Blast from the past!

So I was up late last night [surprise surprise] chatting with a friend to pass the time and we got onto the subject of my writing. I was telling him how everyone keeps encouraging me to write but it's so hard because I am just so critical of myself. 16 year old me was an amazing person - if I do say so myself - she had imagination and the guts to explore it and she wasn't scared to push aside the 'real world' to do that.

I feel as though I am competing with this girl and when I write now I find myself backspacing more than I type. It sounds extreme but I've had to resort to promising myself I wont backspace at all, belting out an entire post/story/whatever and then allowing myself 10 minutes for editing at the end. No more. If I was allowed to run free with my editing I'd never get a post up because there's always something that could be worded better, always something I could research and sound more plausible.

Anyway I've decided I'm going to share a few 'oldies' from around 2000 -- I was FOURTEEN [well.. fifteen later in the year but that's beside the point] then. I've decided teenage me was awesome but adult me has billions of years experience on her and is going to [once she has had a chance to get back on the horse again] knock teenage me's writing out of the park.

This was a poem I wrote for year 10 English. These days I would never have dreamed of attempting poetry, much less something this long, so I think I'm going to do one of the Poetry challenges for Project: Writers [Un]Block in the near future.. face that fear head on, you know?! Anyway, on with it.

Someday

He rode upon  the sky
And the dark plane he was in
Cast an earthly shadow
A shadow small and thin
But everyday he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

He launched the tiny Cesna
Into the grave of blue
And when the wind and clouds caved in
He promised to stay true

The little Cesna, Shirley
Was brave and strong and good --
When Shirley couldn't make it
Her humble master could
In unity they suffered
And conquered every foe
And flew from mornings blinding light
to midnights ebon glow
And everyday he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

When skies were dark and baleful
He kept his goals in sight
He yearned for fame -- to see his name
In marquee's of gold light
He whispered to young Shirley
"You're with me til' the end"
And Shirley promised to be strong
And save her lifelong friend
And everyday he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

With wings of silver eagles
And little fuel to spare
He soared upon the open skies
In hopes of getting there
But hurricane winds trembled
And a storm was soon full blown --
He clenched his fists and firmly vowed
To do it on his own

But the hurricane was ghastly
And it tore the battered sky
Like a cheetah lashing with razor teeth
Or a vulture on the fly
The rain and wind were wedded
And the marriage finallly steered
Shirley toward exactly what
Her master always feared

The hurricane had driven
The plane down through the atmosphere
Until its pilot realised
The bitter end was near
Still everynight he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

But as he whispered steadfast
He felt an inward ruth
That everynight, his words had grown
Father from the truth

And then that night, small Shirley
Felt her vigor disappear
And then she told her master
That he couldn't cry a tear --
For they would die together,
And never have to part
The Cesna felt her soul entwined
With her dear masters heart
And one last time he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

Shirley sailed downward
And plunged into the sea
But still her silent Cesna heart
Was whole, and close to he
Her master sank down with her
His lonely head above
The heart of her, his only plane
And too -- his only love

He still lies there this minute
Now petrified as stone
With no marquees, no lights of gold --
He was a man unknown
No nomument was built for him
No poems to laud his name
And no one ponders over his
Eternal, ceaseless game
But maybe a young child whispers
Every morning, somewhere near
Something strong and simple,
that she hopes someone will hear:
"Lord, let me remain until my death,
Undaunted by defeat.
This, my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet".

xx. A.