So Many Days... (Revision)

[Larsen M. Callirhoe]

.So many days…

 

 

So many days I looked into a cracked mirror.

It beheld a reflection of a lachrymose child.

So many nights I looked out the window only

to see the many distant shining stars up above

 

One night I dared the moon to speak words to

me! She radiated and sparkled like a bright gem.

My presence alone gave her peaceful happiness.

The milk glow of her body was divinity itself.

 

She said, "I also feel completely abandoned and

all alone." I realized that many nights we both do

lay awake crying aloud and praying to Eloah Sophia.

(She is Mother Goddess the Christian Holy Ghost.)

 

Words come to mind, people dancing in the park.

Broke my neck in a car wreck destined to die all

alone. My life questioned living shattered dreams.

Illusions of the flames burning my essence away.

 

In a dream I had a Angel visit me. She spoke words

to me revealing that I would walk on June 6, 2018.

Can I really be that patient long enough for this to

let destiny find a cure for spinal chord paralysis?

 

Will these imprudent doctors realize that people

cry many tears drifting in and out of many realities.

I want to walk again and dance on the clouds, too.

Why can't my dreams of compassion be fulfilled?

 

A shooting star passed by my home one day. I

wished I could hold your hand once again hoping

you would say I love you also Michael. These are

the only words I ever wanted you to speak to me.

 

Why do you always find it hard to say I love you?

Yet you said "I do" and married me one day. Was

it all just a lie being one of your many fantasies of

possible fabrications? Don't you know it still hurts.

 

All alone I sing a spiritual song I sang as a youth.

Now that I am all grown up the pain pills, booze, and

downers will give me the same solace that I felt back

then. My mind drifts as I wish you would hear my words.

 

In my mind I am a float along the river of my blood

hoping my plea to you would ring out to your heart.

Most of all I wanted children with you because you're

so beautiful. I wish my heart could be as patient, too.

 

So many nights I would yearn for you. I would whisper

the words to you asking you to marry me in your dreams.

I would always say to you how much I truly love you.

I wish I could dance with you under the soft moonlight.

 

We would have the mighty Angels sing serenading us.

So many days I would write poetry to you from the

chorus I heard from them. This would I hope spice up

my words in a way that touch your heart passionately.

 

Many years have passed as I wait for you to grow up

and mature blossoming into a fine young lady. One day

I bring you flowers to show you my affection for thee.

We make love under the moonlight as she sang to us.

 

So many nights I had prayed for the moment we shall

embrace as I drift off to never-never-land! I hope we

would never drift apart from that time forward. We

meet and I sing you a love song the words bitter sweet.

 

You dream of me as your Prince! I think of you as my

Queen. I love you this is my heart Elizabeth. What more

do you want from me? I worship the ground you walk upon

and the flesh on your body like you are eternally divine.

 

Even in your wisdom and age I still want to make love to

you. Can your heart take eternity with me my beloved rose?

 

 

----------------------------------------------------------

 

Lachrymose - means to tend to cry often out of control spats.

(word is proper in that place though it looses continuity.

 

Idioms +++++

 

I am in the process of editing all my poems I have written

since June 2000. I have written over 700 poems during

that time span & I noticed that half the lines in each poem

I wrote looked like pure utter garbage to me. I originally

didn't want to change or edit any of my poems. But then I

have noticed online some people who are really good at

writing verse. So it will take me a few months to edit my

poems. It will take me down memory lane of course. & I

will be putting a poetry book or two together. yippee.

[tonyv]

I'm glad to see you're tinkering with the old ones, Victor. It's part of being a poet. When you do assemble your book(s) -- I realize it may be a ways away -- don't forget to promote the compilation(s) in the Promotions forum.

 

Tony

[Larsen M. Callirhoe]

thank you so much for yourncomments and appreciate taking the time to read this.

 

 

 

vitor

[Larsen M. Callirhoe]

hey tony i forgot to mention something. a year or two ago i told you, tinker, and aleks that i will write new poems and moore than likely not tinker with my old ones. i went thru like 4 or 5 of them being serious about what to put in my book and laughed ut loud. i thank everyone for the kind responses thru the years but my stuff was half good and half trash. now i reakis no one wanrted to upset me for i meant well lol. i will keep the old versions and modify the poems till they look proper adding deleteing doing whatever willmake it a more peasaubile poem.

 

thankyou everyone for the comments over the years.

 

victor michael

[Larsen M. Callirhoe]

i've been reflecting and thinking about things in my life in general. i have slimmed stuff in several poems already. but 2 poems this being one turned out a lot longer lol. i could have added several more words in this one but a few more flowery words i realize might make a few stanzas sound a little better and more poetic, but knowing less is better in poetry i understand and realize sometimes neatness and stanzas being close to using the same amount of space in them sells poems also. so enjoy.

 

i like my poems when i write them and know also when i go over them a year later and the new ones i wrote i love and the old one i wrote in the past i think why did i post that garbage. i know i love what others wrote and post then they change it by modify a past poem i don't like it the new versions because i love original poswts unless it is grammar mistakes that are corrected.. but everyone likes it better after modifying their own poems. iguess we all feel this way and others have only the last copies of our poems after we die. anyone...

 

 

victor