Category: dreams

Of Wings

Winged things
are meant to fly,
like birds, and planes,
and dragonflies…
angels…

I had dreams once –
winged creatures
who soared
limitless skies…
free…

Until fear –
a cruel master –
caged my heart,
clipped my spirit…
broken…

Age and loss
turned the page,
locks illusions
unravelled…
escape…

Vulnerable,
I walk, remember
wings, lift my face
to inclement  weather…
fly…

(Written in response to Willow Poetry’s weekly challenge:  What do you See?)

Interior Motives

Mother lives in me –
her hopes and fears
now embodied
in my choices,
this guilt borne
of her suffering…

and her mother –
who laboured often
with unwelcome toil,
her only respite
widowhood –
it’s her legacy
I bear.

Potential –
who once appeared
with all the radiant
charm of youth,
exists within, also,
although our connection –
drowned out by the banter
of those gone before –
lacks substance.

I remember how
we used to sing –
hearts joyful,
full of daring.

How even in the face
of rigidity, we raised
our voices, dreamed

Now, both distracted –
I, shaking off fragments
of Mother’s hapless life,
extracting splinters
of a grandmother
destined to woe;

potential,
glances away,
forlorn as
a forgotten child,
pouting.

Love, Like Shoes

If searching for love
was like shopping for shoes,
I’d fixate on the simplest
of finds, choosing practicality
over fashion flair.

My preference is for earthy,
unassuming: plain is fine
as long as the structure
gives me room to breath –
no grasping too tight.

If I shopped for love,
like I do for shoes,
I’d ignore those pushy
sales lines, opt instead
for a supportive sole,

settle for guaranteed comfort
over flashy heels, can’t bear
the instability of pedestals,
love flattery like most,
but need to feel grounded.

No doubt I’d question
my selection, offer it up
to my children for feedback
be mocked, dissuaded,
put it back and search anew,

discover futility in my seeking,
realize that I need new love
like I need new shoes –
only a foolish indulgence
for a woman who lives in bed.

(This poem, inspired by a dream, was penned when I was still bed bound, two years ago.  Hope it made you smile.  If you found yourself on the hunt for love, what would you look for?

p.s. my husband fits the criteria still, lol.)

Complexity of Freedom

Freedom is four hundred and fifty square feet of moveable tin, wheeling down the highway, destination unknown.  It is long walks through exotic forests, where focus lasts only as long as it takes to capture an image.  It is the privilege of sleeping and waking according to whim, routine an estranged concept.  It is the breeding ground for creativity – passion unleashed – and it is tainted by the hue of loneliness, the stark awareness that ties are strained, and those left behind feel abandoned.

Freedom’s highway calls –
hearts follow, passions flow, flee
guilt’s far-reaching pull.

(Written for DVerse’s Halibun Monday:  Complexity of Freedom prompt.)

Rowboat Dreams

A rowboat is a useful thing,
to get from a to b, but should
you dream you are stranded
with only one oar,
in a cesspool of sharks,
then I’d say you are hardly
equipped to handle the situation,
but don’t bail –
all you can do is hang on
and wait for the cavalry
(or better yet, Coast Guard).

Remember, save the rowboat
for romantic sunset cruise –
along the shore is best –
or an afternoon of fishing;
better to travel in deeper waters
with a more fitting vessel.

(There, I think I am done.  The NaPoWriMo challenge today is to write a dream interpretation for one or more objects listed, which wades into my interest zone.  I’ll leave the audience alone now.)

Hammer As A Symbol

A hammer is a driving thing,
as in driving home a point –
a moniker my husband bear’s
to depict his tenacious fight.

There’s hammer hold, and
hitting the nail on the head,
and “If I had a hammer” –
testimony to its symbolism.

A hammer, much like character,
is innocuous on its own, requires
willingness to wield, and practice
to perfect, but can be very useful.

A tool – not in the derogatory sense,
unless a dream assailant carries on
a relentless pursuit – a part of self
intent on breaking through walls.

So, should you dream of hammer –
not the M.C. kind – then ask yourself
these questions:  Am I on point, or
are my efforts actually constructive?

(Kind of like me with this NaPoWriMo exercise, lol.)