To see or not to see? That is Perception…

In school, When I was younger and more naiive, I used to write love poems to my Concubine. But I didn’t do it directly, I used to write poems on behalf of my friends, to their girlfriends. While her mates used to berrate her on how I never gave her anything, she would read these love letters they received, with a quiet calm and a hidden smile knowing that I had written them and they were all actually to her.

Then I took a 8 year hiatus from writing pretty much anything believe it or not. Writing started to hurt without a muse you see.

Anywho, upon telling my ex I this story, she grew increasingly jealous she hadn’t yet inspired me to write anything and that my past relationship was more meaningful than ours. So for our anniversary in Dec 2008 I wrote this for her.


Furtive Memorendum


Gone are the days of lonely hearts,

Only the love remains


Forever a means to end the guilt,

Underneath the rainforest of serendipity.

Cumbersome the night falls,

Knowing our song, it performs so softly.


Young and tiresome were my arms,

Of endless longing for your companion.

Unison of thoughts and minds,

Raging through perils, side by side.


Succumb to the knowledge of my elation.

Every peril, a minor obstacle.

Labour of love notwithstanding,

Fate of morpheus has sealed our affection.


She enjoyed it somewhat, albeit she admitted it was mildly cheesy and she would have preferred something more gritty to reflect our relationship with each other. I kinda just smiled at that response.

Then came valentine’s day in 2009 where I was asked for another bit of poetry. I regave her the same poem to her dismay. She looked at me puzzled and I told her she had yet to read it properly.

While still startled, I told her to intepret this furtive memorendum (aka hidden message)  and to read the ‘first line’ again. She then started ‘Gone are the days…’ and I stopped her.  ‘First line, DOWN’, I reiterated…

She started ‘G..o…f u.c…’

On finally reading it, She bursts out laughing in the restaurant which was quickly replaced by a smitten smirk.

‘That’s more like it….You’re such the cunning linguist…’ she answered

‘You have no idea…’ I Poised…

True story Innocent