Words haunt me……
I mentioned on Twitter today that I’d discovered a box of containing bits & pieces of things I’d written many, many moons ago and that I’d share some of them with you all - for your amusement.
Some of the pieces of paper are faded, torn & very fragile, dating back to the 1970s. This really is a box of wonders for me and I’m thoroughly enjoying the memories and the giggles though I have been asking myself “What was I thinking?”
Anyway, before I bury myself back into my past here are just a few of the things I’ve discovered. Feel free to ask me what I was thinking. I probably won’t know but it’s worth a shot. Oh, and please be gentle with this young girls thoughts………
Emotional Baggage
A holdall. A rucksack. A suitcase. A trunk.
Packaged within packages
All neatly folded and colour coded
The blues and the blacks
The greys and the browns
Hidden in the depths
So far down and out of reach
Slowly festering in mental mothballs
Never taken out, never used again
But always there weighting down the bottom.
At this point I really should say that I don’t think I ever was much one for structure. Stanzas schmanzas. With that, here we have one of my first uses of the term Girl in a box.
Girl In A Box
Do you remember what I told you?
That you should put me in a box
Close down the lid and pack me away at the back of your mind.
I wonder if you did that.
Am I in there somewhere now.
Getting more and more dusty with each day that passes.
Did you even try?
Only to find that I won’t be packed away
That every time you pushed down on the lid
I just kept right on pushing back at you.
Did I stamp my feet, hold my ground
And tell you that I just won’t go.
Or did you dismiss what I said?
Choose to ignore it.
Knowing that deep down, at the heart of it all,
I never really wanted to be
A girl in a box.
A wrong turn
I don’t know why it happened.
One day I was gently gliding
Drifting along the safe, sure path of my life
And then you hit me
Like a tornado
Beating down my doors to get to the girl I’d kept locked away, hidden inside
Picking me up
Turning me around
Shaking her out
And somewhere along the way, when you were spinning me
I took a wrong turn
I should’ve put up higher defences
Held my breath until you’d passed me by
Then carried on down the safe, sure path of my life
But I didn’t and you hit me
Like a tidal wave
Crashing through my doors
Washing out the girl who’d been kept locked away, hidden inside
Picking me up
Turning me around
Flushing her out
And somewhere along the way, when you were spinning me
I took a wrong turn
You made me lose my direction
Put me down on a new, unfamiliar path.
And I don’t know if I can find my way back
I don’t know if I really want to.
This last one doesn’t have a title. Maybe I’ll get around to giving it one someday.
I know a girl who asks too much.
Searches out answers to questions which have no real purpose.
And I wondered if he knew that these were a diversion
From the one question she really wanted to ask
“Could you…..?”
“Would you….?”
“Will you……..?”
“…………tell me goodbye and please just let me go”
So, there you have it, a little delve into the mind of my younger self though I think I’ll save the 70s stuff for another day.
