A Blast From the Past

I've been writing since the fourth grade. Most of it is crap, with the rare exception. During high school, I dabbled in poetry, which resulted in an extremely embarrassing collection of terrible poems. I didn't really know what I was doing, and didn't bother with methods like iambic pentameter, rhyming couplets or haiku. As egotistical as it sounds, I honestly thought I was just naturally gifted, and proudly passed around my creations for my friends to read and admire.

During the latter part of high school, I was also a crazy huge Dave Matthews Band fan, thanks to my friend M, and the both of us harbored this crush on Dave that some might label (with good reason) just a tad bit obsessive. It was just a matter of time, then, that my love of writing bad poetry and my obsessive love of Dave Matthews would collide to form the emo pile of mush I call this poem (by the way, I typed this straight from my journal--no editing):

Catholic Prince (for Dave :-) ): A poem of prose and passion

Come to me, my Catholic Prince,

In the shadows of the night with the moon full and bright.

Creep silently up to my window and sing me a tune;

Sweep me off my feet with your sweet, lilting voice.

Come to my room, my Catholic Prince,

Take me into your arms and whisper softly into my ear

The things this girl has long wanted to hear.

Press me close to your chest, where your heartbeat I'll feel,

Trace your fingers along my cheek and down my neck,

Press your lips against mine and run your fingers through my hair.

Time has stopped; all I see is you, all I feel is you, all I want is you.

Let's make memories, writings on the wall,

Just for tonight, don't think, don't talk.

And when the morning comes, silently you'll go;

But when falls the dark, come you once more,

To take me back to that world where time stands still,

And all there is, is you.

--Sarah Van Blaricum

August 2, 2001

There are number of things wrong with this poem, not the least of which is the fact that I thought Dave was Catholic for some reason (turns out he was raised Quaker or something--my bad!) and that we were obviously on a first name basis with each other (in my head, which is sad). It also reads like something a crazy obsessed Twilight fan would write, provided there was a vampire who was Catholic and who could sing. I would also like to point out that, despite what you may think after reading this, I did have friends in high school, was a happy person and did not clothe myself in all black and do grave rubbings on Halloween or Edgar Allan Poe's birthday. And as embarrassing as this poem is, I'm publishing it on here because I think it's funny as hell, written during the days when I was charmingly pretentious (I like to think so anyway).

Don't fucking judge me. :-)