Thursday, June 21, 2007

My Dark Lady


I read a poem some years ago, more than I care to remember in fact, by Herman Hesse. It was published in a little collection of writing called ‘Wandering’. The poem haunted me for a long time. Still does to an extent. It told of how he builds a life in his minds eye based on the briefest glimpse of a girl on a passing train. It resonated with me.
Many a year on the 20th of June I have wandered up to the old stones near my house. Maen Hirion. If I have spelled it wrong I am sorry. This is a circle of stones that has stood on the mountain one over from me for the best part of four millenia. I went there again and again hoping to see the sunrise on mid summers day. I witnessed plenty of grey mists and drizzle until four years ago I at last got lucky. After two decades of trying ( oh all right not every year but most) I finally saw the sun rise. Gold and glorious, it sailed in to the sky through broken cloud and lifted my spirits with it.
There were a few other people dotted around the circle with me. One was a dark haired girl who took my imagination and ran away with it. I went home and wrote as near as I could get to a poem. I defied the reputation of engineers and mathematicians, for I am such. I knocked off a poem which as well as celebrating the sunrise, told of how my heart was torn by the girl. Like you do. Over the next few months I tweaked and prodded the poem. I wound up very pleased with it. I don’t claim it was good but I liked it myself and that was enough. It had some of the haunted quality that I remembered from the Hesse and I was dead pleased that I could do that, albeit to myself.
So I’d like to run it up this flag pole for you all to pick over.
Trouble is I’ve lost the damn thing!
Every computer disc I own has been thoroughly searched.

......to be continued....

Right then where did I put me Glasto ticket?

14 comments:

headless chicken said...

How lovely..........You romantic old hippy you!!!:)

DaveM said...

Ah Herman Hesse, he was the one to read back in those days. Narcis and Goldmund remains one of my favourites. If you can't find your Glastonbury tickets now, you would have no chance of finding your tent once you're there.

Sally Lomax said...

Great build up. you have now got to spend the next 48 hours finding the poem or rewriting it if not. Maybe on Sudnay morning you can go back there, see sunrise again on the 24th June and it will all come flooding back to you....

You can't leave it there!

Fi said...

I am haunted by Under Milk Wood, currently enjoying renewed fame on a car advert. Spooky that you too should be haunted.
Love the idea of writing a poem about someone you don't know. Are you normal?
Fi

buffalodickdy said...

In the U.S. most of us are force fed poetry, and made to write some occasionally while in school. It was not deemed "macho" to like or write it, but in college I had an assignment(must do,big part of grade!) where I wrote some haiku and short poems. The instructor proclaimed them excellent and gave me a "C" because he believed me to be incapable of writing anything that sensitive, and must have had some one else do them! I sure wish I could find them now....

meredic said...

headless chicken – ‘romantic old hippy’ Oh thanks pal. She Of The Town House is going to want that on a t-shirt!

davem – Narcis and Goldmund, Oh thank goodness for that I am not the only romantic old hippy on the patch. Alas I have no ticket for this weekend, just trying to tease a colleague. I shall have to be satisfied (and expect to be) with sesiwn fawr for my drugs and rock and roll this year. And hope that She Of The Town House can make it this year as well of course.

sally – I am looking, unfortunately I am a great one for archiving stuff I haven’t used for a couple of years to CD and I haven’t a clue where I have left the damn thing. I may have sent a copy to others though so lets hope they read this and take pity on me.

fi – If you are going to be haunted by written work the Under Milk Wood is a pretty good choice. Normal…. Now there’s a question…

buffalodickdy – yes I fell victim to this whole ‘its unmanly to write thing’ for years. Its only now that I am able to enjoy writing just for its own sake. Mind you as you get older you don’t care a hoot for what other people think in the same way as a teenager trying to follow the crowd. How loathsome that someone should downgrade you for appearing too good. I hope you do find your stuff one day. Things have a funny way of turning up eventually.

Thank you all for dropping by and I recommend sesiwn fawr.
http://www.sesiwnfawr.co.uk/
( you will probably want to view it in English….)

Anonymous said...

Where is Maen Hirion?

Anonymous said...

Let's try again.......I seem to be suffering from premature publication...I'm sure I only pressed the "Anonymous" button, not the "Publish" button...

Where is Maen Hirion? Is it the one above Penmaenmawr and the Flint quarry, where you took those photos in the snow?
Also, would you care to elucidate further on your earlier obscure references to "The Village"? Remember; you are not a number. Be Seeing You.
Mike
Mike.

Anonymous said...

Definitely somethin wron with this keyboard...
Mike
Mike
Mike

Rosy said...

If it is missing you can never find it, and when you are not looking for that missing item some weeks or even months later, then you find it!

Pretty picture of the sunrise.

Sarah said...

Oooh, you're such a tease! I was so looking forward to reading the poem - keep looking (I hope you haven't thrown it out by accident in a whirlwind of decluttering)

meredic said...

mike - yes you are right, the stone circle above Penmaenmawr.
You know, if you use the 'other' button then you can be less anonymous if you wish.
I am glad its not just me that suffers from pushing the buttons to quickly.
She Of The Townhouse was spirited off to some place called the Tower Hotel for an induction to her new job. Her room looked out over the Thames and Tower Bridge. A few hundred yards away is the White Tower. One of the windows was bricked up (some time ago) after Gruffydd ap Llewelyn failed in an attempt to escape on a rope of knotted sheets. Looking out of his window he must have loked south towards Walworth.
I was struck by the coincidence of the location, name and view. Minus the mechanical bridge of course.

rosy - you are right of course. I shall stop looking and it will find me. The sunrise is from my front garden, I get to see the sun rise every day of the year ( when it doesn't rain of course) and for me it is always a special moment. I measure the progress of the year and seasons as it wanders up and down the far horizon.

sarah - I had of course intended to tease but I really can't find the blooming thing. I expect like all these things it will turn out to have been best not to look back. Sorry. If it does appear soon it will wind up here.

meredic said...

'romantic old hippy' indeed!

Theblonde said...

Surely it's better than just being called...an old git! 'Romantic old hippy' has the ring of potential thought and possible wisdom behind the 'old' bit, and a gentleness of character behind the 'romantic' bit and the 'hippy' bit means you've been around and done lots, so overall, quite a compliment really.