1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/Prelude

                                       Prelude


He smiles at me,
And if he knows my name,
I cannot tell.
But no matter.
It would not be the same
If he knew me well.
I look at him with covered eyes,
For he would be blinded
If I opened theses burning stars
That I possess when he is near,
I may never speak to him again,
But I can hope,
For
He smiles at me.

Susan J. Skinner

copyright 2011/all rights reserved

1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/untitled poem

Susan finished school a year early in order to "hurry up."  This poem reflects the struggle she had to make that decision, but I think it reflects the feeling most of us have about highschool.  I know these poems don't need my commentary, but sometimes I just can't help myself. 



The halls are empty now
Except for me.
It is seven-thirty and twilight
Gently covers the dusty beams
With warm darkness.
Except for me,
There is no one here,
I think.
The echoeing footsteps must be mine.
The bannister returns my grasp,
Offering solace.
I cry.
A school is such a lonely place at night,
So full of dreams, remembrance,
So loud the solitude!
It insistently grasps my shoulder,
Begs me to turn around.
I will not.
I cannot leave my spirit with this melancholy assembly.
I cannot.
Tell myself-All do;
No one leaves the school completely.
We leave them here, our bittersweet alter-egos.
I step out the door.
And I do not.
I remain there forever.


Susan J. Skinner

copyright 2011/all rights reserved

1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/untitled poem

Seldom saying
Things that mean
What she believes
Leave her there
She doesn't know
Just what she wants
She will tell them nothing
They should see
But will not
Things in front of them
Are more difficult to see
Than those on extended planes
So what
She lives, dies
No marks are indelible
They will forget
She will not.


Susan J. Skinner

copyright 2011/ all rights reserved

1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/untitled poem

You can not read my mind
Thank the gods that is so.
Yet oftentimes I think love would be simpler
If my mind, picturing each tableau,

Were open like a book or set
Upon a stage with words of purest verse,
Who can say, if such love
Might be best--or worse?

For you would know each thought,
Each discrepancy, and every flaw
In my unreasoning, guileless mind
And cease to hold our love in awe.

Love, a perfect love, is wrought
When two can love, yet still
Be of two minds, two souls, two tongues
And yet be of one will.

Susan J. Skinner
June 9, 1962

copyright 2011/ all rights reserved

1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/UNTITLED POEM

Myriad lyrics trip through my mind
On the light little feet of their tunes
And the voices I hear as I sit here tonight
Come from far away planets and moons

I know that life here on earth will go on
As long as there's hope still around
But my life alone may cease to exist
For reasons that seem so profound.


Susan J. Skinner

copyright 2011/all rights reserved

1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/UNTITLED POEM

"Who are you?"
Don't ask me that.
I will not know for years and years.
I am a nymph who's colored blue,
A witch without a pointed hat.
A baby who can smile through tears.

"Where are you going?"
Should I know?
I shall go in many ways.
Stitches in ten-league boots I'm sewing.
I travel where the winds blow.
Perhaps a trip through Alice's maze.

"Are you telling the truth?"
Of course not!  I know I'm
A poached egg with sugar on me.

Susan J. Skinner

copyright 2011/all rights reserved

*Note: I believe the last line was based on an old joke from the 1950s, but I am unable to find the reference online. 

1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE/UNTITLED POEM

To be myself
I sacrifice
Something
of the pleasure
That conformity carries--
Identification.
I do not know
what I am, though
I know what I am not
And that is better,
For I cannot see myself
For myself stands in my way.
The mirror to show me myself
Is hidden, waiting
Somewhere.
In this I place my hope.

Susan J. Skinner
June 12, 1963

copyright 2011/all rights reserved