Tag: dreams

Childhood Home
childhood · dreams · life · recovery · writing

Childhood Home

V.J. Knutson19 Comments

The place remains in my dreams
like a movie set preserved…

Have assigned each room
a critique – disclosed the crimes

Yet, it remains, like a beacon
draws me to it, begs reflection

What if I could go back
now that I can breathe

Now that I’ve laid claim to maturity
would I discover a sudden windfall

makeover conditioned motifs
reevaluate ceiling heights

with resources to remodel
heart open, connected

might I uncover abundance
like a personal embrace.

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: featured image.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What We Really Need
creativity · life · photography · poetry · writing

What We Really Need

V.J. Knutson15 Comments

We purchase boards
imagine roots –
dream bigger
ignore the dawning

The higher the fence,
we tell ourselves,
the better the privacy.
Work hard, earn big.

And the longing grows
it’s the heart that seeks roots
hungers for connection
love like sunshine

Would knock down walls
throw open the doors
bask in the expansiveness
of kindred moments shared.

(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly prompt:  sunshine.  Image is my own – a common merganser basking in sunshine.)

Grey
adversity · change · creativity · poetry · writing

Grey

V.J. Knutson10 Comments

Lured by azure waters,
the promise of carefree days,
I cruise ocean’s waters,
dream myself exotic.

Grey clouds loom, mock
this pretence – waves swell
crash, blacken horizon –
delusion loosing ground.

What force is this,
drags me into aphotic depths,
insists I swim in darkness?

Have I not proven tenacity,
claimed a place amongst the willing?

It is not light, I seek – too sinful
for redemption – just the solace
of familiar grey….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bleeding Edges
adversity · creativity · poetry · writing

Bleeding Edges

V.J. Knutson11 Comments

Wrap myself in verdant dreams –
creaseless envelope of hope –
have written my deepest desire,
sealed the vessel shut…

meanwhile, reality oozes red,
like puss from open wounds,
creeps into careful corners,
bleeds through edges…

nothing neat about dreaming –
life demands, cuts, prods,
does not bargain – hope is fine
unless control is the container.

(Inspired by the prompts of Ragtag Community: verdant; Fandango: meanwhile; and Reena’s Exploration Challenge: bleeding edge.)

Image from personal collection.

Close Call
creativity · dreams · poetry · writing

Close Call

V.J. Knutson16 Comments

In dreamtime, he comes,
my eclectic animus –
sometimes raven,
often tree,
he seduces –
first in conversation
then in arousing flesh –

Spellbound, witless,
my edges soften, melt,
and just at the moment
of near surrender,
lucidity knocks,
yanks me from watery
depths – sets me back
on conscious soil –

Anchored anew,
I shake off the lingering
tingle, brain abuzz,
reconnect with aged
limbs, mundane ills
and skedaddle.

(Catching up with Reena’s Exploration challenge – image provided; and linking up with Manic Mondays 3 Way Challenge – anchored; and Ragtag Community’s – skedaddle; and Fandango’s – eclectic.)