As far as I know, this is my oldest poem in English. It's from all the way back when I was fourteen. As you may be able to tell from the ordering, I was heavily into experimenting with form and typography, as is even more apparent from my Dutch poetry at the time, which according to my teachers shared resemblance to that of the famous Flemish expressionist poet Paul van Ostaijen, who I had never even heard of at the time. Without further ado...
The Gift’s Curse
burning
scorching
on the inside
the inside of me
crawling up,
up,
back down again
filling with fire and flame
searching, striving
for a way out
out of the cage of my body
the gate of my lips
my hands
it stirs in my mind
flows out of my pen
out, out!
somewhere, somehow
it shall not be stopped
for it does not obey,
does not hold back
… never gives up
no rest,
no sleep,
no more sanity
the Muse’s fire and flame
their painful caress
pushing, forcing…
to their will
I must comply
no choice,
no power,
it is a part of me,
O rebellious flames
Tortured,
giving, taking
offered to a price
the fire in me,
controlling
steering me.
I am the fire!
Ok, for some reason, I can't get it to go right. It looks okay in edit, but once posted, the poem just starts jumping all over the place. Any tips?
ReplyDelete