From the very far dark, deep and beating black,
there’s ghost breath, and blue light after,
where I un-broke myself,
next morning.
I’m under, curled to a pupil
of the bed’s eye,
so I blink the dream out.

Asleep, plants are respiring,
and the loam of their dream
is lifting, thinner.
Then the real interrupts,
erupting as a day,
and shimmering back again.
Like the shore that shares it’s time
between sand and ocean.

A fully open cup
fills up in the moment,
wherein that infinite shrinks,
and the universe grows backwards,
backwards Into,
cold coffee and dog ends.

Strange that.
It's not a nocturne,
It's an echoe of a day,
It's a memory of a memory,
It's a remora on reality.

Strange that.
why when last night,
my ashtray was full of stars.
The clock infinitely deepens
the memory of the dream.

But it’s there,
only just there.
That maybe, perhaps, dreaming of us,
somewhere in the brightest time of the night,
somewhere in sleep,
in the inbetween spaces,
somewhere there,
we left ourselves in mermaid’s purses.

A poem about dreaming.

"He did not know whether it was Chuang Chou dreaming that he was a butterfly, or whether it was the butterfly dreaming that it was Chuang Chou."
#dream   #sleep   #reality   #night   #mermaid   #birth   #purses  
spilling out of my purse and I
Aula Tullius Sulla
Aula Tullius Sulla
Sep 16, 2016

I've got flower petals
spilling out of my purse and I
cradle them like babies

Hiatus over!
#happy   #flowers   #babies   #petals   #purse  
a matching red purse
Rebecca McDade
Rebecca McDade
Mar 7, 2012

thinking thinking
never got better
thinking thinking
could have been worse
thinking thinking
a blue woolen sweater
thinking thinking
a matching red purse

a purse or a nurse
S Bonney
S Bonney
Sep 22, 2014

I gave up looking for love
several days ago
I rearranged my room
gave myself a different name
my heart's run away
now I need a place to lay
a purse or a nurse
these are what I crave
surely I can say
one after the other have come my way.

But I'm all done with that
a nurse or a purse is what I crave
take care of these
my final days.

empty black purse
Sep 27, 2014

empty black purse
old love notes
all wrinkled
now molding
damp and limp

boat trips and fancy dinners
airplanes and hangers
ocean views and hotels
princess treatment

promises made
one plastic ring
if taped

texted pictures
a portrait
a yacht
videos shared

two months
later invisible
me and my quite room
and an empty refrigerator

let go

empty black purse
wild goose chase
just a distraction
a fantasy

let go

with his blessing I have a purse full of pearls
Christos Andreas Kourtis

From the sea I bring you it's treasure's my love
the bounty I have is from Neptune's shallow domains
with his blessing I have a purse full of pearls

I will endeavour to find a merchant skilled
and he will make this adornment for me
proclaiming my undying love for you

I am your humble servant
with a purse full of pearls
to put around your slender neck

I have held all your letters to my heart
wishing year after year we would meet again
not just as lovers, but the best of friends

For I have travelled far and wide
with salt winds in my eyes
to give you a purse full of pearls

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

He carries her purse on his arm
marlene dunham
marlene dunham
Jul 21, 2010

He carries her purse on his arm
without awkwardness;
His comfort shows he must have been caretaker,
for some time.
Yet awkward she does feel.

He carries her purse on his arm
as if it belonged there.
Just another parcel to be handled
with care; yet not a care
to what this stranger thought.

This old woman hobbles
ambling behind;
a footfall - thrusts her forward,
one more step.
Doesn’t he understand she wants to go forward -
no more? One step closer
to the grave,
she can sense.

The cane catching
and holding her steady;
The pain, catching
and holding her firm.
She follows his lead; always hitting the mark
with her blue veined hand
wrapped around that staff
in her grasp.

Her gait, unsteady,
wobbly at best
As he carries her purse on his arm,
She follows his lead
one step at a time

A crooked cane
her only assist for the
ambulatory impairment she bears;
as he carries her purse
on his arm.

© 2010 Marlene Dunham

Since our paunchy purse will at their own beck
Folorunsho Obalugemo

It could Satan's cohorts cause, what portly
Political figures earn, to forsake his camp
And anon join the fray to the fat fiscal treasury
Of the country squander; and that to a cramp.
The pay plus pecks in a year they receive
Will most citizens in their lifetime never sniff.

So some who covet crazily such a mega-cheque
Also seek the same office for the easy favours.
Since our paunchy purse will at their own beck
And call be, they thus make elections endeavours
A  dagger thing;--that if they cannot God's gross
Gold get, they must anyhow have the devil's dross.

Becky Bergstol
Oct 11, 2010

quilted fabric
ensconds a wonderland
of capsule shaped escapes
to a comfortable haze

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