‘Edenbray in Exile’

A Retrospective Anthology of Poetry, Articles and Essays

… … …

IF I HAD NEVER LOVED

. . .

If I had never loved and felt that nauseous pang

Nor wanted, nor desired, nor rung my heart with its devotion

Or followed blindly, desperate only to convince 

of loves sincerity, of loves virginity, of loves authenticity

If I had never caught myself, lost in reverie

my mind slaved and blurred by loves insanity

my head shaved and burned of all its mediocrity

Or tumbled, humbled, stumbled mercilessly

wearing only the tattered vestment of star-crossed youth,

the branded sign of passions passage

which is a heap of burnt-eared corn,

a bloated starfish, an abandoned mine

If I had cared less or thrown daisies

from a speeding car window

then today I would float unhappily

toward that thunderous, fascinating weir,

Not hold a pocket full of yellow, paper confetti

Nor smell a warm kiss or the fragrance from an open window

..

writtenbyedenbray17.11.2012

.

#Authors Note ~ Not an advert for love at all is this one – more like a warning to those of a finer disposition – Enter the world of passion and love at your peril for it will change you, scar you, significantly alter you. I have to acknowledge that this piece also seems to have crept out of my more feminine corner and will not retire very soon, although if we are seriously going to attempt some self-psychoanalysis today then certainly that particular observation does not really take myself by surprise.

There can quite often be a nod to the yang rather than the ying in my work as the more sincere devotees of this BLOG should be able to quietly affirm, but while checking this piece for points of grammar and spelling and originally for some unknown reason – that most beautiful moment came into my head from the film ~ ‘Out Of Africa’ where Karen von Blitzen played by Meryl Streep reads a verse from a poem written by Alfred Edward Houseman over the grave of her departed lover – Dennis Finch Hatton.

And round that early-laurelled head

Will flock to gaze, the strengthless dead,

And find unwithered on its curls

Now, it finally struck me, as to why that occurrence did occur and it is of course for the very nature of A.S. Houseman’s more feminine observation. It seems on reading my Poem back through, that I felt I had recognised a writer of a kindred-spirit.

Love is such a powerful force – who would wish to miss that magical Theme Park ride?

..

.. ‘If I had never loved’