the summer,
always beautiful,
does not survive the storms
that winter brings
pierced with bitter icicles,
shattered hearts,
when lover part
with dreams they cannot mend
I see it every day,
a blizzard of bitter sorrow
snowflakes whirl and fly away
as lovers often do
snow drifts hide the paths we knew
banked around, too close, they hide the longer view
i have seen this well in the wood, long ago
my dreams are hid in its moss covered walls
treasures I secretly left there before
its slippery sides plunge down to dark depths
where water is constantly dripping
drip, drip, dripping,
into my thoughts
aware of the trees leaning over
dropping their leaves into the pool
hanging over the side,
feeling the coolness,
i drop in a pebble and wait
long falling before an echo
this well is old and deep
I look at this world. It brings me to tears.
No changes, no choices, no power, no voice.
Our fears come true instead of our dreams.
Our words echo, reverberate, into a void.
I have a dream, just like that man,
the one they killed for speaking the truth.
I have a dream just like the one
that lead to a man being hung on a cross.
I wish the world was more like our dreams.
People could base all their actions on love.
I wish we could be all that we want.
I wish I could be all that I need.
I have nothing to offer, words don’t cast a spell.
Be kind to each other, remember this well.
this is a found poem – it comes from my tag cloud on this blog and so it consists of words I use a lot in poems……….
*********************
My Obsessions.
Ancient bards and books,
a breeze full of butterflies
above the Celtic hills.
Cities, clouds, the dance of death,
a desert dragons dream,
dreaming dreams with evening eyes
of fateful fantasy and fire
with firelight in the forest garden
where a girl with a haiku
plays a harp and sings
of heart and home and horses.
Imagination kindles lakes,
leaves, land and love,
love, always love,
magic memories of moons
moonlight, morning music.
At night, the oak overshadows
oceans of passion
paths of peace and perfume,
poems of rain and ravens,
the rocks, the river,
roses by the sea.
The sky a silver smile
when the snows come,
then the song of spring,
sunlight and starlight.
Time towers above the trees.
The wings of winter spread again
above a woodland made of words
if dreams were liquid we’d all be oceans
notions of fish would swim in our depths
the tides are tirelessly churning the sand
the weeds below sway in the flow
in time the ocean will swallow the land
our silvered skins flicker and shine
I feel your slick side stroke against mine
circling back I seek you again
we swim through life escaping the nets
all our conversations
are becoming like this.
what are you thinking?
nothing of importance
what are you doing?
nothing right now
what were you doing last night?
nothing much
is anything wrong?
Nothing at all
i can’t fathom your tone
nothing is not an empty void
it fills the room
it’s so real I can’t breathe
then you say if you knew me
you wouldn’t be asking questions.
i thought you knew me completely
you don’t say what you have on your mind
you tell me nothing serious is happening
you say so much amidst your questions
you ask if I should have been an actor?
what the hell do you mean by that?
you ask can I find what I’m looking for here
and suggest I am lost in my dreams
not all can get lost in fantasy, you say
like its a blessing, and i get an award
you think I can’t see.
i see the nuance.
you insinuate
as you circle
herding me in
with maybe it’s this
and maybe it’s that
i am becoming impatient
this is becoming ridiculous
i say in exasperation
maybe i should have run off with a clown
maybe i should have been lead singer
when i played in a band back then
i start to feel sarcastic
and I don’t like the way i sound
maybe i am not looking for anything
did you think of that?
i followed a path that lead me here
if wishes were horses I’d be riding
but I’m not wishing
I am trying to write a poem
sitting by a river
it can help sometimes
and that’s what I do
yes, sure i get sad, who doesn’t
but it’s never that nature no longer delights me
I don’t forget the glory, even when it’s hidden
behind a day in the grey, with no shine
the trees against the clouds still have grace
i am thinking of what i am seeing
the wind that blows blow all away
that’s where I am,
that’s what I am doing
that’s who I am
Nothing at all
love is not always
as fragile as it seems
if it’s founded on truth
and nestled in dreams
thoughts of Peter Pan
his shadow shut inside a drawer
poor fellow, incomplete
no old companion at his feet
and what if all the shadows went
not just your own
imagine a wooded glade
no contrasts there at all
sun shafts and no shade
no place to hide alone
in sweet repose and rest
and in a darkened room by firelight
no shadows dancing on the wall
by shadows we are blessed
where would imagination go
with no escape from endless bright
and crystal clear illumination
I recall a walk long ago
at full moon with my love
as my shadow played with hers
crossing and blending in our path
I wondered if my shadow
was as happy then as I
a childhood friend to play with
my shadow made me think
and wonder at the world
it’s a link to see ourselves
it shrinks and stretches, grows,
depending where we go
my shadow makes me
more aware of light
it connects me to the ground
when the sun is bright
I never see it in my dreams
I wonder what that means
leaving me to sleep
it disappears at night
I wonder where it goes
no-one knows that truth
I only know that when I die
my shadow wont exist
nor me, not I
perhaps we vanish into light
at end of day when all is done
and i am in my lovers arms
i fall asleep in sweet repose
counting all her charms
any troubles of the day
mean nothing in comparison
our love has washed them all away
our day has been replete
and full of loving smiles
her head now rests upon my arm
with the sinking of the sun
and the circling stars
all our dreams are sweet
when the power went out we were ready
the oil lamps were always filled
the white candles stood in their holders
all was warmth and comfort
we gathered more brushwood and bracken
kindled the fire, make it crackle,
piling on logs and driftwood
we had dried in the yard in the summer
the kettle was boiling,
bread steadily rising,
as we sat near the wood stove,
silently gazing, drifting in dreams,
telling stories and fantasies
hot baths in steam and candlelight
snuggling under thick blankets
while the wind rattled the roof tiles
making a flute of the drainpipes
life went on unchanging, undaunted
when the power came back
we flicked a switch and turned on the radio
the world stepped back into the house
bringing nothing of value
tonight in another time and place
i live in another era, with no power
the house instantly grows colder
i wander about with a battery torch
in rooms full of shadows
i missed you more
than the woodsmoke and firelight
and any old luxuries of survival
but none of it matters now
The Dreaming Path 