The present doesn’t go with last night’s dream. My future rolls her eyes. Those older books Stare at me with their hostile, angry looks Suggesting that I’d not know what they mean.
My dragons are far kinder than they seem. We drink fresh water from the ancient brooks. We catch our fish with only magic hooks And what we eat becomes our sacred theme.
It’s not that I have nothing to confess. It’s only what I’ve done is far too small To bother you with details should I sin. I’m sure the bed you’ve made looks like a mess. I’m sure you also felt that you would fall, But here we are. And look! The morning’s in.
Linked to dVerse Poetics where Anmol is hosting with the art of confession.
The bookcases of one-by-six planed pine All screwed to dark but open basement beams Are how I feel the language of my dreams Twist hidden deep within each antique line.
I rarely read these books and none are fine And no one wants them anymore it seems. Like waters from some minds' now frozen streams They'd flow for someone’s eyes, perhaps for mine.
Sometimes when lost I find a letter there Recalling handwriting from someone dear Suggesting paths forsaken in the past. The words she wrote were reasoned well with care. The details I forgot are once more clear. The present waits then leads me home at last.
Linked to dVerse Poetics where Lillian is hosting with the theme of writing about something in your home that speaks to you and to last weeks’ Meeting the Bar with the sonnet theme.
Contented pelicans stand on the shore. Clouds look solid then they move away. Water’s back and forth. It will not stay. With all of this do I need something more? What is it that I’m always looking for? There’s the Sun and here’s a newborn day. There’s a moment somewhere bright or gray When every breath blows past a bolted door.
I’ll sing these songs of praise and some again Repeating them like waves whose joy may reach And soak the toes of walkers on the sand. Then when my time is done and I head in And when fresh water smooths this sandy beach May love songs still enchant this fairy land.
Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar where Bjorn is hosting with the sonnet form. This sonnet has a rhyme scheme abbaabba cdecde. It is associated with sonnets written by Petrarch.
Before the music finds a way to end
I hope these faithless fears would take a break;
I hope I’d choose to give more than I take
I hope to trust the present as a friend.
Before I tell a dream it’s time to rise
I hope its vision binds me in some way;
I hope to nourish it throughout the day
Until I find its truth in someone’s eyes.
Before my rhythmic breathing has to slow
I want to say I tried each given task;
I want to feel I hid behind no mask
Preventing any miracle to show;
And if my bucket’s empty when I’m done
I hope you won’t reject an emptied one.
Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar hosted by Victoria C. Slotto with prompt to write a list poem.
Photo: “Yellow, White, Red and Green” by the author. Flowers on display at the Chicago Botanic Garden.