Editor’s note: Our Keene State College senior intern Jennika Mullen will share her original poems and some by friends twice a month at InDepthNH.org. Here, she introduces herself and the first poem in her new column, ‘Poetic Pens.’ Welcome Jennika.

By JENNIKA MULLEN

 As children, our lives are heavily influenced by our parents’ decisions. They help us discover who we are and find the things we love. My childhood is what made me fall in love with poetry.

 My dad used to read me a poem before bed every night. He had so many of them memorized and my favorites were The Sugar-Plum Tree by Eugene Field and The Tyger by William Blake.

Those poems were early comforts in my life that inspired a continuing passion for reading, writing, and analyzing poetry. In high school, my friend took me to a poetry slam near our home and I was hooked.

I loved hearing the emotion in the voices of authors as they read their work and I loved participating in sharing my writing with others. We attended the poetry slams every week that we could after that and my passion grew stronger.

 Now at 21, as an English Writing major at Keene State College, I have continued to learn and progress in my own writing while exploring the work of other authors. I think poetry has the power to influence people, and it creates a conversation on important topics, which is why I think it’s a great tool for high school and college students.

Not only can they use it to express their own views and opinions but in reading the work of great authors who have a message to share, it creates a more comfortable and open place to share opinions and allows them to better understand different perspectives.

 Poetry gives readers a glimpse into other lives, and it is a valuable way to experience concepts like grief, struggles, and pain and allowing them to connect with it.

The Wind Speaks Softly
 by Jennika Mullen

 What shall I do when these earthly ties are broken

When the roars of thunder are but a pin drop to my ears

The wind shall soften its heavy blows to a faint whisper

And I’d be lucky if anyone ever hears

 The gentle call, almost a mournful song

The trees stand still with time

And the waves pull back to the ocean

 While the moon controls the tide

What shall I do when these earthly ties are broken

When the slap of lightning echoes on this blessed ground

 And the stars are snuffed like melting candles

While shooting stars are followed by a an empty hollow sound

The sun’s bright rays no longer buzz

And the crickets have fallen silent

 The only thing heard in the countryside

 Is the sound of the day slowly dying