Poetry book

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

Billy Collins

Change of plans. I was originally going to do the Robert Frost or other Billy Collins poem, but after reading this one, I felt such a personal connection to it. In the poem the boy is mourning turning ten, because he feels that his childhood has ended, and he is turning an age that marks the beginning of another chapter in his life that he does not necessarily want to start yet. While the poem is sad, it is also charmingly humorous, because the boy is only turning ten but already he is nostalgic for his past. We often hear about forty or fifty year olds complaining about how old they are...but we rarely (or at least I rarely) hear is from a ten year old. He is a wise young boy.

For my book I want to keep it a simple book format. I am considering cutting the book into a specific shape but I have not decided yet. I want the illustrations to be black and white with an emphasis on lines to create movement. The black and white also adds to the more forlorn tone of the poem. I want there to be an occasional splash of color on each page that links it to the words of the poem. For instance, the bicycle that's leaning against the garage will be blue, but the blue is dripping off it and onto the driveway.