Dream Logic

When delicious dreams dance

Through your sleepy cerebrum

Do you see ghosts galloping by?

Are angels announcing successful situations?

Or decidedly deadly demons destroying

Your timely treasure trove?

Might competing cherubim choruses clash

Creating unheavenly harmonies, or

Little leprechauns lustily leap through,

Waving windswept rainbows bending

Toward the lavish land?

When unlucky lions lust for

Momentous meals does your being believe

It’s treacherously true, or does

Righteous reasoning untangle gigantic gnomes

Grappling on your luscious lawn?

Carefree cats carouse in your yard

Delirious dogs dangerously stalk prey

As your heavy head haltingly falls back upon

Puffy pillows of dainty down.

Soldiers slash and burn buildings while

Crafty commanders shriek scrabbled sentences

Waving wicked wands that sprinkle sparkles

In the deepest, darkest night.

Vicious venomous vipers sizzle zooed zebras

Lounging lazily behind links while

Porcine pandas ponder bulky bamboo

Priests praise gods in unholy ululations

While communities corrupt into chaos

Rioting right through your lonely life

Mothers majestically cradle crying babies

Born in proud poverty while

Faith filled fathers find superior strength,

Saving all from untimely death

Logic, luckily leaves as soon as eyes

Close and delirious dreams drip

Drop by drop preparing paths for

Dream logic to wind its wicked way

Into your nightly nirvana.

Never can one predict what may emerge

When the eyelids languorously close and

Dream logic descends.

Midnight Blues

Midnight blues sing through my veins

Filling my heart with discordant strains

 

Untamed beats chase away smooth rhythms

Binding my emotions in velvet ribbons.

 

Saxophones and trumpets blaze into the night

Screaming in agony: writhing with fright

 

Discordant voices lost in the devilish din

Succumbing to the mesmerizing power of sin

 

Dreams of orchestras lost in unholy pleas

Drag me down, down, onto wobbly knees

 

Rending sounds screech, moan, and tear

apart my soul; laying my heart bare

 

In supplicant voice, a sweet melody

Springs forth; a personal symphony

 

Gentle flutes settle the lopsided score

As piccolos delve straight to the core

 

Softly discontent relaxes its grip

Into the night, those pesky blues slip.

 

 

 

 

 

Buffalo Dreams

Visions of a long ago past

keep clouding my brain,

carrying me back in time

when herds of shaggy buffalo

roamed the verdant plains,

grazing peacefully on the lush

grasses and thinking of little

except taking the next bite.

 

Nomadic tribes followed the

mighty herds, giving praise

to their gods for the wonders

of sustenance freely given.

Every sinew, every shard of bone,

every inch of hide valuable gems

for improving the quality of life.

 

Brave warriors, dressed in hides

and lathered in specially-made

potions encircle the unmindful

beasts, seeking those best suited

for the entire tribe’s needs.

 

Never taking more than would be

consumed, never wasting gifts

for the sake of one small part,

and always thanking the beast’s soul,

for dying so that others may live.

 

Traditions broken by the arrival

of ungrateful hunters who willingly

destroyed the herds to line their small

pockets with precious gold coins,

in their wake leaving only the

footprints of times long past.

Mother’s Dreams

Mother, with hair tightly rag-wrapped

Settled in the recliner, napped

 

Dreams drifted to far-flung places

Filled with her relatives’ faces

 

Family friends passed in and out

Love scenes soaked with tremulous doubt

 

A new shape, unfocused, appeared

Walking and snarling, horror feared

 

Creature crazed by darkened deals

Upon the rack, its story reels

 

Angels intrude with halos worn

Arrive with blazing golden horn

 

Suddenly Mother does awake

Feeling fulfilled from her short break

 

Forgotten, threat of creature spawn

Instead aglow with love’s full dawn

Awakening

When my eyes closed,
Your image remained
For hours and hours
Afterward

You walked my dreams
Blessing me with love
For hours and hours
Through the night

Your arms held me
Your kisses bathed me
For hours and hours
With tenderness

When I awoke
You at my side
For minutes and minutes
In unity

In awe I stared
Loving your eyes
For seconds and seconds
Beyond time

We drift through time
Missing moments
For years and years
To eternity

Cloud Watching

When I was young

I spent hours lying on my back

Staring at the clouds

And wondering what they were.

Sometimes a rabbit or cow.

Maybe an old man or woman.

Occasionally a car or truck.

Most importantly,

They represented an ability to dream,

An insight into a creative urge

To make sense of the world around me.

 

I still love to look at clouds

Even though I am officially old.

I no longer see shapes.

Instead I see beauty.

The wispy feather-like clouds

That streak across the sky.

Or the piles of cumulus clouds

That signal storms coming.

Or the thin stretches of clouds

That add depth and color to the sky.

They still represent creativity

Because they stir in me

A desire to put words to paper,

To make sense of the world

Through story and song.

 

I hope that I will always be able to see

Wonder in clouds.

That they will continue to speak to me

In verse and narrative

And help me to tell my version

Of what the world means.

 

So I will keep on watching clouds,

Like I did as a kid.

And keep on trying to make sense

Of the world.