A Bit of My Life Gone By

Not mine, but yeah, you get the idea!

My lovely, wonderful daughter, newly-married and newly-Ph.D, came over last Wednesday to help me continue cleaning out the garage where my things, among others, have come to rest peacefully since I moved in many years ago.  Initially, I went out after a couple of years to find that I had left boxes of photos in that damp, hot / cold environment.  I lost quite a few, but did salvage a large number.

Since that time, my stroke happened and I have neglected forgotten neglectly-forgotten (my word) to further the process.  Most of it will be trashed, but I know there are still a few boxes worth holding onto.

Back to the near past – we cleaned for awhile, then did some other needed chores in the house.  I work slowly now (more slowly) and have to stop a lot for breaks.  However, I did find a couple of boxes of items and we managed to get a couple to throw away, too.

One of the things we found was a folder containing some of my older poetry that I have not shared before (see post).  I thought that I would share some of it with all of you in my extended family.

I ask that you remember a few things:

1)  I am not editing any of it – it is the way it was.

2)  Just because I am printing it does not mean I still feel that way (you will understand).

3)  I do believe I write much better now. (I know, my opinion)

So, here we go:

1) May 1st, 1985 I entered a contest at College for poetry on Campus.  I received an “honorable mention”.  I think the idea of it got to them more than the poetry.



By Scott L Vannatter 4/8/85


I fear the loss of my own life

The pain that it might bring.

But to fear the dark for the dark itself,

Is that so strange a thing?


And closed-in places, the ones with walls,

Should fear not linger there?

The loss of air, the skin tight squeeze,

Why should it not raise the hair?


Afraid of dogs, of planes, of heights,

The panic starts to steam.

My heart beats faster, the sweat to pour,

And my mind begins to scream.


Afraid of marriage, of love, of sex,

Surely many feel this way.

But to fear a bird who is high above,

There I hesitate to say.


Through my life I strived so hard

To try to comprehend

The reasons for these fears of mine,

And seek a timely end.


And then at last I beat my fears,

Now l live a life of joys.

Yes, nevermore to be afraid,

Oh God!  What was that noise?




By Scott L Vannatter 9-20-91

None know the questions burning deep within.


The ripping soul-tearing nerve stabs that ask of life, answers.


Often asking and receiving not, giving and having not, crying and

Heard not.  The scream primal breaks free, ache and wretch of soul.


.                                                             Loneliness silences the questions.

Heart pumps crimson, stirs the inquisition of psyche and probes

Deep to core of that eternal emotion, fickle and painful though it is.


Asking repetition of clarity and need of hope for chance, the lover

Strains afraid to ask, to ask not.


None know the questions burning deep within.


Please let me know what you think.  I have about a dozen more, some darker.  I would love to share them all with you, but only if I know you would like me to.



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  • Becki Duckworth  On May 26, 2013 at 11:58 am

    Scott, Congrats to your daughter and earning her PhD. Your poems are beautiful please share more when you are ready.


  • Larry  On May 26, 2013 at 11:30 am

    What a treat for us – your earlier work! Who is judging whether it is “good” or “bad”? Not I. I enjoyed reading it and would feel privileged to read more if you are willing to share.


  • Aspergers Girls  On May 26, 2013 at 11:15 am

    they seem raw and honest….freshly dug up without much thought of what others will think or how they will respond…. I think that adds a lot… and I think they are both well done and were a pleasure to read. 🙂 thank you


  • thehappyhugger  On May 26, 2013 at 9:55 am

    I think your poems are and were very good, Scott.


  • bert0001  On May 26, 2013 at 6:00 am

    I think they are both great reads, and they bring some perspective to you and where you came from …


  • Indira  On May 26, 2013 at 1:25 am

    Both are equally nice. You write so well. I always fear of loneliness, what if I’m left alone?


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