Callings Of A Wanting Heart Poem by kamryn chew

There comes a point in a girls life where she needs something more. Having reached this point in my life, I have become antsy. My heart longs for the amazing. The amazing love. The amazing night with that one perfect person. The person who I know is flawed, but the person that I love anyway. My heart needs a warm summer night in the grass watching the stars in the sky. I yearn for a cool breeze in my hair, a sweet kiss on the cheek. Living in the desert you don't really expect these things, but my hope never dies. I want a boat that is candle lit and a sweet song playing in the background. This life I am leading seems to go no where and all along all I have ever wanted is these things I write to you now.

And that also. Writing, I mean. The passion of my life. The ideas that swim in my head, filled to the brim with the romantic things that most would consider foolish. I dream of past times, kings and queens, being the girl who falls in love with the perfect man. A tragic forever. Anything that makes my heart swell is something that I feel I need. So many things, but such little things that bother me until I feel antsy. My head swims with thoughts of these things. Things that I have wanted since I was a little girl. Maybe I have read one too many love stories. Maybe these thoughts are there for my future books. I would like to think that things are the way I imagine them to be. But I know otherwise.

I believe sometimes I am the only one who thinks this way and that I am born in the wrong generation. Although I have a feeling that no matter when I could have been born my ideas will always haunt me. Always left wanting. Always thinking of how wonderful my life would be if I was someone else. Someone who could have all these things. So, so many things. All non material things though. I was never one for the material. Most writers aren't. but I especially am not materialistic. I long for true love.. For a night in shining amour. As silly as that seems I long more and more for that exact thing. More and more for a sweet summer night, a sweet song and a look of love deep in his eyes.

And then I ask myself why I am writing all this, because no one will ever read it. But something about writing has always helped me to calm my nerves. And now days I need that more and more. The antsy-ness is at the brim. John Keats once wrote about being afraid he would never trace the Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance with the magic hand of chance. And more than ever I am feeling the same. Although he was dying, and the reason for his fear was more real, my heart feels as though he was writing my emotions. So many things run through my mind that I fear this will become random and incomprehensible. I want my head to swim with happiness, I want my heart to burst with joy. The kind of joy that I have not possessed for quite a while now. As books take me to these places that I long to be, I feel good for a short while. But then reality hits and I am back in this lonely world.

And this letter would make you believe that I am depressed. While sometimes I feel that I am, I am much too happy of a person to be depressed. I smile and laugh more than most. And it is real. But there is the me that wants something more than what I have been given. I want these things that a man could give me if a man could think of such things. And what man would that be? I have no clue. The gap becomes larger and I'm beginning to fall into it. But my hopes are still high, that is something that will not change. And a weird thought pops into my head. How I miss high school. I miss my senior English class. I miss Mrs. Beasley's class too. The classes that I learned in. The classes that kept me going. The poems in English that made me think hard and made me dream even harder. What I wouldn't do to be lost in a story land like the one in the books and poems.

Could anyone ever comprehend what is in my heart and mind? Is there really a man out there who would be able to understand my heart? Who would love me for the depth and ideas that I have. Are they not too radical? Not to me, but who these days would actually find them interesting? If I met someone who could, my heart would be forever theirs. I have the longing to stroll the beach, to kiss as the waves run over my feet and above the sun sets in the sky. Also to lie on a blanket. Such simple things to dream of, really. But the simple things that I have begun to doubt.

I wish that I would not doubt. I wish that I was in a play where all was well in the end. That this is just the first act. How immature us that? So.. Childish.. I guess. But I remember as a child the feelings of completion were always present. Having nearly nothing never phased me or my family. We were happy. What I would do to have those days back. I talked about some of it today. Some of the sacred things that I have kept for the times when I need a place to go. I told Amanda about some of them. I told her about the summers. There is so much more, so many more memories that I would love to have again. So many memories run through my head even now as I write this. I once read a poem called Tinturn Abby. A man talks about a place he loved as a child. Those memories are my Tinturn Abby. So maybe being childish is the key. Maybe its not such a bad thing. I am quite childish. But serious and womanly also, when the time is right. I guess that is a good way to be.

It seems there is always a let down. Another last night. Although it almost came through, but still the lack of what I really feel I need. Things are changing and I feel it. I am unsure what the outcome will be and it scares me a little. But I am strong and I know whatever happens was meant to happen. The magic hand of chance. Am I tracing the shadows? I think not. At least not in the way that Keats spoke of. A smart man. What I would do to sit and have a chat with him. Kindred spirits, I guess you could say. My mind wanders back to those days in school when we would sit in that school room and discuss the meanings of poems. Such simple days it seems, but the quiet before the storm. Such a peaceful time. My heart was content. I long for those days again. I need some good old fashioned poetry and essay writing. Ha what a loser I am. But I enjoy it, so I don't really care.

Maria's husband passed. Its really such a tragedy. He was young, and it hit me hard even though I've never met him. To think that someone that close could pass. JJ left for Iraq. That terrifies me, though I don't show it as much as I feel it. Zack leaves in a few months. They are both only boys. Neither are old enough to go fight a war. It is a horrible feeling that runs through my body when I think of all this. It brings me down even more. Such innocence, to be tainted by war. The romance is there, in the death. Maybe that is why it hit me so hard. Always a sucker for a love story, even if it is a tragic one.

I just realized how much I love to write. I have always known, of course. But it has been a long time since I have really spilled my heart into words. A kind of limbo, that is what I have come to think of the state I am in. I just want to write. Is it so difficult? I want to share with the world the romance in my heart. The passion for reading and writing that I have should be shared with all. But I hold back, because I worry that my passion is too strong. If passion is all I have? What of talent? Certainly you need talent to write. What If the talent I feel I have is only there because of the passion in my heart? Could they be the same? I have never written this fear before.

Some things, I feel, are too 'out there ' to share with the general public. They are just the musings of a passionate heart and a wandering mind. I thought maybe I had found someone with the depth to comprehend what I feel, but not even close. Last night showed me how wrong I was. It was simple really what I wanted. Not a big deal. And free! But he crushed it like it was nothing. Oh sure, he didn't mean to. But his actions showed me that he really didn't care. And another one bites the dust.

Another passion of mine. Music. Its most likely the romance that it creates that makes me love it so much. But oh how I love it. And all kinds. Not just one genera. I'm not close minded. Each type of music has its own bit of romance and I catch it from each. Moondance would have to be my favorite though. The romance in every Van Morrison song makes my heart soar. But Moondance is the ultimate. It is what I crave. I have not met anyone with the love for that song that I have. No one feels it like I do. I wish I could find someone with the love for it that I possess. Maybe then I will have found my one and only. Over a song.. Seems silly right? Maybe it is. But once again I don't care.

That song is the one that makes my heart leap. And I think I shall need it until the right man comes along. Lord knows I need that song. I feel it in my heart. Makes me want to do exactly that.. Moondance. A moondance. Worth a thousand words. I'd have to say Van Morrison is a poet, in his own way. The stories his songs tell of Gypsies and the things that are exotic in my mind, I guess. The things that are different. I'm such a junkie for that kind of stuff. For culture. Ha and out comes the geek once more.