I am not naive
I know how far
the stars are
away from me
wanting to see
I reach and beseech
to know
to love
to grow
to touch them
and hope I won't get burned
you think I would have learned
deprived of judgment
and reason
put out my singed wings,
cuz a silent voice can't sing
still scorching hot
white light,
I wonder not
I just couldn't fight
or save my sight
burning my retinas
with no surprise
I've taken flight
I cover up my eyes
with Rose Colored Glasses
taking off into the darkness
sightless, feeling empty
delving deeper
into the light
the night,
I follow you
everywhere ...
                     you
                            are.

      

Cherie Nolan © 2016

I am not afraid of the storm.
Or of the wildness of the winds.

I am not afraid of the darkness.
Even my nightmares
Have little power to frighten
Any more.

I am not afraid to die.
There is very little mystery left.

what is left?
You may be wondering

that may be a conversation
For another day

Time keeps on ticking
regardless of cost
taking all with it
seems all is  lost

Written down words
bleeding through pages
gentle reminders
from imparting sages

Keep at the task
let the ink flow
stop keeping track
let everything go

Sighting a muse
is easy to do
just look inside
you'll find her
... in you.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Close my eyes
sleeping
lost amid
drifting  sand
I see a hand
can't understand
time softly
whispering in silence
from the far side of the moon
a gated tunnel
beckoning
I am haunted,
I am wanted
a ghostly shadow
peering in,
glowing skin
so I,
dream of you

I dream of you

I dream of you
.... again.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Images extracted from
the tapestry of my dreams.
Sewn intricate...
Into a patchwork.

A quilt,
embroidered with lavish sequins and ornate beads.
Bringing forth fantastical motifs...
A dazzling display
upon the backdrop of my dreamscape.

Yet...
This mosaic of dreams
does not warm me so.
It never lasts.

They fall away like autumn leaves
come the dawning sun.
They get washed out and pulled into the tide,
as the waves beat upon the shore of wakefulness.
They fade into fragmented memories
that make no sense...
Incoherent and disjointed.

Eventually, they disappear...
For they do not belong
in a world of worldly things
and ticking clocks.
Their intangible and mismatched nature
render them inconsequential...
Naturally...
They get misplaced.

But I am stubborn.

I will fashion such a blanket.
One that skirts the boundary
of this realm and the other.

I will tailor it so...

So that...
I will sleep tonight,
swaddled tight and cocooned within its
glorious seams.
Tucked within the safety and warmth of
this blanket...
Woven immaculate...
Out of
worldly things and breathtaking dreams.