Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 21, 2024

Off Key Dreams

Specificity is not the answer

Hard to stay focused, too many things to focus on 

my mind swept up in strong currents 

Some things matter more than money monarchies 

 

Make my dreams reality

Love integrity lost in melodies of pageantry,

Empathy dissolved in a legacy of zealotry

There’s a fatality of sanctity 

 

Set the sky on fire, bring souls out of mire, 

Heart is a siren, beats with desire 

Tired of infighting, stir the fire of love 

Israel’s religious history is here for all mankind 

should search to find their way out of a bind  

 

Stay on the peace grind at the center of mindfulness, 

All religion winds down to similar precepts 

my life seems an open book 

I say it’s written in an ancient language translated by my soul 

 

Stop thinking it’s so simple to define me 

A midnight blue sky filled with silver stars amidst fuchsia blossoms 

 

Leaves fall from dogwood trees 

A white turtle dove flew into my hand, came from above, 

hovered a second or two 

Do you think I’m in love again?

Friday, March 11, 2016

Dream Love

Felix stares deep into my eyes
leans towards me,
it's a dream
I stare back into
Sweet almond eyes
Presses his lips to mine
Kisses my lips gently,
Lips slightly apart
Total eclipse of my art,
My too-kind heart
I was never smart in love
And attraction, men are an alien faction
My private eye –shy daddy mack,
Always take him back

The second kiss, a photo in my mind's eye
I feel that kiss now
See his face as though were today,
Eyes lock in embrace
He bends his head toward me
I raise my head, anticipate
Lost in one another’s gaze
Says his one little phrase
Like a photo, stays glued in my memory

One kiss so sweet; cherished reveries
My Daddy likes no man who wants me
And even he sang Felix’s praises
“He really loves you,” he says
Stamped, signed and delivered
His face and eyes moving towards mine
Gently press his lips to mine,
See it as if it was two clear photos,
Shown in two different angles

A photo I see with closed eyes
Even if I were to be blind
It will remain clear in my mind
A sensory delight, exemplary levity
A memory that never lived
So can’t survive
A dream delight withstands time
Forever I see the photo in my mind



Thursday, December 25, 2014

Tired Of These Silver Gray Days

Another gray day just like yesterday
And the day before
Makes me wonder if it’s a sign of decay
If we’ll ever learn the way
Just like London
Everyday begins gloomy in the morning and
Later the sun comes out to play
Then by afternoon goes away
Everyday it rains like here in New York City
Watch silver skies and overcast
Stare out the plate glass window in dismay
While I sit and crochet
Imagine living in a chalet on Hudson Bay
Made of stone and glass,
Fine walnut cabinets with stained glass doors
Pull out drawers throughout
Sun streams through my sun porch
When it rains, I close the glass doors and watch
Fine sprays of rain descend
Dream I’m a millionaire – I’ve spent that much
Gypsies believe if you’ve spent a million you are one
A blue jay flies by in 45-degree December
My thoughts stray,
Want to defray the cost of living
Wonder how those worse off pay
Bills in a place so ill the rent’s
Three times higher than salary
Wealthy connive to create anarchy
Pray USA's working poor will survive

Monday, September 15, 2014

Dream A Dream For Me Lover

I dreamed this two weeks ago.
I am with Missy, my young grad school buddy.  She’s with a new boyfriend, someone I never met before. I recognize this as strange in my dream, knowing she's now married with children. Bob, my boyfriend, Missy, and my son, Joey are all there together. Bob is with us yet seconds later is rapping to some chick about 15 feet away. I walk towards them, but when I get there, Bob’s disappeared into thin air. 
“Where's Bob?"  I ask.
Joey says, “In the store, buying beer.”
         Missy and I are walking together downtown on Broadway alone. We’re on our way to visit my Dad down on 162nd street. It’s a long walk from Sickle Street (Close to Dykeman Street) in Washington Heights.
This is before Washington Heights became Hudson Heights, before gentrification. For me it will always be The Heights.
Missy and I are strolling slowly, talking, taking our time.  We run into Alan Abel, the big 'Get Even' Scam Man Prankster, Bob had introduced me to.
I say, “Hi Alan, how are you?”
Alan says, “Hey, how’re ya’? You’re the woman involved with Bob, that young English fellow I met you with in Oxford?” Alan is speaking while pulling out all these clothes from somewhere. I can’t figure out where they’re coming from. 
Missy says excitedly, “Lets share everything.”
“Excellent,” I agree, forgetting my concern about where the stuff is coming from.
I pull out a tight colorful skirt. I feel Missy’s eyes on it. I say, “Oh Missy, that wouldn't fit you, you're too big.” I realize I spoke without thinking. Missy's not big anymore plus I'm worried I hurt her feelings. I quickly say, “Oh you're not big anymore.” Too late, the words are spoken.
         Missy, Alan and I wind up in my apartment’s home office. Alan is using my fax to make copies. I remember Bob putting cellophane wrappers on the roller that holds the fax paper. Later he refills with paper. I can't remember why Bob was using cellophane but suddenly realize Bob’s trying to trap me into doing something sexual with Alan. He is using cellophane to create a tracking record on fax.
Alan continues to make copies using the fax machine.
Alan says, “I really appreciate you letting me use your machine this way.”
I smell something funny burning inside the fax.  Suddenly the copy button pops up and out of the machine.
I say, “Oh shit Bob warned me about how careful I have to be with this fax.  He gave me this long list of do's and don'ts. Repeated over and over, ‘don't use white out, no scotch tape either, don’t touch buttons,’ and truth is I’m guilty and he’ll say I broke the fax.”
         Alan focuses on me. Alan says, “How much do you care about this Bob guy?”
“I'm crazy about him and can’t understand why he makes me unhappy. I wonder if any man can give me what I want or need.”
         Missy cuts in, “Do you both feel the same about faithfulness?”
 Alan tells Missy, 'No, the real problem is she has not found anyone to meet her needs or make her happy.”        
Alan turns to include me, “But, why aren't you faithful?” 
“You mean unfaithful because I'm hanging out with you here?' 
Right beside me suddenly is some guy standing there who wasn't there a second before. Someone I’ve never seen before.
I defend myself, “Oh, we don't have sex. And although I've been unfaithful, I'd much rather be faithful, but somehow, when I get unhappy I also get unfaithful."  I pause and take a breath. 
         "Is that it?" Alan said. He smiled slightly, added in his strong pretend English accent, "Well, that's all right then, some people are unfaithful just for the hell of it."
         "No," Missy said, "There's more to it than that.”
Alan has his mind made up. He starts making lists of the pros and cons about my relationship with Bob. Instead of reading the lists, I watch him feeding the lists through the fax to make copies. I see he's taped relevant and matching stuff together to better organize themes. I get worried about the fax.  
“Alan” I say, “you will break the fax putting paper through with tape.”
         Scene switches again. Alan and I are sitting together on rocks at an outdoor garden. We are completely alone and isolated. Alan moves closer behind me. The waterfall, rocky, slippery, with lush wild flowers, granite rocks glinting, mesmerizes me. Beautiful, and wild, yet tended to. I want to climb down but it's about a five-foot drop. I worry if I can’t get down I won't be able to climb back up without help. I stand there enjoying a familiar rapture, Alan’s powerful energy combined with the moment’s tranquility. I am enraptured yet captive.
         I feel Alan’s body pressing against mine. His growing erection presses against my butt. “I want you to be mine,” he said. "Even though I’m crazy beyond what you’ve ever known before, I believe we can make it.” He leaned in, bent his head.
         Dizziness overcame me, hunger clawed at me. My stomach lurched with fear of getting involved and let down again, and still I raised my lips to greet his.
         Eyes wide open, gazing deep inside mine, hurt inside the hunger’s so deep, I feel my womb throb with desire.

Wednesday, July 09, 2014

Dream A Little Dream For Me Lover

With the wings of a falcon
I fly across the valleys of my mind
The wind and my thoughts intertwined
Watch the sky, stars and planets align
Close my eyes, remind myself to unwind

Review events, people I know, combined
Can’t concentrate, lose my faith, resigned
Create a new version for mankind
On dew soaked grass reclined
Confined to visions in my mind

Dream of all I’ve left behind
Step to the left, step to the right
Wonder how to initiate life refined
Once again defined, I alight in flight

Soar across the valleys of my mind

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

America The Meager (sestina revised) For poets who don't believe in editing!!!



Alive burning with fire consumes me                                                               
Ready freedom burns me                                                                    
World full of disputes                                                                                     
House of ill repute                                                                                          
Esteem pollutes forbidden fruit                                                                       
Pursuit of dreams                                                                                            

American happiness is not pursuit of dreams                                                   
American dream a lie, fire consumes me                                                          
Covered clotted cream, forbidden fruit                                                                       
Deceit, the lie of the American dream burns me                                             
Life in the house of ill repute                                                                          
Americans drenched in disputes                                                                      

Freedom from consumerism                                                                            
Important to pursue the dream                                                                       
Caught up in ill repute                                                                                    
Desires feeds disputes                                                                                     
Dirty hands burn me                                                                                       
For sale, buy my forbidden fruit                                                                      

Can’t hide away forbidden fruit                                                          
Lust consumes me                                                                                          
Thirst so strong, it burns me                                                                           
Cravings coerced, reimbursed dreams                                                             
Yearnings lead to disputes                                                                               
Borne and bred of ill repute                                                                            

Iraq, Beirut, wars of ill repute                                                                         
Oil the biggest forbidden fruit                                                                        
Observing abuse consumes me                                                                        
Obliterating abuse causes disputes                                                                  
Inflicting suffering drowns dreams                                                                   
Blues burn me                                                                                                 

Trickle-down abuse burns me                                                                         
Weak forced to accept ill repute                                                                     
Eradicates man’s right to dream                                                                      
Access to achieve forbidden fruit                                                                     
Denials of basic rights consume me                                                               
Animal abuse and pollution, root of many disputes                                         

Equity and decency consume me, fear burns me                                             
Disputes, hurt heart, search escape from ill repute                                                      
Forbidden fruits multiply wealthy; cancel out poor man’s dreams       


***
Oftentimes as editor for the TCSR, people will send me poems to ask for thoughts or advice. When I honestly point out a misspelling or misuse of word, or give an example of what could improve the poem, i.e. changing a few words around, the biggest response I get is "I don't believe in editing my poems. The poem comes out the first time the way it should be." 

Well, here is the proof that it really helps to work on a poem, to edit errors, and to reconsider word usage. It makes a difference. 

As you can see, in the earlier version, inadvertently I used consume twice in two lines in one stanza which led to repetition, and since this form is essentially repetitious in its form, it works better to use a different word ending for each line of each stanza. 

Any thoughts fellow poets?