OK!  I know what you are thinking.  David lost his mind somewhere between here and the last train stop.  Living life can be hectic.  He told us that he made a machine that can do anything, however.  Then he went on to talk about the number thirteen and how it came to be, all in the guise of doing another fitness blog.  But now, he writes more poetry.  You could have understood if I wrote more depressing poetry.  You could understand me expressing through my words about my rough and challenging life.  That could have been forgiven.  But now you see I write today with the title “Inspired By Love.”  I have taken things too far as far as you are concerned.  I really have taken poetry to eleven.

Have I Lost My Mind?  Maybe.

 

Well, I want to let you know right now, you do not have to worry.  Despite my wild-eyed demeanor, I have not escaped to the hearts and flowers train.  I am not all on board with the candy express.  As of the moment, I will not be turning in my man card in favor of box seats for an “All-you-can-watch” romantic comedy marathon movie ticket at the local cineplex.  The poetry’s dark and brooding nature exists for the world to see, however.  My poetry wrenches at your heart today, as it has always done.  For some men, this might mean I need to turn in my man card.  Nevertheless, I will leave this for you to decide.

So today, I am introducing to you something a bit different than last time.  To understand this set of poems, you must understand it is a complex tapestry.  Originally, I wrote it to be one unique unit, with 12 different subsets of sonnets.  It was to be a living breathing unit.  Despite this wish, some of the sonnets I lost to time or the trash can.  The reasons I lost the poetry to the trash can be felt in the expression of the poetry itself.  This isn’t to say that it’s bad poetry, however.  The poetry speaks for itself.  Usually, I do not want to get rid of my poetry, even the sad stuff.  But in this set of poems, you can sense the maelstrom of emotions tugging at my soul.  And to understand that, you need to hear a story.

Healing Poetry For The Broken OR Broken Poetry For The Healing

My heart had been broken two years previously by an ex-fiancee who left me for her ex-boyfriend.  This would have been bad enough, were it not for the date: February 14.  So I lost myself for a while.  I dated around a bit, but wouldn’t want to commit to anyone.  As a result, the relationships I participated in lasted four months, maximum.  In comes a woman, a vision, all the way from England, who expresses a genuine interest for me as a person.  She swept me off my feet, which is weird to say as a guy.  What happened next can only be attributed to a whirlwind of circumstances.  If distance, nationality or timing had been different, I cannot say what would have happened.  What did happen was one of the biggest push-pull relationships of which I have been a part.

Even Gaps Tell A Story

As for the poetry, it captures the story of that relationship.  Despite my intent, gaps exist in the work.  But I think it adds to the feelings expressed.  This is too confusing you say.  Given that it’s missing four sonnets, how do you will know that you have understood it?  Despite what you think, ff you capture the rapturous feeling, you understood it.  If you can feel the confusion, I tell you now, you understood it.  And if you can feel the pain of loss, and emptiness afterward, I connected with you the way I wanted to when I wrote it.  But why the title of the blog you ask?  I chose this because it speaks truth to me.  Love inspired me to write it.  Pain might have played a part.  As did confusion.  But ultimately, I wrote it for love.


So without further ado, I share with you my second poetry post:

To My Beautiful Illusion

I.

Eyes apart, adrift, scattered and broken,
Along a sea of time taken away,
Capture my repose amidst the water
Of lingering feelings left for a day.
I dream of this elusive emotion
Where faded hearts will fly in violet skies,
That wolves will leave alone not to bother
Sacrosanct villages where no love dies.
Kave, Kanwal pieces of my inside
Fall among the autumn leaves whose color
Palette exceeds Piccaso’s little brush.
Make me not call out into the empty
Hall, echoing my voice in shattered waves
Until winter decided that it will crush.

II.

Machine unused, decorating the dust,
Brings these two together in such a state
How could this be? This little box and we
Sit together a world apart and date.
What can be found in words and not a face?
The screen while lit illuminates and hides
My true self that I would wish to present
Behind the lines where my heart does reside.
Carrie, Kanwal, I whisper into your
Ears a name, a face, a heart not ready
To be broken by the whimsy of Fate.
To meet at all as crazy people do,
Turning pages faster as time will trip
The pure in spirit as they often wait.

III.

A meeting, tearful, happy and joyous,
Undaunted by any map and border
Occurs along the lines of heart’s wand‘ring,
Colliding chaos producing order.
The two, now one, lifting the veils of truth
Discovering the timeless fields of mirth
Where even confusion fades into blue
Skies and Cotton clouds at sun’s dawn birth.
Kanwal, Love me not in sugar coated
Ways meant to cover our scarlet outer
Parts dipped in envy of what others have.
This love must be grown with grace and passion,
Placed in the care of Pandora’s dark box,
Opened not for greed, only as we gave.

IV.

A wave, a hug, a kiss and a goodbye
As we depart into the gray unknown
Of machines and circuits connecting words
We can’t touch to express how they have grown.
What now my love? With no kiss to express,
Does passion fade with loss of hands to touch?
Are the rainbows of tomorrow eclipsed
By something so little and yet so much?
Kave, Carrie, my heart has not left port,
For by your side, although my touch has gone,
There is a heart to replace my warm hand.
My love, you’ll see is endless as the wave
Crashing to the shore. It may seem to fade
But the tide brings me back to your dry land.

V.

A ticket, a hope, finds its way to shore;
A bottle’s wish is left along the sand.
Dare we once more to grant this broken dream
And find that life cannot always be planned?
The pain, the hurt might push us both away
To find that island we both know the best
While on that ride the two of us do hide
In murky water and the ocean’s crest.
Kave, the moon, and all its glowing beams
Can only light the sky until the night
Has passed its scepter to the next day’s sun.
One question remains among the tattered
Ruins of our hearts. Are we yet willing
To be broken and make the wrongs to run?

VI.

A heart, aloft, immune and fluttering,
Dodging passions words meant but to caress
And still the tide of black-heavy anger,
Sets sail along vast ocean’s scarlet dress.
Violet hues burned in sunset’s fire capture
But a part of the tale of love burnt out,
Before there was a “we” in which to dream
Of seas, of skies, and boats to sail about.
Love me, Carrie, with what little you can
Give a fellow traveler on this windy
Road, and you will purchase pure poetry.
Why can’t you see every day you open
Up, this endless well of burning candles
Flickers warmth and beauty in harmony.

VII.

A man, alone with gallant friends to tell
Adventurous tales of whales and parties
So elegant and fine that only kings
And princes preposterous may parlay.
Yet, he dreams of the silence of closed lips
Pressed lightly to his own, and softer eyes
Eliciting radiant turquoise smiles,
Earthen, grounded and bereft of the lies.
Carrie, Kave, I would wish to never
Flee if I were but to know your embrace
Around the longings of a quiet man.
A wish may be made upon a little
Thing that grows up into the star that lights
Heaven’s skies golden as the darkness ran.

VIII.

We meet again among the azure dreams
That cabbages and kings cannot destroy.
Our hearts again as silent as the sea
Tossed about on the ocean like a toy.
Dream with me awake, awhile, alluding
To the fusion of romance and color,
In the purple hues of intense yearning
That wishing and wanting cannot tailor.
Kave, Love me, always, tender, taking
Nothing for granted, believing in me
That what I say comes from within my heart.
And yet you’re free to wander off alone
Until your heart finds home with a person
Able to see more than beauty’s small part.


Continue The Conversation

So, what things in your life have caused your emotions to swirl in all different directions?  Despite your desire for something different, how did the situation resolve itself?  And what kinds of things have you done to try to save a relationship?  Have you been able to make relationships work, despite the distance?

As always I would love to hear from you.  What do you think of the new poem?  Where do you feel like the gaps on the poem are?  And how would you fill in those gaps?  If you love this poem, check out some of my other poetry.

Please follow me here at the guide.  Subscribers to my blog through email will receive exclusive access to the Dad Rules.  Thanks for stopping by here once again

Until next time, this is me signing off.

David Elliott, Single Dad’s Guide to Life