Say the word, and I’ll enter your dream world.
Tell me you care whenever I am there.
You and me, surrounded by a sea of
Flower petals that float and elude our
Grasp as our lungs gasp bright dawn love’s last breath.
Wake, say hello as if we’ve never met.
Guide me back to slumber’s wish granting land.
My gaze on that pillow never the same
After knowing you for a lifetime in
One night's universe, now frozen between
The world my own mind knows is fantasy.
Wrapped in that warm cocoon of yesterday,
A new day has dawned without my eyes on
Song birds' wings flutter open, a goodbye.
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 8:39 AM UTC
I find myself pondering,
Way too often it seems,
About the state of the union,
And lots of other useless things.
Like unicorns and rainbows,
Fairies and dragon heart-strings,
Foreign cars; and the cost of gasoline.
Summer time and sunscreen,
I find myself questioning,
Much too often everything,
Nature and art, and beauty;
And lots of other useless things.
Sometimes when dreamers dream,
They think of fantastical things,
Like love and hot air balloons,
Or fish that can sing.
They lead us down pathways,
To nowhere at all,
To fantastical places,
To dreams within dreams.
Where I go when I wander,
Over bubbling brooks,
Past dragons and lemonade stands,
Way too often it seems,
That I meet fellow travellers
And we think we’re a team,
That the lands where we roam
Could be ours to own.
What silly imaginings!
What fanatical reveries!
Far from home we went,
And lots of other useless things.
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 8:35 AM UTC
Those leaves were once green
When once I looked out that tall window
Those branches will be bare soon
Frost may cover those nine window panes
Snow may be piled precariously,
Holding its breath to stay atop top branch.
Time passes slowly here, words pelting
A tired mind. But wind stirs again
Wind buffets fall’s leaves, forced suicide.
I do believe I may not recall the proper
Amount of time, neither in time before
Or in time after. But wind stirs again.
Leaves stand still now, only stragglers
No awareness of leaves above or below
Torn and ravaged, missing their once
Cheerful red friends. Wind buffeting
Their small limbs and fragile veins.
No hope for them. But wind stirs again.
Those three days of warmth seem imagined
Was I dreaming when one night’s dusk
Brought us forty and below while the
Next day’s dawn ushered in the seventies?
With ups and downs winter and spring life
Cycle's nonsensical meaning. Mind stirs again.
Jul 25, 2011
Jul 25, 2011 at 3:50 PM UTC