Love is a Four Letter Word for Regret
Cd in Play: My Bloody Valentne, Loveless.
"Nothing quite takes the taste out of peanut butter like unrequited love." - Charlie Brown
Found a picture of someone I really cared about a decade ago. Her name was Sarah Dalton. A case of unrequited love. I think I am past the point of moaning about it, but it is interesting how some feelings can persist, lying in a dormant state until stirred up by something. Quite coincidentally, (and I do believe in coincidence) I found the picture shortly after rediscovering some old poems I wrote about Sarah. Don't know what I think about these poems. I suppose they have their merits, or perhaps I am just uncomfortable with the subject of love.
Feb 1996
I had to take some Fine Arts students to the Vancouver Art Gallery, since I was the T.A. for the Art Department. Sarah came along and then we spent the day downtown and in North Vancouver. It was a good day and after dropping her back off at her dorm I really knew that I felt something for her. I had felt that she might have been developing feelings for me as well. (see this link) These are the poems I wrote about that day. Note - much of my poetry was about visual presentation. Blogger forces alignment conformity making it impossible for me to display these to you as they should be.
Day in the City
I
CockingheaDs at
Shadboltbutterflys
we walk the Gallery
toward the deepgreens
and talltotems
(would my Grandfather dream of tea?)
brushing together in honour
of our surroundings
Or am
I seeing
morethanthere
actuallyis?
II
Sunsparkledpoolsof brown
pretty shortshortreddress
notsosluttyreally
but sweet.
I never knew
that kneescould
have such*
Aapeall.
III
We walk
in the grey spattered sundappled city
moving easily through people.
Moving in tandem
yet not quite in line
she out guesses my every step
to leave me in silence
to marvel at how her head tilts
to trap me
like a mosquito
in her amber eyes.
- February 1996
It was at the end of March that I was completely honest with her, but I was too late if I ever had a chance at all. Two of the poems are finished one was just a fragment I never developed. The last poem was written as final attempt to deal with my feelings for once and for all. I actually showed it to Sarah and she semed a bit choked up. I think I was able to move on from there, that was how it felt at the time anyhow. We had maintained a friendship in 1997 and even went out a few times, despite her plans to marry someone else. It ended well and appropriately for us.
The day is spent
bitter salt on a mouth's corners
200 ASA for a decade's pain
an iris and a cradling breeze for her
spoiled sunlight and regret for me
In about ten minutes she is gone.
- April 1996
Spring's Favourites
In the two
sterile months since
I last saw you,
the Sun
has been
all sullenly bleached out
and pale
Like oldold cedar
on the shoreline.
I am spent and emptyand
there are no songs
to sing
no paintings to bleed out
and no words
to say it all back
to betterness.
You have gone
and Spring has
passed me
by
in favour
of another.
- June 1996
Poems for Sarah
Poems for Sarah
and she has so many to keep
binding them to herself
like
the children
she could never have.
If
my body were
words on paper
I could be
her lover
feeling
her fingers
brush
my face
caressing every crease
and
hanging
on every
line.
- March 1997
"Nothing quite takes the taste out of peanut butter like unrequited love." - Charlie Brown
Found a picture of someone I really cared about a decade ago. Her name was Sarah Dalton. A case of unrequited love. I think I am past the point of moaning about it, but it is interesting how some feelings can persist, lying in a dormant state until stirred up by something. Quite coincidentally, (and I do believe in coincidence) I found the picture shortly after rediscovering some old poems I wrote about Sarah. Don't know what I think about these poems. I suppose they have their merits, or perhaps I am just uncomfortable with the subject of love.
Feb 1996
I had to take some Fine Arts students to the Vancouver Art Gallery, since I was the T.A. for the Art Department. Sarah came along and then we spent the day downtown and in North Vancouver. It was a good day and after dropping her back off at her dorm I really knew that I felt something for her. I had felt that she might have been developing feelings for me as well. (see this link) These are the poems I wrote about that day. Note - much of my poetry was about visual presentation. Blogger forces alignment conformity making it impossible for me to display these to you as they should be.
Day in the City
I
CockingheaDs at
Shadboltbutterflys
we walk the Gallery
toward the deepgreens
and talltotems
(would my Grandfather dream of tea?)
brushing together in honour
of our surroundings
Or am
I seeing
morethanthere
actuallyis?
II
Sunsparkledpoolsof brown
pretty shortshortreddress
notsosluttyreally
but sweet.
I never knew
that kneescould
have such*
Aapeall.
III
We walk
in the grey spattered sundappled city
moving easily through people.
Moving in tandem
yet not quite in line
she out guesses my every step
to leave me in silence
to marvel at how her head tilts
to trap me
like a mosquito
in her amber eyes.
- February 1996
It was at the end of March that I was completely honest with her, but I was too late if I ever had a chance at all. Two of the poems are finished one was just a fragment I never developed. The last poem was written as final attempt to deal with my feelings for once and for all. I actually showed it to Sarah and she semed a bit choked up. I think I was able to move on from there, that was how it felt at the time anyhow. We had maintained a friendship in 1997 and even went out a few times, despite her plans to marry someone else. It ended well and appropriately for us.
The day is spent
bitter salt on a mouth's corners
200 ASA for a decade's pain
an iris and a cradling breeze for her
spoiled sunlight and regret for me
In about ten minutes she is gone.
- April 1996
Spring's Favourites
In the two
sterile months since
I last saw you,
the Sun
has been
all sullenly bleached out
and pale
Like oldold cedar
on the shoreline.
I am spent and emptyand
there are no songs
to sing
no paintings to bleed out
and no words
to say it all back
to betterness.
You have gone
and Spring has
passed me
by
in favour
of another.
- June 1996
Poems for Sarah
Poems for Sarah
and she has so many to keep
binding them to herself
like
the children
she could never have.
If
my body were
words on paper
I could be
her lover
feeling
her fingers
brush
my face
caressing every crease
and
hanging
on every
line.
- March 1997
posted by Magnus at 23:47
5 Comments:
Wow. You really have a way with words. I'm envious at the way you can express your emotions with words. I'd blather on, but it would diminish what I mean and I don't know quite how to say what I mean...know what I mean? :)
The trouble with unrequited love
Is that it always stays the same
The trouble with unrequited love
Is that it always will remain
It wasn't tried, found wanting
It was never tried at all
It lingers on
An eternal bond
To the hole in my life
where she used to be
mqxoi
" I'm envious at the way you can express your emotions with words."
Although, if I were a little less adept at expressing myself I might have an easier time with employers. Thanks for that, I was not sure I really wanted to put those up on the blog, a little too personal. Sharing them with friends is one thing, but the causal aquaintence and passers-by...
I wanted to say something poetic but I haven't got the gift of poetry like you. I think It takes a lot to express how you feel. It takes even more to write your feelings on a blog for every one to see and to be honest ( I like honesty). There is a wave of admiration coming your way Magnus and it is coming from my direction.
"Sharing them with friends is one thing, but the causal aquaintence and passers-by..."
Yes, they might steal your ideas and download your information, and use them to woo other girls with similar names. And you're wasting space on my computer by posting them here!
(For all those who missed it, that's an in-joke, that.)
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