not a poem, per se

I debated as to where I ought to place this comment. It is in regards to prose anyhow, and not actually a poem itself, but I was thinking about how many similarities there are between my favorite stories, which makes me think about a scene in a movie "Anonymous" where Edward Devere invents the character of Shakespeare to try to get the attention of Elizabeth. Hahaha, even now, I am working out how that movie is a trope with a trope hinting itself at the archetype that started my thought in the first place.

Many times I think of how the sword in "Barnstoke" (I have never seen it in print so it has been spelled out phonetically) I assume even the worn Barn or Börn finds origin in a celtic source, but I digress... that sword reminds me of the Authurian legend. So much of Volsung is found similarly in Tristan....and that made me think that maybe they were both catchy tales to remember the same facts, the facts that I would like to revisit, or understand, but I do not yet speak the language. Oh, man. Now, I am laughing because of the funny video where someone sees someone speaking in sign language and tries to impress by communicating with them...the try hard attempts to spell out "a-r-e y-o-u d-e-a..." they spell dead when they mean deaf.... much as I used photoshop to change a sign for a meme that say "Caution: dead children at play".

seven years

 this post is more of a place marker because i lost the original poem, but was thinking about it this evening as i thought about how much i miss my old self, and i wondered if i will ever be who i was. i recall two things. the first is the notion that when we are ressurrected nothing will be lacking, i recall a scene from a movie, 17 miracles maybe, or ephraim's rescue. either way it was about a crippled disabled person on the verge of death an excitedly explaining that he will finally get to have a fine body, maybe skewed to please our modern appetites for strngth and beauty, but interesting to compare what i accomplished and could do versus who i have become and will likely live longer is such an inferior state. i used to look forward to ressurrection to be able to run and sing and play the piano like i did, but it seems like those things are mattering less and less the longer i live without them. and i feel a bit sad at the loss of who i was. ok, the second thing was a scene from the movie 'tess' based on the book 'tess of the d'ubervilles' sorry my shift key does not work. ok, in this movie tess is crying about how life was so ruined, if she had only fallen in love with claire the love of her life the first time that they happened to meet when she was a carefree teenager, before life had dealt her so many miserable situations, and he stopped her right there and explains that it was that life that molded her into such a beautiful being, and she needed to recognize it. so, maybe it was all for my good, which segues into my song, i had written it for jacob to sing to rachel after he rrealized how he had been fooled into marrying her sister afterworking 7 years for rachel, the her father extended the deal 7 more years for rachel. the song is one where jacob professes his true love for rachel and that no matter the cost he will pay it for 'what's seven years to forever if forever i lived without you.' ya da ya da.... all my favorite love stories were about jacob abd issac, and so i wrote a musical/oratorio about them. and i just wanted to recall having done that, because i seem un able to do such a thing now, although, even at the time, i felt bad because it was so effortless, i sort of felt like david when someone tried to give him an anima to sacrifice, he denied it because he would not offer something to his g-d that he had not worked for. maybe i have beenn blessed with the opportunity to work for such talent, cause it is not something that just comes to me.... great now, i am pontificating about beethoven. he couldn't hear, but it didn't stop him.

i often claim that time doesn't actually exist, if so, then i am who i was because i always simply am, not will be.....soooo, i repeat what is 7 years anyway, or even seven plus seven, when compared to eternity.

poetic prose anyone?

I can only imagine the comprehension, or the loneliness, but even alone you would never be alone, right? Still, I imagine the hardest part would knowing and not being able to interfere... but what a sense of justice would develop until at last you would not share conceptions with anyone.

Maybe being loved by one who alone understands would be sort of homey or comfortable, but still as lonely as I imagined in the first place.

OK, here it is! The life is almost full, but it always comes down to the last moment, even if she is the one will you have the power to watch her choose incorrectly? It might be easier to make others choose the right, but then they didn't actually choose.

It boils down to believing regardless what knows.

Warning: This is no poem

 This is my comment on Volsungic poetry as well as other sagas or stories. They are much like Bibilical stories memorized less importantly for rhetoric or plot as for truths contained. I came to this realization as I listened to the Sagas of the Volsungs and noticed similarities to other Welsh and English tales that had some deeper truth that Disney even took over as a passer-on of such truths like a sword in a stone. 

I will give an example so not to appear so enigmatic.

I was listeninging to a story about a sword being buried in a tree, and thought it was very similar to the way I would tell my children something that I wanted them to remember, only it would have been a song then. Still, the tree was a family, and the sword was a weapon or tool.. ok, see it yet? If not, tis probably was never intended to be read by you, instead you will just pass on a neat little story which may or may not be ever understood, much like hose who tried to remove the sword... I am want to include a video clip if I can find it: Still loading... It say it all, and is from the movie entitled "The Illusionist" Where the magic trick is that an heir will not inherit his throne unless he can take a resheath his sword.... Ah hah! Got it!

Illusionist - sword scene - YouTube

Impromptu

I would like another chance
To tell you what I think.
I know my feelings scare you so,
I wish they wouldn't tho.

To think a monster lurks underneath a bed
Makes more sense than thinking you exist only in my head.

When reality falls away

Ok. I do not project in any way.

But, if I could I think I should like
To not really do any of the things I
Refuse even in my dreams.

So what part of me
still wants a thing it rejects?

I unraveled a riddle that
A vertical sun sang to a cloudy sky.
Why you don't want me
is the answer to everything you need.

This is a reminder

I do not want to forget, although I have not yet done it. I need to write a poem about being a bookmark, or how unrealized intentions are always greater expectations than what we have.