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Tess Of The D’Urbervilles… one of the best novels I have ever read. Iloved the character so much it literally changed my attitude towardswoman when I was 18 years old. Last year I decided to write a long poemabout this character. And the events that followed were bizzare. Wellwhen you read this poem you will understand, why I did not finished thelong, long poem.
   This day 08/17/06 I thought a lot about those days inwhich I wrote a part which took me into a downward spiral…. and latergetting out of it all I realized. I am a better poet, and a better man.Because… if it were anyone else… the way he/she would have dealtwith it might be more dangerously. I also realized… a fact that, inpoetry I should be more realistic than imaginary. I closed the book anddecided to publish them all and start writing about more realistic andsimple subjects… thus I started writing “Yesterdays”. My  lifeis complicated in many ways. Simple things for others will become verycomplicated for me and many other unbelievable things for the rest ofthe world will come and knock at me. Haha.. read the poem of08/17/06…
   As for Tess I will write and finish what I started… youwill see in the coming days… but Yesterdays will continue as is.


Everyray of sunlight upon me fell,

Left a note in my mind for me to think,

A morning born far away in the East,

East of who I understand not,

What in my mind I understand is,

That everything before I slept last night was a myth,

To live I tried, to succeed I tried, failed I did, survive I will.

By the glory of the morn I sworn,

To leave every thought of a passion behind,

Oh’ guilty I was, myself I punished, Oh’ pure are my thoughts,

Now waking up into a morn with thoughts,

Thoughts about heart in patience listened.

This day is for her, I declared,

And all about her I wrote I dug up,

Read and Read again and I laughed,

Not at her, not me but at a poet,

Who about the reality never realized,

A lot different than all the poetic scenes in mind he see.

To my work and at my work all I thought was,

About lines of verse I once wrote,

And in my own mind I burned,

And wished a poet I never became,

Then to my conscience I said,

“The one, the only one who deserve to view,

Will view those lines of verse none else seen,

Which I wish I myself never written”.

Oh’ those lines simple it may look,

But the inappropriate they brought,

Oh’ unthinkable they were,

And about what happened in those days,

To my own mind I once more told,

Then in these lines, the essence of it all I wrote.

Oh’ with a blessing unheard to me she came,

True talent, with the beauty of a flower bud,

She became the reality of a character I read,

Tess of the d’urbervilles, Hardy’s character

Whom, with love and respect I looked,

The best of all feelings to any woman I ever felt,

Were to this character fictitious,

In my try about Tess’s character to write,

Chose I the little beauty as a model for my write,

In my juggling with my emotions to write my verse,

All the respect, love and feeling I felt,

For the character fell upon the model I took,

Then to get her out of my mind I wrote,

Verse after verse, that perplexed many,

But patiently read by the model beauty,

Oh’ wonderful girl she is,

And all my blessing upon her fell,

But from my mind all those feelings inappropriate,

I erased one by one, through scenes hypothetical I wrote,

Through writing my emotions and feelings messed,

Through writing my emotions and feelings straightened.

As no reality ever existed in the fairy tale a poet tried to weave.

Once more the ugly reality I faced,

A mind and soul by imaginations ruled,

The evening peeled upon the horizon and fell pray,

To darkness that spread like a broken dam,

And when to the darkness my mind succumb,

Typed I these lines,

Oh’ wonderful girl to whom ever apologetic I am,

Every time in my imaginations I see your image,

Those rays of light that to me brings your image,

Oh’ I always see them in fight,

To spread the glory of your beauty,

Of mind and soul the beauty by other poets unseen,

But as a poet yourself have seen,

And those rays that won and those who lost,

They both to my soul whispered,

The softness of your skin they touched,

The clarity of a mind they known,

And the sanctity of the soul from where they were born,

The best of all verse I wrote,

Are from those whispers I heard and images seen.

Darkness tore my heart and soul and to sleep thrown,

Like rotten bread to stray scavengers,

Oh’ some where a glow still remained,

Consumed by life, a glow that will remain lit ever after,

And may show light, sometime when darkness alone I face.

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