A Modern Day Romantic

I am a modern day Romantic. I had these feelings as a young man, and they are stronger now that I am much older. I do not want to abandon the beliefs of the Romantic Movement. I like spontaneity, mirth, intellectual freedom, and the goodness of mankind. In the modern world, Romanticism is demeaned and discarded. The world is all about greed and averice. Romanticism is about sharing and altruism. Sadly, I must make a living, so it is necessary for me to hide my Romanticism. I find it increasingly difficult to do so. I now understand why Sheeley, Keats, Byron, and Coleridge each died at a young age. A true Romantic seldom lives to old age. The pace of his life will not permit it.

Heartbroken

After the passage of 40 years, how can I be still so heartbroken? Her memory haunts me. I have never been happy since we parted.

Another Year

The year 2010 begins as all others. I have a feeling of fear and dread of the work that must be done in the coming months. There are so many things I’d rather do than work; but I must work to sustain our lifestyle and to finish saving for a nice retirement. Memories and unresolved regret still haunt me, but these feelings will fade as the year moves along. The long, cold, dark winter nights make me think of suicide and ending it all. All of the pain and fear I feel will go away, but I will never be able to feel any better.
Most of the time, I just want to be alone with my thoughts. I like the solitude.

A Life Lesson

Being polite, friendly, and solicitous is over rated and apparently grounds for a charge of harrassment. I need to return to my basic credo in life — never trust anyone. This credo has been reinforced countless times in my life, and yet, I choose at times to ignore it. Each time I do, it is reinforced harshly. I am my best and only friend. “Hello Darkness, my old Friend! I have come to talk with you, again.”

Why?

Why is it that after 40 years I still seek this woman’s frienship and affection? I must be very ill to not have forgotten her. And yet, I can not forget her. I must confess that I have thought of nothing but her for the past 43 years. I have never loved anyone as I loved her. She made me laugh. She challenged me intellectually. She could be very serious and in an instant very droll. I cherish the memories I have of her. My feelings for her will be forever unrequieted.
I suspect the reason I remain so taken with her are my thoughts of what might have been had we remained together. I know such speculation is futile and a horrendous waste of time. I can not allow the thoughts to fade. It is as if I am addicted to her memory. With the passing of 40 years, what is the probability that she is the same person I remember? Her memory both delights and torments me.

Life

I’ve moved on and had a good life.
I’ve been successful in several careers.
I’ve had two children and a good wife,
Of the future, I have no fears.

And, yet, something within me yearns
For that companion of my youth
For which some passion still burns.
After forty years, it is still the truth.

The laughter, the friendship, the innocent love
Shared by the two of us — Oh to be young once more!
Her deep brown eyes, the scent of her perfume, I’m oft reminded of
How lovely she was in anything she wore.

Our relationship was not to last.
We followed different paths and are no longer young.
Perhaps it is best not to relive the past.
But lo these many years our parting has stung.

Forty Years of Nothing

I have spent the last 40 years thinking a woman with whom I had a romantic relationship when we were in high school and the first years of college was a friend, and that I might be able to renew our friendship on an adult, intellectual plane. I contacted this woman’s daughter and asked her to forward an email for me to her mother. Her mother responded enthusiastically at first at the thought of ending the long estrangement.  In an ensuing email, I learned she and her husband had divorced after 35 years of marriage. I expressed sorrow at learning of her divorce. I proceeded to tell her that she had been a significant influence in my life and that I had wonderful memories of the times we had spent together in our youth. I sent her links to pictures of my family and our holiday celebrations that I had posted online. I received an email from her stating she no longer wished to communicate with me. What did I do? What did I say? My intentions were purely friendly. Oh well, life goes on.

I am reminded of the Bookends theme from the Simon and Garfunkel album of the same name.

“Time it was and what a time it was it was

A time of innocence, a time of confidences.

Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph.

Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you.”

End of Each Year

As each year draws to a close, I am reminded of New Years Eve, 1969. It was on that day the only woman I ever really loved and I had our last date. I was nearly 21 and she was nearly 19. She and I had been dating for several years. We spent the evening with another couple, Wayne Biggs and Twila Harms, at Ernie’s Esquire Supper Club in Wheeling, WV.

 Our relationship ended shortly thereafter. Not only was she pretty, she had a vivid imagination, a droll sense of humor, and an unmatched intellect. We would spend time reading Keats, Shelley, Byron, and Wordsworth to each other. She loved to play act and understood my sense of humor. Her spontaneity made our time together unpredictable and so much fun. The deep sense of loss I experienced when the relationship ended was akin to my own death. In many ways I have never fully recovered.

I have not seen or spoken to her since the fall of 1984. I have visited the city in which she now resides several times for business and was tempted to contact her. I had gone so far as to look up her telephone number, but have never had the courage to call her. Perhaps it is best that I not contact her. It is difficult enough dealing with her memory this time each year. I am not certian what might result from actual contact with her.

I wish our relationship had endured. There was so much we could have done together. She will forever be my most significant other.

Surrender

I surrender! I surrender!

The realities of life have

Beaten me down. I no longer have

The will to fight. I just want to

Be left alone to enjoy the

Solitude of my books and my

Thoughts. I have lost the will to win,

The drive to rise up each morning

And face the challenges of the

Day. I go to sleep each night with

The notion I might die, never

Working or arguing again.

No longer do I wish to feign

Happiness. Life is much too short

For one to be so unhappy.

Fright Stricken

You reacted with violence during our disagreement.

You struck me numerous times in the shoulder and arm.

Your blows will not permanently injure me physically, although

My arm is black and blue. The greatest pain comes from knowing

That I still care for you, and that I am concerned about your own

Physical and mental well being. The look upon your face

Last night as you pummeled me was frightening. I have never seen

You in such a fit of rage. The discoloration in my arm will

Fade, the physical pain will disappear. The mental pain will linger.

I am a person with few friends and no confidants. I have

But little choice to stay with you.