Call it whatever!

I had made the last post twice in the hope that you may see it. I even highlighted the gray areas, took the pain, yet you didn't get it still, obviously. Alas the wonder of it.

Here is what you got wrong. None of the comments I made suggested that the poet-persona had a girlfriend before, during, or even after the poem was written. None even said the one to whom the poem was addressed was a girlfriend. The word *girlfriend* much less the implication of more than one of them was not even suggested anywhere in the present which the poem tried to portray. You brought it in. That was why I said you contradicted yourself when you brought it up, saying that:


Since you were the same person who said, in the same post thus:



Look again dear. I have highlighted the contradictions so you can see. There's nowhere in my post where I have said anything capable of corroborating that claim. But don't take my word for it, ask anyone else to read up the thread and offer some words of explanation. You never know with these things. But, really, when exactly did I say that I had another girlfriend, and that she should read that fact between the lines? No you didn't hear that from me. What I said was that the poem was a personal narrative of a situation. And it was addressed to a personality who on receiving it was able to read the meaning of the poem correctly. I knew this. Don't ask me how.

Now to you, when I say "read between the lines", I don't mean that you should take the liberty to deliberately invent/insert events not expressed within the confines of the poem. That would be reading *outside* the lines. I said read *between*. If you invent another fact *outside* the poem, then you divert from the discussion of the poem, and you should do that on another thread.

If you think that artists are generally bad lovers, then make a scientific survey, asking questions from victims of their *bad* love, and create a graph. Individual cases are at best presumptious. That's why I said it's not mine to refute, notwithstanding what anyone says on the internet.

So in all your three questions, only one now seemed non-redundant - the first one - and I  intend to answer it in another breath since you appear sufficiently curious. But first, let's allow you to get this one in first. Apparently there're much more angles to this poem still to explore.

Now a question for you. When one of two people (more or less) in love/besotted with (aspects of) each other decides to present his partner with such a poem as Valentine Fantasy on Valentine's day in which he honestly/correctly/frankly assesses their predicament while making no hasty presumptions whatsoever, what is wrong with it?

You do NOT know who this poem was written for. And you may never know it.

What I meant to say of course was that the poem was written for someone you DO NOT know.

She is still my friend. We are still very much in touch. We still value and fancy each other's trust and friendship like we did then in 2001, and we still respect each other although like the poem forcasted, each of us have moved on. Like her, I still keep in mind the pain of a deeper relationship that could have been, but was not because of certain imperatives.

With this I have answered your last non-redundant question. The others have been answered in more or less detail in my earlier posts.

Finito(?)

Now, it seems to be a tetragon and not a triangle ---  or, maybe, two triangels instead? 

But it's pointless. Your midnight rant shows me that you are still stuck at the same place. I had hopped that you would have journeyed by now. On the other hand, why should I care? You are there; I am here. And that will probably never change ---

   Actions speak louder than words.

   Admit, I surely haven’t asked for much,
   no more than a journey - you laugh?
   not even to somewhere far or strange,
   just home, it’s within your range.


"The elevator to success is out of order. You'll have to use the stairs,  one step at a time. " Joe Girard

mhh, good work in here

For Y.

There's more to the singing bird than just a guilded cage.
and odes than ring the night, throaty, as with stifled rage.
My bard calls with flapping wings, squawky as it pecks the mist
of a past less benign - but what exactly have we missed?.

My noise will still frisk the night even when you rest, reclined.
Home will call, with my thoughts for you only the more refined.

"Tu m'aime un peu, beaucoup, passionnément, à la folie ou pas du tout?"

And how much more time - how many years again - do you need to make up your mind? Time does not tell anything by the way. It's just you and me and at the moment it is you and me on two different continents! Time is endless, my life is not.

Can I get a translation for this? 
Oh, and for the rhyme: Why don't you take a piss?

No, why did he pretend?
Is this the end?

great lyrics

I walked right bye
I watched them talk
Lofty words, and my my my!
The lad and las full as bold
Told the world that they could talk!

Words with meaning, some without
I stood I stared, lost in doubt
She won he lost, but up came he
Quiet, I thought, she better be

I walk on now, I might be back
To see who wins and who lay down
t'was much fun to watch them talk
Might be back, I walk on now.

Aye aye! I heard you
I do think lov's just a game
Something serious done by two
A cool lad and a fine dame

A game-- like a game of chess
Though differs in anatomy
The less pieces, lesser the mess
Both take time and scrutiny

Lov's a beauty when both know the rules
They play knowing it's just a game
Not for the win or for the lose
But with time to heights attain

But then when they two miss the point
Amiss they play and fingers point
There goes love, its hardest fall
There goes baby buff craddle and all

How do you say
Love's not a game
but still talk compromise?

did you intend a picture
Which the game is compromised
That both win so none lose?