A Real State

Every time I closed my eyes I saw people, 

Strangers in my midst with tools in hand,

And every time I saw them I dismissed them,

They shrugged and left but returned when I turned round.

My husband couldn’t see them though I told him,

My children couldn’t see, they raised their brows,

I felt crazy with myself and with the whole crowd,

Who were these men and why were they here now.

I entered rooms and there they were dismantling

Everything they found and deemed demised,

I argued, shouted, waved my hands before them,

They shrugged again and, though gone, were still inside.

I hurried to the rooms that they were haunting,

Not spectres, no, but quite determined still

That all my protestations, all my anguish,

Could be ignored while on they went about their will.

My eyes were opened in their closed state, I knew this,

A dreamer’s state but wakened yet withal,

I’d wake for real, return and there they were still present,

A nightmare to a sleeper when sleep calls.

I had to write this down upon my waking,

Or did I write it while still in my dream

Or was the dream and all the fears and terrors

An illustration of my mind and world for real.

 

Mary-Kate

Overtones and undertones of beauty all displayed

Upon rough-tumbled mattress, here no feathered bed,

Interwoven tresses cascading onto floor,

Rumpled cloth and denim, silken-casualled lore.

Breathed in creamed complexion, undisturbed in sleep,

Portrait of simplicity, in dreamland while I peep.

Softened heart displayed on lips,

Relaxing in repose,

Daughter number two, unthorned,

Delicately dazzling rose.

Time Warped

Time warped,

the minutes and the hours,

seconds passing sleep or wide alert,

Night-time sojourns

meshing into mornings,

dawnings falling backwards disconcert.

Mid-night, 

inelegance of musings,

 stars unseen in murky hash through pane,

Daylight darkness,

entangled sleeping patterns,

or time, warped, misdelivered by the rain.

Gondoliers of Light

surreal pic 1

Navigated clouds, we did,

Packed for journey’s end,

Gondolier’d beams’ passages

Through gate of soul’s best friend.

Rode on waves of denser mass,

Cast shadows far below,

Soared to heights of ecstasy,

Paid dues for Peter’s show.

Lived the light, drank in its worth,

Streamed it through the night,

Believed in dawn, its heraldry,

Basked in glory bright.

Travelled far in torpor’s wake,

Languid in our bliss,

Transcended life in heaven’s arms,

Partook of its warm kiss.

Image courtesy of sattva / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Chantilly Dreams

…and we drift

off into oblivion,

sheltering sanity and cost to trust,

reposed breaths taken to ease,

soughing breezes without,

chantilly draped eyes cease to view,

seeing only treasure scapes unfolding within,

spiralled connections,

vanilla’d comfort,

cream-coated tendrils woven in dreams…

Do Tell

There’s a wide-eyed wild woman in my house this morning. I’ve met her before and given her short shrift on my way out to work. My husband commented on her presence this morning with the words, ‘What time did you come to bed last night?’

‘Late’ is a perfectly valid time on the writer’s timepiece. It is just vague enough to have been reasonably early or heading for the hay as the birds twitter.

I wasn’t that late last night/this morning. But, good grief, I have to get this writing malarkey under control. Truth be told, I don’t really want to because too many years have passed wishing for just such dedication. And now that I’ve found it I’m scared to jinx it by being too controlling.

And I’m not so hot on the discipline thing anyway with regard to certain activities. I know myself well enough for that. I would have made a lousy soldier. I prefer to rely on impulse and compulsion in some areas of my life. Too much of it is dictated to by routine and rote. So, sensory pleasures must be allowed to flourish whenever possible. A more regimented routine is difficult to imagine at the moment.

But when I viewed myself, looking and feeling somewhat like a vampire – all white-faced and red-eyed seeking a good blood source for a much-needed feed, I have to consider whether I’m not neglecting my health in the name of the written word and thoughts.

So, I have to make some sort of effort to exert some discipline and self-control and rejoin the land of the living. But I don’t know how to switch it off without switching it off! Up too late writing, then thoughts disturbing my sleep. And hubby’s, I’m told. I’ve always talked in my sleep. Apparently, now, I also knock hell out of folk!

No selfies on this one but think Macbeth and three crones. I’m not Macbeth. But Shakespeare must have had a peephole into my future when he wrote that one. Maybe that’s why it was set in Scotland.

What do others do? Give in and go with the flow glad to be pouring forth on paper words that might never see the light of day anyway? Take pad and pen everywhere? I already do that. Try for a timetable? Take up running? I hear that’s good for keeping the thoughts flowing while getting fresh air. But that’s hubby’s love and I didn’t like it when I tried it. More than once, I might add, to give it a fair crack.

The weather’s picking up so maybe garden writing like last year. Sun and words, a wonderful combination. But it’s so hit and miss yet. And I can see clouds rolling in from here. I’ll never make my first year blogging anniversary at this rate. And I don’t like the coffin look. So do tell.

Discovery

In dreams

I find the answers

To my searching,

In scenes

Depicted of

Another world.

On waking

I redeem

My body,

Reclaim my soul,

Exposed,

Quite unfurled.

Travels

Of a weird  and

Winding nature,

Travails

Enacted in

Etheric plain.

With smile

On lips

And laughter

Surging upwards

I rejoin life,

New perspectives gained.

 

Stark Reality

cushioned oblivion

eyes closed to the weeping

hearing drowned in all dreams

reality altered

around us while sleeping

nothing quite as it seems

soothed by the angels

feted in slumber

purified innocent eyes

awaken to terrors, a

heaven more humbler

sleep the purveyor of lies

casting its light

in shadows of darkness

illusory nature of sleep

vile veracity

illumined day’s starkness

now hear those who must weep

Astounded

The response to my last post has left me just as my title states – astounded. I have never had so many comments or likes on any one single post. And every comment was so positive.

I have had maybe half a dozen professional massages in my life and, each time, I have been wiped out by them –slept for hours afterwards.

I did this again yesterday. After returning from work I slept. Fully clothed on top of my bed. Woke, changed, crawled under the covers and slept right through until 6a.m. More than 12 hours sleep!

Utterly wiped.

Perhaps there’s a connection between having every muscle of your body eased and having your mind eased. The effect was identical.

If I dreamed at all I can’t remember.

Hopefully, the cathartic effect of ‘coming out’ has left me renewed.

I’m usually fairly quick to answer comments but there have been so many it may take more time. I am on it and will answer every one.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the responses from everyone.

I feel I have been massaged from every corner of the globe!

So much sleeping also means I’m way behind on my post reading. I will catch up there too. This blogging/writing could be a full-time job. I wish!

Many thanks again to all of you who read and/or commented. It truly feels like hands and minds across the world. And that is such a beautiful thing.