymore since I’m retired . . . don’t try to be clever and slip on in 😛 ): Be sure to use the subject “Story Time Friday Submission” and send your piece as an attachment (.doc/.docx would be best). Any other questions, feel free to comment here or contact me through the blog’s contact form.

Hope to hear from some writers soon!

5 responses to “Story Time Friday – Where It All Began, poetry

  1. I think these are great. I really enjoyed …So where do we go from here? I think a collection of work with your older poems would be a great volume of work to have. I’ve never been one who reads much poetry, but you are definitely changing that. Thanks so much for sharing these with us!

    • Thanks Charles. I’ve been sitting on the idea for years, not thinking anything was strong enough. Glad to get some good feedback on the earliest ones. If you want to dive into more from back then you can find most here:

      When I put a collection together they’d be altered, tweaked here and there with my more experienced poet brain, so while they’re all free and out there already, I hope it’ll be a fresh read still for those who check it out 🙂

  2. What a great idea: embracing the old. I bet despite the age of these poems, you find a line or more that is pure brilliance, a gem that makes you think, “I was *that* good back then? Wow!” If this is where you find your current passion, go for it.

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