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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

ToU - A Love Story-i







Wrote this while on the daily bus commute to work, and am posting it here with all the necessary legal warnings about copyright, and property rights, etc.
Not that I feel anybody is gonna be tempted to appropriate my attempt to poetry. Don't think the point is to show any particular writing ability but just let it flow. Make your feelings known, kind of, you know.

Just in case, let it be known that the author is me.
Here it is:
Not Getting Better
At missing you
Not by a long shot
Thing is
Love
I
[This poor soul
that without you
floats in a sea of nothingness]
do not want to get better
I want to miss you in the morning
when dew still makes the earth shine
And at night
when the stars make us dream
I want to miss you
when you are away from me
and your smile is tempered
But mostly, love
I want to miss you
while you are next to me
So that you
feeling my anxiety
at even the thought of your being
away from me
can be persuaded from ever leaving
I am
Not getting any better, love
at missing you
Not by a long shot
And I do not want to

ToU - A Love Story






And so one day you ask yourself, what if I were to write a love story?
Something that when read it will make people think, man, I wish that happened to me! Or not. Their reaction could always be wow, wonder when they’ll ever get a break!
It wouldn’t have to be an epic but certainly not pulp fiction.
I mean, not kill yourself vainly trying to imitate Shakespeare in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ but definitely most definitely not be just another [space blank so you can insert the romance writer whose name you clearly utterly absolutely despise.]
One thing you learn fast of course is this business of writing love stories is not for the faint-hearted. If you want to do it right, of course. Like with most any other type of writing, experience is not necessarily required. But it sure does help.
Let me give you an example.
What if you were to have no other motivation at all than an old pix and somebody were to ask you: write something about that and put some romantic content in it.
Let me try, you say. And you go like:
Shot this pix a while ago. It was meant to be kind of a self-portrait.
So kind of thought it funny that day when somebody asked, "Who shot that picture?" And all you could say was, "Nobody, don’t have nobody to shoot me pix."
But the question kept gnawing at you, like ‘Can’t anybody believe that I can operate a camera?’
Till it became clear that in a way it had actually been a lucky shot — that one-in-a-million click that somehow captures what’s really inside you, which is where she always was.