My Pages


Was I just a teacher to her
Sometimes I must wonder
Remembering the calls
Where I was just a reference
Some large musty book upon a shelf
Brought down to answer questions
Maybe check the bindings
Apply a bit of gaffer's tape
Slip me back into the dust

What pages do I have
What questions have been asked
Whether to make career leaps
What makes a gift too cheap
How to make a woman scream
With a simple waving hand
Strategies for family harmony
With battle plans and plots
Dealing with co-workers
Building better serving 'bots

Bound in my old cloth and cardboard
I'm back upon the shelf for good
My paper heart's conflicted on that
Not knowing whether it was real
Or whether she was just book-ending
I'm not being used, at least
But alas, I'm not being used.

Comments

  1. N.

    N. on 01/09/2006 1:26 a.m. #


    I don't really know if this is about me, nor do I know if this is just the artist's perception for the purpose of a poem or if you really feel this way. If you really felt this way, I'm very sorry I've caused this hurt, and I wish you had told me about it rather than posting where I may or may not see it, or may or may not reply.<br />
    <br />
    I sometimes see poems here that could be about me. I usually don't reply for the above reason. But tonight I am objecting. Because I am really hurt by the things you are continually saying about me and our relationship. I usually try to let your words go, and I try to give benefit of doubt as I said above because I can't be sure who or what you mean, and because I am scared of making things worse by replying, I just think about you and hope that you will let go of the hurt you feel and move on. <br />
    <br />
    But now I'm really hurt. I used you? I betrayed you? Is this what you really think of me? Is this the kind of awful person you really think I am? Do you hate me so much that you have to keep writing things like this about me? Because I realize that you are very sensitive where I'm concerned, I do try not to bother you too much. But sometimes (once, twice a year?!), I have a question that I can't think of anyone in the world that I'd want to discuss with except you. And even then I think it over hard, because I am careful of not wanting to hurt you even accidentally. But sometimes I'll call because I really want to talk to you about it, and only you, your perspective, your thoughts will do. About family, work, school, all of it. I guess there are people in my life who sometimes do that with me, and I actually feel happy and grateful for being able to help them, and I like being sometimes the one they can turn to because I might be able to help them in a way that no one else can. I'm sorry that in the case of my questions you don't feel this way, and I guess haven't felt this way for years, since the examples here go back so far, almost ten years... Wow. <br />
    <br />
    I'm so sorry for what you think of me. That I'm a cold user. I too know the hurt that comes from having love not work out. But when I think of you, when I think of our relationship, I think of the good in you, the good memories, I still have faith in you and have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt even when I see the things you have been writing about me.<br />
    <br />
    But now I've had it. I AM NOT the cruel ugly person you make me out to be and I am tired of the crap you spew out about me. It is mean, it is so mean, can't you see that? I'm so shocked, that you could be so ugly to me. What did I ever do to you? I've only seen you once in months... I don't understand why you hate me so much to keep saying this stuff. <br />
    <br />
    Is this what you wanted? To having me crying and hurt? Is this what you have been going for all these months you've been writing stuff like this?<br />
    Well then, you got what you wanted. I hope it was worth it for you.<br />
    N.<br />

  2. Mike Fletcher

    Mike Fletcher on 01/09/2006 10:41 a.m. #


    The poem swings on 3 lines:<br />
    <br />
    "Sometimes I must wonder<br />
    ...<br />
    I'm not being used, at least<br />
    But alas, I'm not being used."<br />
    <br />
    This is a poem of personal insecurity, not condemnation. The dual meanings of "used" in the last two lines are speaking about a fundamental problem in love; that of knowing whether the lover loves you, or just something about you. The selfish self wishes to protect itself from "being used", while the greater self finds joy and happiness in being able to be useful, to give to those I love. The poem is a conversation between those two selves in a moment when the lower self is stronger (or seems so).<br />
    <br />
    The second stanza is a reflection on what I have to offer (or whether I have anything to offer), not so much examples as insecurity warring with itself to see if I have really given anything of value. The choices fluctuate between things that might have been valuable to what seems like it could have been anyone. Again, insecurity there, the high and the low self battling it out. I've only had one great love in my life, so when I think about love it is our relationship and its particular features that come to mind.<br />
    <br />
    As to my writing "crap" about you... either you've not read what I've wrote that involves you, or you're misreading the poems somehow. For the record, poems regarding you:<br />
    <br />
    She Was Beautiful<br />
    Statistics Tell Me<br />
    Slow This Training<br />
    We are so Bloodless<br />
    Desolate Spring<br />
    I Miss the Quiet Nights<br />
    Lonely Dreams<br />
    I Had Been Free<br />
    The Blankets<br />
    I (Can) Resist Her<br />
    I Remember<br />
    My Pages<br />
    Lasting Scents<br />
    <br />
    and, looking at that list, yes, it's time to move on... that's enough poems about a lost love I suppose. Still, I don't think you can really argue that there's venom there. A heart in love is trying to forget what keeps coming to mind years later.<br />
    <br />
    As for my trying to hurt you. You told me you no longer read here, and I was more than a little surprised this morning to find out you'd read any of these poems, let alone were hurt by them. That said, none of the poems had any intention of hurting you. I'm working out my own feelings, maybe find some truths about love on the way that might help someone else.<br />
    <br />
    Anyway, none of that matters I suppose. As seems to be my custom now; I shall endeavour to eliminate all reference, regardless of how veiled, indirect or positive from future postings or poems. I am sorry for having caused you more unhappiness.

  3. Poetic Jones

    Poetic Jones on 04/14/2007 11:57 a.m. #


    Wow, that first commenter certainly has a high opinion of themselves. Guess what - this will amaze you - but - life is not all about you! Can you believe that? People may actually concern themselves with things, activities and thoughts that are NOT ABOUT YOU. Get over your narcissism!

  4. Amos Mitchell

    Amos Mitchell on 04/14/2007 12:50 p.m. #


    God that whiny bitch who posted first is a typical girl - making people feel guilty over her ridiculous reaction to a poem. God, grow up and get over your Marianis Trench full of daddy issues you weirdo.

  5. Mike Fletcher

    Mike Fletcher on 04/14/2007 1:01 p.m. #


    Please do not make such comments, the lady in question deserves no such abuse.

Comments are closed.

Pingbacks

Pingbacks are closed.