Medley of Emotions

Jakob Knudsen photo

 

Today’s featured poet is relatively new to the Lanthorn, so everyone please welcome Jakob Knudsen! Jakob is a sophomore at Houghton from Watertown, New York, and he’s studying Writing. Jakob says that his favorite poet is Robert Frost, who he’s come to appreciate more and more as he’s continued to read his works. However, his favorite poem is “Dover Beach” by Matthew Arnold.

Jakob says that for him, poetry is a place to express his feelings and emotions that he isn’t sure how to express otherwise. Due to his stoic disposition, he has trouble expressing his emotions directly. To Jakob, “poetry is my attempt to take off whatever mask I might wear from day-to-day and express who I am truthfully.”

We asked Jakob to say a little bit about the poem “A note to my sister,” which was featured in the most recent edition of the Lanthorn. When asked, he had this to say:

My poem “A note to my sister” is, as the title would suggest, dedicated to my sister, Ingrid Knudsen. She has been my best friend all my life, and when we were little we were near inseparable—in fact, we were often mistaken as twins. As we’ve grown older, though, our interests have grown apart, in their way, and for these last two years we’ve been physically apart as well, and this has been no small source of anxiety for me. This poem was the product of this medley of emotions.

Without further ado, here’s Jakob’s poem, “A note to my sister.”

“A note to my sister”

By: Jakob Knudsen

 

We used to listen to the same music, you and I.

Of course, then it was just our parents’ music,

a shared, inherited taste.

Now we listen to different tunes,

though the genres aren’t so different.

 

You stare at the wider world with wonder,

fingers itching for plane tickets,

looking for every route

that will take you out of this country

and to the source of your fascination.

 

Meanwhile, I stay in my room,

the once and always home slice,

letting words take me to places

my feet would sooner fail than reach.

Typing ferociously, pounding out my stories,

exploring the farthest reaches of my mind.

I’m afraid one day our paths will part for good.

 

No, no—don’t go,

if you’ll come in I’ll come out,

and just for this day we can make play

that we’re twelve again.

We’ll romp through the yard,

not too close and not too far,

and see the simple horizon as we did then,

like it was a different world, our world,

each time our boots hit the mud.

 

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