Dave's Progress. Chapter 11: Tread Softly, Yeats Might Sue.

So, it appears that my addiction problems are not yet over. This is the third blog I've written in, what, a week or so. I have never done so many blogs in quick succesion. I am writing this very early in the morning as I cannot get to sleep. Maybe that's the real problem. I wake up at 4am with nothing to do but get on my blog.
Anyway, thought I would use this one to print another poem. You've had the political and the depressing, so thought this time I'd get romantic. Hopefully though the poem is not overly sentimental, but speaks of true, deep feelings of regret and loss. You will also notice that in it, I use the phrase "tread softly", which if truth be told I kind of nicked from the great Irish poet William Butler Yeats. So, what is this? Downright plaigirism? I hope not, because Yeats' estate might sue me. Instead, I like to think of it as postmodern intertextual referentiality. Bit of a mouthful, I know, but you know the sort of thing, that all texts are based on other texts, or as Roland Barthes put it, "the almost always already written".
So, here goes. The poem is called "Tread Softly, My Love Lies Buried Here".

She was sixteen,
I was the same,
She was obsessed,
I was to blame.

As time went on,
We became as one,
Merged together our identities,
Read a book called How can I love you and retain my integrity?

Then came the infidelities,
The cloying draw of other opportunities,
The massive weight of responsibilities,
My love lies buried here.

She went away,
I did the same,
Started to go a little insane,
Felt the darkness come and was drawn to the flame.

Think I died that day,
The day she went away,
So if you look in my eyes and can almost see the world's sphere,
Tread softly, because my love lies buried here.

As you may have guessed the poem is autobiographical, and it was at about the time that it describes that all my mental health problems began. This wasn't the only thing going on in my life, but it was a large part of it and its probably taken me 15 years to get over it all properly. So, tread softly, because not only might W.B. Yeats sue me, I've also been trodden on before.
Now, though, I can only say I have a renewed hope for life. Who knows what's round the corner just waiting to happen? And I think that now I'd be just about ready for it. That's all for now from your normal, average, delusional and paranoid man.


dcrelief said…
Hi David:
I think Yeats would shed a tear as I did reading the feeling poured forth. Thank you for sharing that moment in time. 'Closure' can be quite the four letter word, and I empathize with the loss and the healing.
Most sincerely,
klahanie said…
Dear David,
I am most pleased that you are sharing your blogging 'addiction' with us.
From our previous interaction, I'm sure you realise that I am great admirer of not only your writing and poems but the man I have met beyond the screen.
Your latest poem is a bit of a reflection of my own life. I know the loss of my love was most certainly a contribting factor in my own mental health decline. There is one last, very painful blog about my lost love that I am working on writing.
Please continue to share with us your wonderful articulation David. Thanks very much for your comment on my last blog. I know your thoughts are with our planetary pal 'Pluto'..which has nothing to do with 'Uranus'.
Warm wishes Gary.

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