My “I Am” Poem

I’ve been reading Whylah Falls by George Elliot Clarke, a collection of poetry that reads like a novel. It’s been a challenge to read since I like to speed read, and poetry must be appreciated like a cup of good coffee. I keep rereading lines, pages, poems, just to enjoy the language.

Thanks to one of Mama Kat’s blog prompts (try her site; it’s awesome!), I thought I’d try the “I Am” Poem. I’m definitely using this for teaching someday; it’s a great way to try poetry without being a professional poet. Try it here.

I Am

I am young but old
I wonder why time must move so swiftly, like a cheetah on Ritalin
I hear life roaring like a vacuum on even the quietest nights
I see clouds racing like they have somewhere to go (do they?)
I want water licking at the sides of a pool shaded by maples, by oaks, by comfort
I am young but old

I pretend I am brave until my eyes, my face, my voice betray me
I feel wind; it makes me close my eyes, pausing for a moment
I touch life and wait for it to touch me back
I worry about what others think of me when it’s only me who matters
I cry for those who are helpless and unvoiced
I am young but old

I understand life cannot be perfect, though I wish it were
I say life is too serious to be taken seriously
I dream of the past, mixing with the present like a surrealist painting, a Kahlo
I try to appreciate each moment instead of wishing for the moments to come
I hope I die old, content, and in my sleep during an impressionist dream
I am young but old

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