A winter night’s dream
warm sun and flowers
snows melt screaming
begging for one last day.
Bikes are slowly riding
beside windblown sands
boards ride upon the surf
tan bodies lay on towels.
Convertibles cruise on by
parking on the boardwalk
in a crazy, lazy warmth
of a cold night’s dream.
bad dream last night
standing at the gates of heaven
a screen said ‘welcome!’
‘please enter your password’
My throwaway
delinquent
pack of lies
go over, fly over
birds’ wings in a soulless
search,
into sudden dreams.
Through dim
swirl
of half-formed
dream
I was a vision
I saw a vision
of tomorrow’s
promise
of what I
would be
it was unexpected
may change
open to resistance
yet possible.
Last night I dreamed a story from the edge
a cluster headache of events that would not end
I sketched the outline tipping a memory jar
forgive and forget
the holy thing to do but I’m not holy
I’m flawed like you
seeking revenge through the depths of deep dreams
surrounded by a garden of Oleanders just for you
As I gaze through the glass of the snow globe.
My mind drifts off and I find myself there skating.
Through the snowflakes, and the bonfire’s glow
mugs of cocoa with tiny marshmallows waiting.
The vision of my girl, wearing her long red coat
with faux fur around the hood and white mittens,
knitted hat and long white scarf cover her throat
skating along the pond, her blond hair in ribbons.
Moving along with grace in my old black skates
I race along the pond, trying to catch up with her
finally getting close, I call out, then she hesitates
I fly on by, trip, land on my dignity, hitting with a blur.
I can hear her giggling with glee from behind me,
but I suddenly wake from my daydream visions
still standing there, globe in hand, I leave it be,
smiling, thankful for memories of love’s adoration.
More at https://arevenantpoet.wordpress.com/.
All the images and the sounds
of a long day of striving came
to an imminent head, waking
up no less than four times, burning
sour stomach, heart palpitating
image, all to be surrendered
for a more long-lasting peace,
remnants of political propaganda,
crossbow murder mysteries,
sad siren folk music.
More at https://jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.
The kind old doctor
shrunk me down in my
dreams, tenderly
placing me in the rocket,
whizzing me off
“To make the schedule work”
he said, so that I
disappeared in a spark.
We are dreaming
creatures, furiously dreaming,
assembling our desires
in deep sleep,
makes me wonder
sometimes how much
dreams influence our
waking lives.
Today I felt the wind in my bones, which shoved me to the earth where leaves fallen raised the alarm of another world. Tempestuous, hurly-burly wind, tornado of explicit statement. It disturbs equipoise and restores insanity in a poised world. Forgive this bellicosity, but the wind in my home is a real occurrence, the hills quake with fear. A gentle nudge and I am done. The night’s event is the wind choking dogs outside, and me buried deep deep in dreams which surface in a maelstrom of wishes.