An Untoward December

I dream in silence, dream of running children,
Of you, the way you were so long ago;
So long ago, some untoward December,
The cold before the falling of the snow.
You’re going faster, up and towards the mound —
The film is running, running without sound

There is no taste or scent, there’s only vision;
The colors are bedimmed, to black-and-white,
You turn, excited, asking me to chase you,
And in my dream, I’m ready for the flight —
For though the scene is silent, I’m assured
By how you looked, of what had been your word.

With travels great, word-billions said,
Somehow, there lives within my head,
A vision, like a silent show:
A place I was a hundred lives ago —

I dream in silence, dream of us as children,
Of you and I out running in the fields,
Out in the fields of untoward December,
Before our hearts constructed all these shields —
For though the world grows old and taut with violence,
I still remember you within
The silence


Photo credit : ID 72579129 Vadim Zakharishchev | Dreamstime.com

Winter Dreams

She lays her head to rest, because she must.
In visions, winter carries her away:
To icy ballrooms, floors of sparkle-dust,
And lovers dancing. Hair in disarray,

She spins across a crystal wonderland,
A prince whose shining face she can’t quite see —
Her tired head laid still across her hand,
And aching dreams her life at apogee.

Patterns

My mind is always seeking patterns,
Symmetries that I can find;
Looking for associations
Quaint or colorful or kind —

All day long I’m seeking patterns,
And at night, through dream and mare;
Just to find, whene’er I see them,
That my mind has put them
There

For All That Dreamers Dream

… there is a cost.

For those who know, the quiet’s like a salve;
A balm to soothe the aching, wounded soul –
A therapeutic that is there to have
Whenever life or liars leave a hole

A whole entire world of wondrous sights
Will open up for those who scale the heights –
Upon the wind of solitude to soar;
The nadir and the apex – what they’re for –

For all that dreamers dream, there is a cost:
The peace that’s needed, just to take in breath –
The separation that is part of death –
The death that is the dream forever lost

Lost everywhere, but not beyond reclaim:
For love’s a dream with wings, and knows no shame

Dearth and Main

Down at the corner of Dearth and Main,
I saw a spectre wait again
For someone lost and gone before
Through love’s wide window or death’s dark door.

She comes there to stand in expectancy
And a feeling of pity comes over me
That the loyal dead know more of life
Than many a husband, many a wife,

But the wind sings the city to poisoned sleep,
And the heart that forgets still remembers deep,
For it’s only the good that can cause such pain,
When your down on the corner of Dearth

And Main

Mendicant Dreams

Wraith-like, twisting
My dream sweeps out
With menaced urgency

Lighting on some
Ancestral shrine
Where my soul longs to be

The grasses, bending,
Supplicant
Whisper how I should stay

The grave welcomes
A mendicant
Who cannot find his way

But I will be there
Soon enough
The tomb – what’s left of me

For now, I am one
With the clouds
Beside
The Irish
Sea