Photo: Wikipedia
Labeled for non-commercial reuse.
Dream
Last night I dreamt of
feathers and shape-shifting.
Today a wren perches on a naked branch
outside my window.
By afternoon
the tree is in full bloom.
I miss you.
De Jackson is asking for Postcard Poems, that is, poems of 12 lines or less, at dVerse Poetics. Please join us.
Photo: ridingbareback.com (Pinterest)
bare back
in my dream I ride bare back on a white stallion
in frothy surf as it kisses sand, teases seahorses
there is freedom in the scent of salty air and sacred power
in aloneness of sandstone cliffs—protection from intrusion
the solstice sun leaps off the edge of ocean’s rim
leaving behind gold-washed clouds and gilded whitecaps
undulating muscles of the steed, undulating roll of waves,
the crash of breakers on the shore enclose blissful somnolence
too bad it’s but a dream too bad aloneness gives way
to loneliness and darkness overtakes the earth
too bad the horse is but a chimera
that gallops into the void
Photo: jumpingpercheron.com
Linked to dVerse Open Link Night where you can write about anything you like. The Pub opens at 3:00 PM EDT and I will be your hostess, serving up poetry and mojitos to combat the heat.
Photo: greenhornphotos.com
Citrus trees are coming into bloom
swathing us with fragrance—
visions of a California childhood,
of dreams once dreamt.
Visions of those seeds,
dormant now on desert sands,
longing to be borne anew
upon the breath of Santa Ana winds.
I wish I had smell-o-vision for the photo! I’m linking this to dVerse Open Link Night where poetry flows, begging to be read. Hope you will stop by. The doors open Tuesday, 1500 EST.
Ladders new & ancient at Tsankawi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
On Achieving Spiritual Exile
In the background, golfers prowl the green at the Olympic Club,
stroke small white balls towards an elusive hole.
Vistas of San Francisco splay across the 48” screen
where talking heads move lips, spew words I cannot hear (Muted!)
From time-to-time
I see an image
flashing in
my memory.
Early morning: scents of Tide and Bounce,
the churning, sloshing washer, and the touch of soft linen,
yield to the undulating voice of a professor
blathering theories of historical authenticity—
sounds emanating from my Bose, (a Teaching Company CD.)
From time-to-time
the image flashes
on the screen
of my imagination.
The girl-dog followed me into the garage
when I toted a bag of garbage and an empty cardboard box.
I closed the door, entombing her inside that darkness
and wondered why the boy-dog barked.
It took a while before I noticed she was missing.
From time-to-time
I sense the presence,
a hand that stretches
out to my unknowing.
I walk the dogs before the heat of noon.
My cell phone rides in the back pocket of my jeans,
the Blue Tooth in my ear.
Necessary calls completed, leaving my hands free
for picking up their excrement.
(Forgot to check the level of the Truckee and the oriole nest).
From time-to-time
I tell myself
to think about
that image.
Dishwasher beeping end of cycle,
turn up the volume, Tiger’s teeing off,
fold the clothes and make the bed,
don’t have the time to think
about that dream.
The ladder propped against the loft
(too high, too full of danger).
Strong hand that reaches down to me,
(familiar guide from long ago)
It’s safer here, well-trenched within the land of doing.
Find comfort in the work.
Security eschews change.
From time-to-time
an image
interferes.
Posted in response to Manicddaily’s prompt at dVerse Poetics where we’re asked to write about EXILE. You will want to read this wonderful post, learn a bit about James Joyce and visit the work of some other exiled poets! I took my poem in the direction of spiritual exile…there are times when we receive gifts we just don’t want to look at!
In my dream
swollen waves
surge upon the sand,
mount craggy cliffs,
swamp the earth.
Today I look
upon a mirror of
still water.
Beneath the surface
roil sleeping monsters.
Submitted to dVerse Poets’ Pub for Open Link Night. The poem is also a response to Friday’s Poetics…I was late linking up. Thanks to Sheila Moore for the prompt on Water. http://dVersePoets.com
Image via Wikipedia
For today’s prompt, let’s try writing a poem or flash fiction (500 words or less) using symbolism from a dream. Try a first person account from the point of view of the dreamer, write a piece based on one of your own dreams or pluck something from your imagination. If you prefer, you can choose an “awake” symbol, such as an animal totem.
Be aware that symbols mean different things for different people. For example, in my mindset a dog represents loyalty, friendship and fidelity. In the dream book I use, the author has it as aggression. Use whatever rings true for you.
Here’s just one of many resources that speaks to dream symbolism: http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/
I have an idea milling around in my head that I hope to post later in the week.
Image by nhanusek via Flickr
Textures
About five-thirty
the morning of Friday before
day-light-saving-time,
light spills through blinds,
pools into discrete
silver puddles
at the foot of my bed.
Through the half-moon window
near the ceiling,
swatches of gray satin
unfurl across the sky.
Tears in the fabric
allow slices of blue to
peek through,
toss hope in my face.
In that shadowy space between
asleep and awake
ideas pelt my brain
so I can’t escape back into
my dream about the circus
where I rode barefoot,
standing on the rough coat
of a white mare.
I slip into awareness.
Cold smooth wood
greets my feet as I stand
and yawn.
My dog
shakes her silky fur, glares at
me for interrupting her dreams.
We stretch, enter the day,
touch life.
This is my response to the writing prompt I posted on Monday at: https://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/03/14/monday-morning-writing-prompt-daylight-savings-time/
Image via Wikipedia
Submitted to Poetry Potluck: http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/ This week’s theme is Cartoons, Sci-Fi and Superpowers.
Quantum Leap
I dreamt
I flew among the stars
skirted between planets
cracked open doors
to distant worlds.
I dreamt
I plunged into the deep
touched ocean floors
sifted through sand
for hidden treasure.
I dreamt
I tunneled to earth’s core
midst roiling, writhing magma
set free the Watchers* waiting
for redemption.
I woke
I drifted toward the sun
and grasped a ray
to turn back time
into my dreams.
*Watchers: From Biblical Apocrypha:
In the Book of Enoch, the watchers are angels dispatched to Earth to watch over the humans.
They soon begin to lust for human women, and at the prodding of their leader Samyaza, they defect en masse to illicitly instruct and procreate among humanity. The offspring of these unions are the Nephilim, savage giants who pillage the earth and endanger humanity. Samyaza and associates further taught their human charges arts and technologies such as weaponry, cosmetics, mirrors, sorcery, and other techniques that would otherwise be discovered gradually over time by humans, not foisted upon them all at once. The Greek myth of Prometheus revealing fire-making to humans without Zeus’s permission is likely a variant of the same ancient legend, and it is possible also that ancient legends among many cultures about cannibalistic giants and pervasive implementation of magical powers (such as in the tale Jack and the Beanstalk) arise from the same ancient mythology that came to inspire the Books of Enoch. Eventually God allows a Great Flood to rid the earth of the Nephilim, but first sends Uriel to warn Noah so as not to eradicate the human race. While Genesis says that the Nephilim remained “on the earth” even after the Great Flood, Jude says that the Watchers themselves are bound “in the valleys of the Earth” until Judgment Day. (Excerpt from Wikipedia)
Image via Wikipedia
Submitted to a River of Stones: http://ariverofstones.blogspot.com/
Connection
Last night I dreamt
I walked across the Ganges.
A friend had built a path
of stones for me.
Today I traverse
continents and cultures
stepping on
virtual boulders.
How small the world
has become.
Image by Bandelier National Monument via Flickr
Submitted to Jingle’s Poetry Potluck. Today’s theme is Dreams, Visions. Check out some wonderful seasoned and upcoming poets at http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/
Dream
Last night I dreamt of
feathers and shape-shifting.
Today a wren perches on a naked branch
outside my window.
By afternoon
the tree is in full bloom.
Victoria C. Slotto, Author 