As we're in this 'lovely' month, I've been going over my previous writings and guess whay I found out? My poor taste hasn't changed! Maybe I shouldn't use the term poor taste, maybe I should use 'illusion'. My illusions still stay the same. Still the same desires, wants etc. Some might call it determination, others a lack of growth.
Call it what you will, I'm a bit downhearted by it cos I'm now thinking, if after 4 years, it hasn't come to pass maybe I need to 'reshuffle the cabinet'? Oh what do I know? Nothing apparently, but one thing I know is that there wil be a right time, place and person. There has to be or so many of us are doomed! Oh dear!
Don't listen to the ramblings of a very tired old goat! Hold on to your dreams, they will happen.
First published 14th April 2007, here was my take on men, love and the whole shebang
I have found recently that I write about really elusive men, I mean men that don't exist for me, fine, handsome, intelligent, humorous men. Ok I lie, I have met some of these men but only in passing, either they are moving swiftly to other women or they are too absorbed in just how wonderful they are!
Yet I find myself making mental homage to these men that are only mine in a dream state where I reign supreme as 'The Desired' I have actually thought that if I were ever allowed to choose a name for myself it would be Desiree, the extra 'e' showing the extent of longing, but it would also show what strong narcissistic whims I enjoy.
Moving swiftly on, I look at many of my writings as a homage that that man that will never be and I don't feel bad about it anymore, I used to really feel angry when I was much younger (yeah!) That I couldn't find any man to fit that mould I had carved but now I'm not resigned, just accepting, that truth is really further from fiction, but...fiction is good, that is why so many millions of copies of 'Mills and Boon', 'Vogue' etc have sold, fiction is appealing and we would still get our noses stuck in it, just so that we can, for those 84 minutes (the longest it's taken me to finish one) just to indulge in that elevated reality.
I have taken to writing my own fiction, its familiar yet strange, shallow as a cup of water but deep enough to quench my thirst, it's mine so I can make it to be whatever I want and I do.
I'm rambling, so I'll just put in my latest offering to that man in the pages of my reverie and float away again.
HE
He is a dream
He is an easy dream
A delightful dream on a lazy day
Beautiful eyes let me lounge
I'll gladly lie eternal in this sleep
If you'll let me.
He is a tree
He is a graceful tree
A grand tree in a buoyant field
Wonderful hair let me roll
I'll gladly skirmish in your lush fragrant mane
If you'll let me.
He is an eagle
He is a majestic eagle
A strong eagle gliding in a blue sky
Graceful beast, let me fly
I'll gladly soar the winds with you
If you'll let me.
He is a river
He is a raging river
A strong river rushing out to face the sea
Splendid man, let me swim
I'll gladly be submerged under your will
If you'll let me.
He is a man
He is my man
A man worth writing slushy poetry for
Beautiful, wonderful, graceful, splendid man, let me be
I'll gladly move to whatever rhythm you beat
Just let me.
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