I didn't fall into disrepute
So much as occur there

                                    By Phil Roberts

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.

Catapulted...
Over the moon.
Counted stars
as I hurtled through time and space.

I had tasted the sweetness.
The spellbinding grasp of weightlessness
as I crested upon the peak of my ascent.
Felt free and overwhelmed that moment
where the universe and I collided...
And birthed the second.

I only had that second.

The second that spanned an eternity.
The second filled with abundant promise.
The second that unclenched my fist,
melted my heart,
and liberated my mind.

But gravity takes control
and that second dissolves as
quickly as it came.
Reality beckons almost gentle...
Like swaying palms in the night sea breeze.
Assuring me that I'll be back in my rightful place.

In this time...
And this space...

Walking in the midnight garden of lost hopes and dreams

I inhale the scents of not all it seems

It's here the Dedpoet speaks to me

He tells me things I didn't know

As away I go

further into the realm of enchanted dreams

Here, past, present, future, hold no sway.

Blindly I place one step in front of the other

Pathways are a long time gone.

All the while I hear his voice

Omnipresent, pure, urging me forward

Breath holds in my chest

Unwilling to escape,

Again I hear that voice

Leading me to clarity

Where at last I breathe

Rejoice

I guess its time to tip the flask
while taking up another task
writing down my hurt and pain
in messages, I bleed in vain.

Taking leave, I bid adieu
thanking them & thanking you
hope I find inspired thought
else it seems, it's all for naught?

Trouble brought by words we say,
or folded hands we teach & pray,
perhaps I'll write another day?

Until then, I say farewell,
in stories I may never tell,
intentions good, paving roads
we're hoping to relieve the load.

Kissed by luck & slapped by fate
I live by love, & not by hate
so here's to them & here's to you
something that we all must do
scraping off the sticky shoe
& all the nasty residue...

A poets heart is sometimes frail
while looking for the Holy Grail
in spinning webs, a haunting tale
this time of year reminds us all
someone must have quite the gaul,
to write of leaves and how they fall

Seems I've got a poetic curse,
I suppose that things,
they could be worse
keep on spilling, verse and verse

Lifting up the bones I bury,
digging  down can be quite scary
sometimes even slightly harry
even though I'm kinda wary

I write again for you.

Cherie Nolan