Frankie's poems / prose / personal proverbs

. . .


ICY FINGERS


Isn't it odd the way I am?--
Showing hate when I want to give love,
Showing laughter when I want to shed tears?

But when icy fingers of threat
Touch my ledge of security,
Leaving me cold and frightened and sad,
I see myself as
I have been before;
And the sting pierces deeper and
More cruel than ever before.

Then these fingers that were
Conceived in lairs of fear
Melt.
And so they depart.
For they never really existed,

Yet they leave me
Plagued in shadows,
Showing wintery bleakness
While summer's desire eats at my heart.


Frankie Jasmine
Age 15

. . .

GREETINGS
FROM
A
LOST
LOVE

A dozen roses at my door

from Him

With just a card to say,

"Hello, my love,



Hello my death

Farewell Life's sweet

bouquet

Frankie Jasmine
Age 15

_ _ _ _ _

The Title is supposed to be centered
symmetrically above the poem.

. . .

AN
INDICTMENT
ON
MAN

"From the Earth which God made

I take this clay.

With it I can

create a world, a universe,

For God's supply is inexhaustable.
What shall I make?

A rock?
A seed?
A man?

"A man
Not a seed or rock.
I shall make a man."
For many days and many nights

I slaved and toiled

And this aged soil

began to look
like a man.

Its form was a thing of beauty
And the line was breath-taking.
And his face expressed life
And his body--movement.
So in triumphant splendor I

gazed upon my masterpiece.

"A man?
A man?
This is not a man!
Here it stands suspended in time.
His eyes and mouth and chin convey emotion.
His body is tense with rippling motion . . . "

But he was without pulse or breath or speech.
He could not talk or see or reach.
He could not change.
He was doomed forever
To be the same.

I looked out the window and

there I saw not one man
but thousands of men

Who were alive and real.
Not at all like the one I had made,
So lifeless and still he stood.

"One cannot create a being directly;
One must begin at the beginning

with a seed that may grow
and grow into life.

How simple a seed!
So small and meek."
One week it was, and all

was ready--

The seed was perfect to touch

and to see.

So the seed was planted and

awaiting its growth
I grew old;

For it never changed from the time

it was placed within the Earth's womb.

But how I had changed . . .

and how old I had grown!

Til at last I was placed

in a dark earthen tomb.

And there I lay, a man

God had made,

With flowers from God's seeds

alive in the shade;

And a stone man had made

above my grave.

Frankie Jasmine
Age 15

. . .


BLACKENED HEARTH


Here I stand: alone and idle

by the hearth.

And I wonder

"do you understand?"

I wonder

"how could you?"

But I know you must.

I watch the flames as they

are given birth;

They flicker and die and

rise again.

Unsure, they seem, to show

themselves

But glad they are for Life.

The bellows heave,

the wood piles high;
the flames seem never dying--

And climbing, climbing,

higher, higher,

They encompass me with

seas of warmth,

They dash at me

unerring light.

They give me strength . . .

So I sit, sighing . . .

And I am happy,
. . . I am happy.

Glowing coals and jeweled

cinders
now before me.

Beckoning me to come,

to come.

But I am weak and worn

and weary.

The fire is dead
And I am dying.

So it is with love.



Frankie Jasmine
Age 15

. . .



PAINFUL PRETENSE


If I could walk alone

and say that I am

you,

And if you could walk alone

and say that you are

me,

Should we meet and

I see myself as you see

me,

And you see youself as I see

you,

Then truly you would know

my love for you, but

What hurt would come to

me?

Frankie Jasmine
Age 16

I've been so busy today (actually two of us have) that my back is aching again. But I was just finding a few minutes to unwind so I can grab some sleep, and what better way to do that than a dose of Frankie's poetry section? Well I had one of my own to post too, but a "challenge" was unintentionally tossed my way and it's no accident at all that you're working on 2,000 views. Get the point?

I hope you've got some of these suitably framed Frankie, and hanging in a prominent place in your living room. If you don't, I will!

Originally Posted by MoonRide*r*

I've been so busy today (actually two of us have) that my back is aching again. But I was just finding a few minutes to unwind so I can grab some sleep, and what better way to do that than a dose of Frankie's poetry section? Well I had one of my own to post too, but a "challenge" was unintentionally tossed my way and it's no accident at all that you're working on 2,000 views. Get the point?

I hope you've got some of these suitably framed Frankie, and hanging in a prominent place in your living room. If you don't, I will!

Thank you, dear Moon. How very flattering that you used your rest time to read my poems when your aching back was telling you to go to sleep and forget the pain!

There's not poem-one posted anywhere in our home. I could do so, I suppose. But DH is not into my poems, singing, or "talents" (if they can be called that). He's a very good man, loving husband, and I like to call him the Family Patriarch because he is so strong for each one of us; he also makes all of us laugh! But things like poetry and my lyrics do not impress him. Perhaps if I became a runner and ran a 1/2 marathon--THAT would impress him! I haven't the interest, though. He gives me more attention for walking each day than he does for any poem!! :S

I just noticed yesterday the number of views on this thread. I built this thread before I even knew those numbers existed (D.D. brought the statistics to my attention afterward). So this thread is really rather misleading as far as numbers, isn't it? I mean, most of my poems, prose, and personal proverbs are on one thread . . . so that cannot be compared to those who post a single poem or song. ... But thanks for the kind vote of confidence anyway!

To anyone else reading this, if you added up all the "Likes" and all the views of ALL your poems or songs, your numbers would be quite high too!!!

. . .

SUN DREAMS

I walked in the rain
And dreamed of golden days

in the sun.

In the rain I found contentment--
The one contentment I knew.
But since then,
I realized that walking

alone
Was not for me,
So what could I do?

Find a Prince of the Sun?
But he's not the one for me.

I talked of nonsense
And dreamed of golden days

in the sun.

As I spoke, the words were destroyed
By reality, for they meant nothing;
Now I know
Why they disappeared

from
my world of
china and Kings.

"But where have they fled?"
The answer was dead for me.

I touched nature
And dreamed of golden days

in the sun.

As I felt the earth breathe
And the trees grow
And the brook cry,
I cried too; because this was the

One place I knew
was REAL, but
everyone passed it by.

Why did they leave me alone?
Because it was

somewhere
the sun
hadn't shone.

So, I walked in the rain,

and talked nonsense,
and touched nature
Alone.

. . . .


To not be alone, I knew,
Was to have someone who felt
That nature was

REAL with me;

Who talked of nonsense,
Yet made my dreams

In the sun
come true;

Not a golden Prince of the Sun,
But just one like you,

who would walk
in the rain
with me . . .

Frankie Jasmine
Age 16

. . .


LAST NIGHT


Last night I touched you.
Can the sun touch the earth?
I think so; without really touching
She gives it
Life and warmth.

Last night I caressed you.
The air caresses you every day
from without; then with each breath
You caress back
Without really knowing.

Did you caress me
Last night . . .
Did you touch me . . .


Frankie Jasmine
Age 16

Miss J,I love,love,love this!I usually don't Comment on poems that don't rhyme(personal preference)but this is an exception!An exceptionally great poem!Only thing I can complain about;it's difficult to read!I get the golden print(my favorite color)but it's like looking into the Sun!Otherwise,I love this;shone and alone for rhymes,OUTSTANDING!!!!P.S.Thank You for changing the color!Now I will come back,again and again,to reread this!Thanks again!

. . .


BODIES IN TIME


The sands of time have filled my heart,
Pebbles dropped into a pool,
My heart is overflowing.

The waters touch me deeply,
Every reach of my body
And mind.

I am cleansed and radiant.
If only you could touch
What your innocence has conceived.

Your whisper can still this raging current which taunts me;
Your visage, as moon against moon,
Change its rhythmic tide.

If only to touch briefly
Would the waters ebb in humility,
Or engulf you in its longing?
And would you run, would you struggle . . .
And the sands become vestiges of love?


Frankie Jasmine
Age 17

Originally Posted by Doug Denslowe

Miss J,I love,love,love this!I usually don't Comment on poems that don't rhyme(personal preference)but this is an exception!An exceptionally great poem!Only thing I can complain about;it's difficult to read!I get the golden print(my favorite color)but it's like looking into the Sun!Otherwise,I love this;shone and alone for rhymes,OUTSTANDING!!!!P.S.Thank You for changing the color!Now I will come back,again and again,to reread this!Thanks again!

Thank you very much for that praise! I assume you mean "SUN DREAMS." (Your post came up after "LAST NIGHT.")

. . .


LEOPARD


A Leopard in the asphalt jungle,
She seeks her spots.
"Where are they?" she cries.
Tears that stream down, wet her silky coat
And make the dirt stick.
"Are these my spots?!"

Oh, no, Leopard, those are what others
Like yourself are trying to make you think.
What you see is but filth;
And you know they are not
Your spots.
See the truth
In the mirrored water,
Reflecting all that is real.
Dive in.
And wash it all away.
Wash the filth away.

Oh, frightened Leopard,
Do not pounce on those who
Are different from you.
Have they taken your meals
And killed your cub??
Then walk past them
In all your grandeur,
And head up high,
Frighten them.
But do not hurt them.

They have hurt you;
So if you strut with pride
In front of their path and
Do not harm them,
Then God's wrath
Will torture them.

But if you leap to kill
Or seek revenge,
Then the liquid fire now
Palming your brain
Will keep you from finding
What it is you are seeking.
Not revenge,
But your spots, Leopard.
Remember your spots.

Walk past these aggressors,
And they will be subdued.
Harm them
And you will be no better,
but worse, than they.
And you will not find
Your spots.

If they harm you once again,
Show that you are better
Than they--
The snakes who creep
Through the bushes--
By showing your teeth and claws.

But do not strike them dead,
I beg of you.
Not all will want to harm you.
They, like you, are frightened;
Two species
Shaking in their own shadows.
Help one another through
The dark,
And please, Leopard,
If the snakes strike at you,
Stay proud.

You must not strike first.
And when they strike first,
Slap them
With your mighty paw
But not to kill.
If you strike to kill--
Even if you do not succeed--
There are others like you
Who want to find their spots,
And you may keep them,
As well as yourself,
From finding them.



Frankie Jasmine
Age 17

_ _ _ _ _

LEOPARD was the hardest of all these older writings to transcribe. I am more exhausted from transcribing than I usually am from composing. LEOPARD was in a block format prose, with no separations by paragraph, much less by stanza or lines. Now that it is in poetic form, I will call it a poem; the correct elements (in OWO) of a poem existed. However, it was a very hard job.

For the most part, this is the 17-year-old "wise" me reasoning with the 17-year-old "young" me. Self-talk. I hope you enjoy and can relate.

Thank you.

. . .

DISCOVERY

two hands _ _ a heart _ _ to bind

me with you.
a tender touch
to render my soul
to you.
a kiss _ _ a sigh
and I think . . .

a cool cheek _ _ a burning hand

to show;
my body wakes,
tears gleam
to show . . .
the air _ _ the night
and I think . . .

a lonely life and a lonely life

that find
that tosseled hair,
a solemn glance
can find
one life _ _ one love
and I think . . .

I'm not alone.

Frankie Jasmine
Age 17

If anyone is offended by this poem or feels it is inappropriate, I will gladly remove it . . .

THE RED

WEDDING BLANKET

Part I

Walk with me
And step across the stone of time
into a land of see;
Into a land of flesh
to touch with curious hands
that which is longing;
On a blanket of red
two bodies in the shade lie
fused,
with plush, green grass a cushion beneath us
And the trees stand guard
against time.

. . . . .

THE RED

WEDDING BLANKET

Part II

The sunlight dances through the early
autumn trees
reminding us of time.
It is not so easy when the sun
peeks through at last
to forget time.
It is fall and we must go.
But we remain;
And I, a clean, white sheet upon you,
drape your body,
sleeping.




Young Mrs. Frankie Jasmine
18 years old


___________________________________


THUS ENDS: TREASURES OF THE LOST ARK OF FRANKIE'S TEENAGE POETRY.
POST LOG: Thus, early began the adult life of Frankie Jasmine--Working, Wed, Becoming a Woman, Wee Little Ones, and a Whole New World . . .

First off,I really like this poem.Almost love it!But........why,oh,why would someone wish for you to remove it?Did I miss something?Now,I feel stupid,because I see NO REASON why it should,in anyone's mind,be offensive!Remember I posed the question,when did the confident,No PC Frankie turned into the "doubting Frankie"?!?Like before,not an insult,just a honest question.Most folks get more confident with age,they're wiser,and have more experiences to back up their opinions.You know how much I respect you,now tell me,"Why would this be removed!?!"If someone wanted it removed,I'd expect you to fight/argue for it to stay!If you won't,I will!How's about Dat?P.S.If someone requested me to remove "Jeanette"I'd politely reply,"No"!!p.S.S.I Love Discovery!

wow your have been a poetic marvel since a young age. Its beautiful to read though your teen aged days and see no only your writing develop but your self as person, for example in icy fingers your struggle to control your emotions and insecurities (that's how i understood it) to feelings of being left out or different and then knowing love.
genius mind

Originally Posted by Doug Denslowe

First off,I really like this poem.Almost love it!But........why,oh,why would someone wish for you to remove it?Did I miss something?Now,I feel stupid,because I see NO REASON why it should,in anyone's mind,be offensive!Remember I posed the question,when did the confident,No PC Frankie turned into the "doubting Frankie"?!?Like before,not an insult,just a honest question.Most folks get more confident with age,they're wiser,and have more experiences to back up their opinions.You know how much I respect you,now tell me,"Why would this be removed!?!"If someone wanted it removed,I'd expect you to fight/argue for it to stay!If you won't,I will!How's about Dat?P.S.If someone requested me to remove "Jeanette"I'd politely reply,"No"!!p.S.S.I Love Discovery!

Honest answers to honest questions:

Doug, I love this poem too. My confidence in it is 100%. It is about love and a new life. I stand behind it.
However, not everyone is from our culture. And some people have "sensibilities" because of religious or cultural upbringings.
I wanted to show respect for their feelings. Gladly would I remove it on their behalf because it is about sex (even if married sex).

My feelings about the poem would still remain this: I do think it is "art" (OWO) and has withstood the test of time, another discussion about which I wrote you--that is, how to know if something is really art? If you love/like it more today than you did yesterday.

No 'Doubting Frankie' exists about "The Red Wedding Blanket." Just a concern for others' sensibilities. We are all different people, different cultures. Out of love and respect for anyone--here in the U.S. or far across the oceans living very strict cultural/religious lives--I would happily remove it. The poem will always be mine. Removing it from a post is a minor thing compared to offending someone's conscience. This is a demonstration of strength and confidence; not a "folding under pressure." It is understanding of others who are different from me and being respectful to them. It is a part of the woman I have become. It would not diminish me or my poem in any way. The reason is particularly because it is about sexual matters. . . . A different poem I might reason with someone about and leave it posted, because the differences between myself and someone else might be merely a matter of taste or liking/disliking something. That's quite different.

I hope this helps you to understand me. There is a final age 18 poem; but I will not post it for the very reason that it is more specific regarding sexual things. I like that poem too. But it is more private and a bit more specific, though tastefully done. I would not post it because of young children and adolescents who peruse this site (and also because of those of religions who might be offended). Besides, it is rather private, and to post it would offend my own sensibilities!

Originally Posted by trueperfectionisimperfect

wow your have been a poetic marvel since a young age. Its beautiful to read though your teen aged days and see no only your writing develop but your self as person, for example in icy fingers your struggle to control your emotions and insecurities (that's how i understood it) to feelings of being left out or different and then knowing love.
genius mind

Dear TPiI: Thank you so much for all you've said and related. You are right on the first point about "ICY FINGERS":

your struggle to control your emotions and insecurities (that's how i understood it)...

I might even say you are right on the second part about being different and learning love and forgiveness. That much is accurate. And, with art, each person takes away their own meaning as it strikes their heart. I am glad you could identify with it; that always makes me feel good. In my case, the source of the fright and pain was my home life; the struggle was self-talk, so I could forgive. Same applies to "LEOPARD."

_ _ _ _

Dear Doug, TPiI, and Moon: Receiving your comments about my teen poetry means more than you know. It was quite a labor of love to get them all in order and post them here. For your expressing which poems you like and why, I thank you very much. And TPiI, for seeing the overall "picture" of my teen years and acknowledging them, thank you. These poems were for me. No one else read them; although I think perhaps three were published in a book at my High School. (Blackened Hearth; Letter from a Lost Love, and Painful Pretense.) Otherwise no one knew or understood--or wanted to know or understand. Such is the pain of many teens today, I'm sad to say.

Your more then welcome and also thank you for sharing an insite on your teen years