Posts Tagged ‘dream’

I listen to music with the lights off.

It’s like being asleep,

like lucid dreaming–

aware of the sounds,

but only the sounds, the notes.

I close my eyes

and the music fills me up.

My ears are what hear it;

my heart is what feels it, and pumps

the feeling that is more than just one feeling

throughout my body

and my head is empty,

devoid of probing thoughts,

but quickly filled

with music

and feeling.

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Posted: November 17, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

An Eye of Blue is like a Dream-

a Sea is that One’s Soul!

A Field Aflame in Eye of Green,

and Brown will calm or enthrall.

 

My eyes are Amalgamations,

a collision of two Souls;

three Colors combat and Glow-

My mind, it always reels.

 

written 22 October, 2014

edited 16 November, 2014

Disoriented,

drowsy, I hear

the rattle of a plastic bag,

the creak of a door,

the shuffling of shoes on carpet.

Each sound amplified

by my lack of concentration.

Each sound pulls me

into a life that is not mine,

only for the other

to wake me from the daydream,

and set me back into my chair

in front of a laptop

which I stare at blankly.

Something of majesty,

the forest encapsulated

in this tiger’s eye.

 

Lithing its snow-white feet

in my dreams, against murk

of jungle. Flames of pelt fly,

 

cinders soaring

to ignite this shadowland.

Morning is not nigh,

 

but fear before this

blazing beast

would be wise to flee.

No less an organ

than the cardiac muscle

and sinew

of a regular human heart.

This heart dreamt.

It dreamt of love

in two hands, clasped;

in four eyes, twinkling;

in lips and words, whispered

and shouted,

and gestures and laughter

and memories

that have yet to be made.

Some of these dreams

turned into wishes,

and the wishes became so strong

they turned into prayers-

much like a chick

turns into a fledgling,

than spreads its wings

and flies.

The heart was shattered

by promises

that held as much weight

as stardust,

sweet words

that disguised the taste of cyanide,

and its own dreams

which it believed too much in

and had its natural rhythm disrupted by.

The shattered fragments

of the glass heart

belong to me.

They dig into my ribs

and say don’t believe

too strong

in dreams.

Windless stillness,

silence.

Sunlight slices through

dense clumps of silver.

Light perforated

only by gray, almost transparent

shadows- long and thin

shadows of trees.

The earth is wearing out its

white play-clothes.

They have gravel stains,

dirt stains,

and the beating heart

of its grasses is turning

as it enters REM sleep.

Earth is dreaming of when

she will burst from the womb,

naked and beautiful,

and will grow its emerald hair

long.

And will decorate itself in jewels of color-

blossoms

and leaves.

A tune reels in my head.

It is so familiar yet so unmatched,

I yearn for it

as every man and woman yearns for water.

I believe you are that tune.

Intruding upon everyday

steps on cement and blue carpet,

upon breaths made without thought,

upon blood drumming in ears- war drum

keeping balance between heart and head,

upon nights, moonlight deflected by drapes,

but fantasies not deflected

nor tune obscured

by darkness of room

or warmth of bed.