Dearest Mary Angel,

I wrote something the other evening. I was up late doing it too. It's interesting to me that I have written more in the last couple of months than I've written in the last year. Last years New Year's eve poem was a departure from war and conflict, concentrating for the first time on my own personal war with loneliness.

And that's where I am. And yet, where I am now, I've found new inspiration. This I believe is why so much writing of late. This someone truly inspires me. And even though I know she's not interested in me as I am in her I'm not bothered by it, which is refreshing.

So I found myself writing introspectively of the past, the present, and future. She's the fulcrum upon which this poem is balanced but she is not the object. If there is an object, she is yet unknown to me.

So I started out with a phrase... 'something really bad'. I thought at the beginning it would be a bad composition, because I wasn't in the mood to write. But the more I opened up to what was churning in my heart I realized I had to find a way to incorporate the line into the body, rather than personify the it in the whole.



"Something Really Bad"

Moving through the eastern sun
I saw you first upwind of tomorrow
Hands caressing the long tall grasses
Heart swung knells of bells you rung
For all tomorrow's sorrow
And here I am wanting, wishing too
For early morning and morning dew
Wanting and wishing only for you

I caught you in the noonward tides
Sun above, beginning to fall
Embraced you in these arms of summer
Raim'd in love and light besides
And dreams we swore, nor did forestall
Now here I am wanting, and wishing too
I'd caught you in the morning
   ~Made love upon the dewy dew
No more wishing, but wanting of you

The pipers in the trees
Orchestrating accompaniments
To the rhythm of our cries
Perfect echo to our sighs
Safe in long tall grasses
Away from all their prying eyes
Something really bad could happen
Were it not for our many allies

Sun falls swiftly in the sky
Shadows threshing our lover's bed
Our dewy bower in sepias warm
Where long tall grasses yet lie
Where love, life and promise wed
Yet here we still are wanting, wishing too
We could see again the morning
   ~Make love upon the early dew
Ever wanting and wishing for you
   ~You for me
Ever wanting and wishing for you and
You for me
Ever wanting and wishing forever for you
And you for me
Wishing again to be

Pipers in the trees
Orchestrating accompaniments
To the rhythm of our sighs
Perfect echo to our cries
Safe in the tall grasses
Away from all of their prying eyes
Something untoward might very well happen
Were it not for all our many allies
Here in the tall tall grass
Ever wanting or wishing for you, and
You for me
Ever wanting and wishing for you, and
You for me
Ever wanting and wishing forever for you
And you for me
Wishing again that we might be
Again


ELAshley
110309.111456.6
Revisions:
110309.104203.6
110409.031117.6





I'd like to think there was a melody in my head while I wrote, but rarely is this the case. And I know it's not a particularly inspiring title, but for now it is what it is. Perhaps I'll change it... but not today.

I listened to David Gray's Babylon (Live) throughout this effort...

If you want it
Come and get it...
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now

What I want I cannot have, and that dearest Mary Angel has been the story of my life. But I'm not complaining. I am somewhat content where I am, with but a vague internal impression of lurking wantonness. I guess you could say I'm experiencing my very own mid-life crisis. No Harleys or Corvettes... Just lots of introspection, and a very deep and powerful desire to belong to someone.

This someone I mentioned prompted an exchange where 'the Kiss' was pondered and mulled. I quoted one of my characters in the book I'm writing, who said of Romance,

"Romance is a blanket woven from deep affection, and a desire to fulfill another's desire. Perfection in romance is when both share the work of weaving."

--Angelina Marni
From The Gardens of Loveplay

I sent her one of my poems, One Kiss, then reflected upon just what a kiss was. This is what I came up with,

"A kiss is two pair of lips embracing the soul of one fleeting moment."

This too did I share with her. I guess you could say I am flirting with her, but I also know she's not particularly interested in me, in that respect. But then... my ability to read women hasn't changed since I unconsciously ran from your overtures all those many years ago.

And I'm listening still to David Gray's Babylon

Friday night I'm going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red...

So I'm doing what I can to reverse that... all the lights changing red to green... looking for that woman who will put a ring on my finger.


Until then, I am ever yours, sweet Mary Angel


E