Teenage Poetry

All Poems, Argentine Family, Family, Memories, Teenage Poetry

Before the Internet

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Before the internet, I sent postcards.

From all around the world.

To people I cared about.

Wanted to stay connected with.

People I missed.

Wanted to share my journey with.

So, when I receive a postcard, I honor it.

Knowing it takes effort, desire to write.

It’s a wish by the writer to touch base.

To send a written message rather than digital.

Yesterday, I received Uri’s.

Saying he thought of Bob and me.

While at an Arab cinema museum.

In Doha, Qatar.

My mind lit up.

Thinking of all the films we watched together.

Both in theaters and on screens at home.

By a crackling fire.

Roger Ebert’s book, reviewing great movies.

Which Uri gave us as a gift.

I suppose they were same moments he thought of.

When he penned the card.

A mysterious psychic bonding

wrought from lines on postcard stock.

A word or two like seeds to birds,

luring memories in a flock.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 18, 2023

Adolescence, All Poems, Love, Teenage Poetry

Your Eyes are Two Lucid Pools

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Your eyes are two lucid pools.
Shimmering twin ponds embraced by Diana.
As I drink in this radiance,
I am a slave of Dionysus,
drunk with the pleasure of
beholding two lambent flames—
flames that bring a wine-colored flush to my cheeks,
make my body burn.

Your eyes are two clear lakes—
lakes in which I long to bathe.
As I swim in this splendor,
kissed by the sweetness of Apollo,
I am overwhelmed with the brilliancy
of two glowing crystals
setting my heart on fire.

Lynn Katz

ages 15-16

Adolescence, All Poems, Love, Teenage Poetry

Your First Kiss

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The party is over.
The excitement is done.
Bright diamonds peek through
a blanket of velvet.

The moon is soft cheese.
The air is fragrant.
Trees dance in rhythm
with the thump of your heart.

Your eyes are misty,
And you feel warm.
Your head gently tilted
toward the face of another.

Your throat is dry,
But your lips meet the warmth
of another person,
with your parting kiss.

Lynn Katz

around ages 15-16

 

Adolescence, All Poems, Love, Teenage Poetry

Your Russet Eyes

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Your russet eyes
pierce my being,
and for a minute,
one glorious moment,
I am your being
and you are mine.

Your kisses melt
on my neck
and sanctify my body.
Your heart beats slowly
and I feel you tremble.
I press closer.

We are one.
Our hearts,
our mouths,
our eyes.

One fleeting moment,
a second of rapture
in eternity.

Lynn Katz

ages 15-16

Aging, All Poems, Death, Health/Illness, Teenage Poetry, Time

Time Marches On

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He lay on his bed
like an old withered leaf.
Around him is Pain,
Sorrow, and Grief.

His mind is recounting
his glorious days,
while the world about him
no attention pays.

Joy goes on singing,
Jealousy must cry,
lovers still whisper,
birds still fly.

Heroes still live,
and cowards still hide.
Days have been born
and days have died.

This man slowly passed,
his existence a second,
came when summoned
and left when beckoned.

Lynn Katz

May 1, 1964 (14, almost 15, years old)

Adolescence, All Poems, Love, Teenage Poetry

The Stars and the Moon

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The stars and the moon
see, smile, understand.
The bright sky jewels
whisper, nod, wink.
They twinkle and shed light
upon your face.

Darkness adds a protective blanket.
Draws us closer together.
We share a feeling that
binds our hearts.

When I’m in your arms,
a pervading spirit seizes my body.
Thrills, tingles, flutters
scurry through me like sharp gusty winds.
As my heart palpitates with excitement,
the blood gushes throughout my being.
You awaken within me a
warmth that surges through my veins.

The moon, the stars, and the darkness
know our secret.

The world is on fire
burning with our love.
Each butterfly and flower
is a part of our love.
Each cricket and ladybug
shares our love.

As dawn breaks,
the sun sends her magic
rays upon us to make
our love grow.
We drink ambrosial dewdrops
to give these moments immortality.

Every living creature
knows that we are aglow
with a special kind of warmth.

Lynn Katz

ages 15-16

 

Adolescence, All Poems, Pain, Teenage Poetry

The World Looks At Me

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The world looks at me
with mocking eyes
ostracizing
criticizing
stabbing
wounding.

The world twists
and drains my heart
hurting
wringing
killing.

The world laughs
a ringing laughter
piercing
shrieking
shattering.

Lynn Benjamin

ages 15-16

Adolescence, All Poems, Teenage Poetry

Reflections From My Desk

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Reflections From My Desk

I know a young fella
as cute as can be.
Wherever I walk,
he watches for me.

And, I, like a magnet
in turn do the same.
Whenever I see him,
I call him by name.

He’s not still a child.
He’s not quite a man.
He adores his brother
and follows the clan.

I sit lame.
I watch with disgust.
He goes with his brother
and I could bust.

But now that I think
I know it can’t be
a great romance
of ’63.

So I’m giving him up
with a rate as zero,
and I’m beginning a hunt
for a football hero!

Lynn Katz (14 years)
1963 (likely the fall)

Based on my upset at moving from Mt. Airy, Philadelphia to Dresher.
My “boyfriend” (Kenny) did not pursue me after the move.
He was closer to his older brother.

Adolescence, Aging, All Poems, Death, Pain, Teenage Poetry

Sorrow

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My life is a dream,
I don’t really exist.
I lurk in the shadows.
I stand in the mist.

My life is a memory
upon a great stone.
I have no more flesh,
decayed is my bone.

The earth is so damp,
I heave a great sigh.
I so want to weep,
but my tears are all dry.

Deep is the pain,
and great is the sorrow,
that never again
shall I wake on the morrow.

Lynn Benjamin

May 1, 1964 (14 years, almost 15)

Adolescence, All Poems, Teenage Poetry

I Entered the Room

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I entered the room
of sweat and moving bodies
and expressionless faces.
I was surrounded by
the heat, yet coldness
of the place.

The beer,
the whiskey, wine
that flowed so freely
were just beginning
to contort the blank
and lifeless faces.

But, softly, quietly
the air around
crept into my soul.
I looked
up and I looked down.
I saw not anything
but moving colors
and darkness
darkness, darkness.

Oh, my love.
I tried to touch you
tried, tried.
You heard not anything
but drunken echoes
and high pitched laughs
that came from deadened faces.
I stopped.
I stopped on noiseless toes
and peered into a room
of faces.
Of faces bored and dead.
Of faces looking
everywhere but face to face.

I smelled the cigarettes
from anxious hands.
Hands that touched,
that felt girls’ breasts
without feeling anything,
anything at all.

I listened.
I heard the music
begin to swell and beat
and come alive.
I saw dead bodies
start to dance
to fast beat
rhythm swing
and throw their hips
and exhale smoke.

And all the while
bodies hot with fire and sweat,
but faces bored and dead.

Faces that looked not at you
and not at me
and not face to face.
Faces that are lies and
lied to you and
lied to me.

O, my love, do you prefer
a room of high pitched
laughs and lies to eyes
that tell you only truth?

Lynn Katz
class of 1970
likely written fall, 1966
at the first fraternity party I went to at Phi Epsilon Pi