Walking Home With a Notebook and a Sonnet (Part 3)

Saying Goodbye to Jewell

My conversation with Jewell sadly finished when she told me she had to make her way to the Mall to meet her mum. However, Jewell was patient and she was acting like she didn’t want to leave me, as if she cherished our moments as much as I did and she knew this would be the last time she would bump into me for a while.

“You know, I’m glad I got to talk to you today,” I told her with sincerity. “Are you,” she queried not being sarcastic but uncertain that I was capable of that truth. Jewell obviously thought that I wanted her to keep walking and that I was angry at her but I said to her, “There’s no chance that I would have passed up this opportunity to speak with you.”

That caused Jewell to be a bit more cautious about leaving but eventually she had to jump up to meet with her mum. The moments when Jewell finally jumped up were uncertain ones because she didn’t know how to say goodbye. For a second I thought she was going to hug me or it seemed that she was thinking of kissing me on the cheek but that never happened. I have in love been hardened and in mind, and ails this heart as it doth persist.

I’m sure the thought of saying “Maybe Ill call you some day” or “Call me if you feel the need” was in both our minds and the will to keep in contact was ever-present but neither of us ventured to those words. I don’t feel sad for not having said anything because I am wary of my hardened love due to the troubles of the past. Besides, I know in the future that Jewell and I will meet again and it won’t be for a little ten-minute talk, it will be for an eternity of remembrance.

Thanking Fate and Walking Home

As Jewell made her way up the street and out of sight I realized the emptiness that had ensued. The loveless love of my life had walked clear of it and to these days where I tried to forget about Jewell I had to go back to. Suddenly, the wind began to make me feel cold and I began to quiver in a tremble. This was odd as for the whole day the wind did not bother me but I gathered it was due to the heartfelt loss that my body felt to show it so.

The thought of jumping on a bus and taking the easy way home was no longer in my mind. I thanked fate for having me lose sight of my parents so that I couldn’t get a lift home and miss seeing Jewell. I thanked the bus for taking half an hour more than usual and I thanked my choice to sit at the bus stop on Dumaresq Street instead of the station.

With all this thanking and thought on my mind I knew the only answer was to walk. Such liberation walking did give me and fate did luck me once again by allowing me to remember my little notebook from my days at Hyde Park. All the way home I was writing thoughts of my little encounter and lines of poetry. All of a sudden I had the urge to write poetry and it couldn’t have been for any better an inspiration. Yet, I will to some days deliberation halt this raw energy as too much thought clogs my mind right now. I will let these thoughts ease and sieve the better portions into a poetical talent.

Poetry and TAFE

Speaking of poetry, that was one of the better moments in my conversation with Jewell. Where we got to relive the better portions of the past and have a smile about them. Picking up the book of poetry that I had borrowed so that Jewell could sit next to me I showed it to her through conversation. That explained where I had been for the day as Jewell uttered, “One of your better qualities.”

Explaining to Jewell that I was looking to expand my knowledge at TAFE for English she remarked, “You don’t need to go to TAFE, you have all the knowledge you need.” If only Jewell knew that I continued poetry because of the emotions centered around my heart and that the lost years Sonnets are dedicated to our remembrance. While walking home and having the book in my hand I developed an ideology about what poetry has done to my emotional being. I wrote, “It is here I hold the tool of love and remorse, that I with all hardened fingers do grieve.”

With poetry in my life, emotions, words and my living loves, I did go through many contrasts. Poetry at one end did bring me a greater love between Jewell and I but in the end, those patriotic words of love did bring my separation, confusion and then remorse. Still, poetry does bring me remorse but a clearer understanding of love as well. Now seeing Jewell again I’m not too sure if all my sonnets about our love being betrothed and being of lust is true. I feel that the difference in the air surrounding us caused me to distort my true belief of love to something less desirable to conceal the truth.

Notes From the Notebook

Getting home at 1:30 p.m. I began to write immediately in my Diary to brand the thoughts in which my emotions lived. I realized that with one of my better thoughts “I live for these memories and die with reminiscence.” When I was back at home and thinking upon our meeting I noted, “Now I wish it longer have been, for my embrace to embrace thee.” I truly believe that poetry is one of my better forsythes and if my tongue were to speak it, I would improve my tongue tenfold. (The word Forsythe has been an added word to my list that I have created.

It means attribute, quality, ability). Thus, I continue with my notes to have said “Thou hath a forsythe, I do commend it, an’t be commendable, this thing called love.” Finally, of my notes, when I was walking home I thought that walking was a great satisfaction, to ease the pains of a growing concern. Thus, I went on to say “I would best wander than to wane with concern.” Also, the thought of the freedom with the fixing of my bike urged me to write, “I would to a bike ride to amend my growing concerns.”

A Silent Phone and Old Songs

The phone is still silent, the breeze pushing against my window and the view, tumultuous as trees do bend their perseverance. The thought of Jewell ringing indeed is a thought and with time shall it not adjourn like all other thoughts. Nevertheless, a thought does with perturbed recollection grow on a man’s mind. Then will not these concerns concern me all the more with time. Will this reality as quickly become a fantasy again if I were to wait on the phone for the past to call. These questions I do not answer, care not answer but care to sleep. My eyes do grow tired with all the spirit today so I must rest them, sleep them and dream them.

How time has surely matured me and this mind. Having felt the urge to listen to both CDs I sent to Jewell as well as read the poems and enjoy the artistry, I have seen much ripening that comes with age. The first CD I must admit was rather adolescent of my artistic ability. The songs themselves I feel were put together in too quick a time leaving me without proper judgment. Now I feel that there were only two songs that expressed how I felt justly, the last two songs.

Despite being a tad on the scrappy side when it came to mixing the songs together the poem still stands as a remarkable creation. It represented my poetical flair without a meter, just in a blank verse format. However, it would better be suited if the last line read “Remembrance as do I bleed, for all the right reasons or for wrong.”

Upon hearing the song ‘Slip Away’ I could almost see the video clip that I could create for such an emotional memory. This song of course places landmark on the great day at the fig tree and then a contrasting turnaround that night when I felt indifference that would eventually separate us. The song ‘Leavin’ as usual brought a tear to my eye because of the sad truth within the lyrics and ‘How Could You’ reminded me so much of how I was feeling and how I would feel in a couple of weeks time.

Each time I listen to that CD I never tire of it. Each song is etched in existence of my memory and the songs are so heartfelt they always appeal to me. No tacky ‘Can We Talk’ songs by ‘Tevin Campbell’, just purity in truth. Each time I listen to that CD and look at the artistry I could write infinite thoughts and suggestions within these pages and somehow, I always do…

A Shakespeare Poem

Before I leave I have some more passing thoughts to encumber these pages and my reminiscence. Just quickly reading through my new Shakespearean book I came across a poem by the man himself that did so agree with me. The pure tapestry in which words were woven do astound the tributaries of my love’s fascination.

The poem does focus on the familiarities between the confusion, contrasts and reality of the understanding between Jewell and I. When we were actually going out with each other but that time was surreal. There is not much truth to reality but a figment of truth as opposed to a reminiscent reality. The poem alike the brunt of his Sonnets does not have a title but it is the seventh poem of ‘The Passionate Pilgrim’ series.

Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;

Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;

Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle;

Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty;

A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her,

None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.

Her lips to mine how often hath she join’d,

Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!

How many tales to please me hath she coin’d,

Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!

Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,

Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.

She burn’d with love, as straw with fire flameth;

She burn’d out love, as soon as straw outburneth;

She fram’d the love, and yet she foil’d the framing;

She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning.

Was this a lover, or a lecher whether,

Bad in the best, though excellent at neither.