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    Words Fail: Confessions of an Incurable Romantic
    Words Fail: Confessions of an Incurable Romantic
    Words Fail: Confessions of an Incurable Romantic
    Ebook125 pages35 minutes

    Words Fail: Confessions of an Incurable Romantic

    By Clyde B Northrup

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    About this ebook

    A collection of original poems concerning matters of the heart, and the relationships between a man and a woman.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClyde B Northrup
    Release dateJun 30, 2012
    ISBN9781476131832
    Words Fail: Confessions of an Incurable Romantic
    Author

    Clyde B Northrup

    Who am I?–a question I often ask myself, without ever coming up with a satisfactory answer: am I just a husband, father, professor, scholar, writer, poet, or some combination that changes from moment to moment, depending on the day, and time of day. . . . Nah, not really–but it is an intriguing way to begin–kind of mysterious and tormented, with a hint of instability that promotes empathy in the reader, and lets all of you know that I am a professor of English, down to my bones, and I cannot help but play around with language. My areas of specialty are 19th-20th century British Literature, the novel, Tolkien & fantasy; my dissertation was on Tolkien’s 1939 lecture “On Fairy-stories” in which he created a framework, as I discovered, for the epic fantasy that I used to critique several modern/contemporary works of fantasy, including Tolkien’s. I have taught at the university level for 14 years. My wife, of 30+ years, is an elementary school teacher.As a poet, I am much like Wordsworth, while as a novelist, I am more like his pal Coleridge, both of which illustrate the influence of my education and areas of expertise. My poems are predominantly narrative in nature, reflecting, no doubt, the overwhelming impulse to tell a story, using the compact, compressed form of the poem to narrate significant moments in the daily life of the poet. As a novelist, my biggest influence is Tolkien, flowing out of my study of his ideas for what he called a “fairy-story” for adults, what we term epic fantasy.

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      Book preview

      Words Fail - Clyde B Northrup

      Words Fail

      Words cannot express my feelings

      for words fail to

      plumb

      the depths fail to

      climb

      the heights fail to

      walk

      the breadth

      fail.

      To say feelings are longest

      length–too short widest

      width–too narrow highest

      height–too low deepest

      depth–too shallow.

      For feelings are like the electron

      engineer would measure which

      escapes

      before it can be

      measured.

      The word we use–love–elusive

      electron. Try to hold it, we

      lose it, let it go

      it remains. Love

      carries

      much baggage–most words do–

      leftover meanings

      showing

      those who tried before as much

      at loss as we. Greeks, philosophers, authors

      of thought, logic, reason

      divided

      love three ways

      failed

      effort to describe. Linguists

      argue

      love carries roots–endearment

      caring esteem trust

      permission desire–but those words

      imply

      lack restriction mistrust

      abhorrence apathy

      dislike hatred

      failing

      to resolve inherent

      contradictions carried within words

      themselves.

      Poets have expended oceans

      of ink continents

      of trees trying

      to describe the indescribable

      Barett-Browning counted

      ways she loved

      Robert–to ultimate distance her soul

      could travel but traveler who

      reaches

      end of his journey

      looks

      up to see more

      distance climber who

      reaches

      summit looks

      up to see stars

      unclimbed

      astronomer builds bigger

      telescope looking farther into

      space sees not

      edge but more space

      revises

      calculations plans bigger

      telescope to see farther. . . .

      I am all these

      striving

      to express what cannot be

      read or heard only

      felt

      feelings move from man

      to woman more poorly

      than languages

      translate–

      meanings lost ideas

      obscured.

      No matter how tall I

      build

      how high I

      climb

      how deep I

      swim

      how fast I

      go–

      faster than time

      itself--no matter what new

      wonders my mind

      conceives

      my hands

      create,

      I am left a man

      standing in vacant

      plain hands

      empty eyes

      wet mouth

      dry voice

      silent heart

      bursting

      with inexpressible

      feelings facing a woman only

      light in darkness my

      greatest & only joy deepest

      suffering trying to

      express

      what can only be

      felt

      my love–

      carrying generations

      of unresolved contradiction–for

      her.

      Unhealthy Inhibitions

      Why do you push me

      away when you

      want

      me as much

      probably more than I

      want

      you? Why do you

      pretend

      not to understand

      my subtle hints

      squander

      opportunities look for

      other things to do

      create

      excuses not to do

      what you desire what

      I desire what we

      desire

      wasting time putting off

      choice

      to create artificial

      dilemma

      between your duty & your

      desire

      blaming me for

      forcing

      you to choose

      knowing you will choose

      duty

      and be justified because

      ‘good girls never choose

      wicked desire

      over righteous duty?’

      Why do I have to

      sneak

      past dozens of defenses

      trick

      hundreds of guards

      each & every time

      come up with thousands

      of new ideas all

      to help you

      enjoy

      yourself & if all

      defenses are successfully

      breached

      you must still

      scratch & claw

      your way to the conclusion

      double-edged sword that

      cuts

      both ways?

      Why then do you

      suffer

      such guilt & remorse

      for having enjoyed yourself

      as if you

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