Sunday, November 18, 2007

Monday Poetry Train #26

Those Words "I Love You Honey"

Look, there he is over by the wall.
His hand upon her shoulder
As he guides her down the hall
He smiles as he talks to her
Laughs at what she says.
I cannot bear to watch them
As they wander on their way
I turn my head and walk away
Unable to understand
This new emotion gripping me
Could this be jealousy?
Oh, what's the matter with me!
I had the chance and turned it down
To be the one beside him now
Too late now I understand
The real meaning behind those words
When not too long ago
He slipped his arm around my waist
And said, "I love you honey."
Frightened I pushed him from me
And ran down the hall
Unheeding to his pleading call
"Hey don't run away."
He tried again not long after
But again I turned away
He tried twice, then once again
But still I pushed him from me
I needed time to think it out
Decide which way to turn
What could he mean by those strange words
"I love you honey."
Could he be telling the truth?
Now he has given up
Gone looking for another
To take my place I guess
'Cause I refused to answer.
Oh what I wouldn't give
To have another chance
To answer him the way he wants
And walk with him to class
Oh stop this wishful thinking
And get done with your work
You know that given half a chance
T'would be the same again
There they go around the corner
And with them go my hopes
Of hearing him once more say
Those words, "I love you honey."
-Joy Renee Coon 1972



I think this is what is called juvenilia. I was in eighth grade when I wrote it. Unless it was the following summer. But the events took place in the eighth grade. And are as embarrassing to remember now as they were excruciatingly humiliating and heart-crushing to live through.

Note: my first instincts were right. This guy's 'love' had a shelf life of approximately three weeks. Somehow that didn't make it any easier to watch him move on. The thing that took me nearly twenty more years to figure out was why, during those several weeks he pursued me, it was my dearest wish that he move on. Until he did.

Ummm. Susan Helene. This was my Trevor. Or at least Trevor in training. A Trevor without music or any other non-destructive means to get the recognition he craved. I heard he ended up where Trevor's older brother did. But that was from the high-school grapevine. Not the most reliable of sources.

I warned ya'll I was scraping the bottom here. Two tickets to the Poetry Train left in my files.

8 tell me a story:

Sparky Duck 11/19/2007 4:26 AM  

sometimes I get the feeling the honey part is not the best ending

Anonymous,  11/19/2007 6:22 AM  

I could never figure out the male mind!

Jill 11/19/2007 7:22 AM  

I think you just wrote how a lot of us felt when we were about that age!!
And I'm with Gautami!! They say that we are complex, but they are as much or maybe even more!!

Susan Helene Gottfried 11/19/2007 8:36 AM  

I must be able to spot 'em a mile away 'cause I'm reading this and thinking, "Huh. He loved you all right. Uh-huh. Cad."

I think my Trev's motivation is a bit different. He's got to prove he's not the waste of life that people tell him he is. It's not about attention in the usual, "Hey, look at me!" way. That's what sets him apart. (among other things)

But I'm really touched that you relate to Trevor; that's the highest form of flattery I can think of!

Julia Phillips Smith 11/19/2007 10:18 AM  

Joy Renee, thanks for all your comments to me recently (hug.) I've noticed that you've had your share of tough times, too - we'll both get through them, Joy Renee.

As for posting this teenage poem, I think you may not realize that the voice is very strong and works well. The emotions are not that age-limited - this could be about anybody at any time in their life.

Liked these lines especially:
'Now he has given up
Gone looking for another
To take my place I guess
'Cause I refused to answer'

T.A.Chase 11/19/2007 11:48 AM  

I think I know this guy, Joy.

doesn't matter when you wrote it, it still rings true. :)

Unknown 11/19/2007 12:35 PM  

I see why you wanted me to read your Monday Poetry train. LOL Yes, I agree, it still rings true even if you were 13 or 14 years old at the time of this poem.

Rhian 11/20/2007 8:20 AM  

this is GREAT and i love the art!
trevor in training - heh.

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