No Disney Mermaids, Here No Disney mermaids, here, in a predawn net of dreams that won't let me go. But that's not quite true. I hold onto them, too, over reality because life is the nightmare that's real. And so I drown, at long last, in tangled water, choosing the insanity, where water becomes a hand. And I hold onto it, too, because I'm also scared to drown, even in this wonder of dreams. We're not Disney mermaids; not svelte, with lovely voices, and it's suddenly fine that we are our real selves. The ones battered by storms and rocks, that have many scars, and that we drown together in this space between worlds. Because that is the love we need. A something real one. A strong one. But our waking thoughts try to rip us apart. I feel your hand in mine, still, and I don't let go, but it's hard to make the tea that will bring me back to the world I hate. But it's that world that brings me your message in a drowning bottle. And I'm glad I haven't let go.
In the Unknown Space
In this imagined space,
you are the hardest to believe
that you aren’t real
just a ghost among all the other unknowns.
But I still meet you here, playing among
unicorns and fairies and a lost-forever
garden of childhoods never had.
And this poem fails to capture what you are.
Stilted and awkward but always hopeful
for the day I wake, and you are here,
dreaming me into something known.
In this maze of dreams,
we are both lost and found
chasing each other like ghosts
up and down corridors and
I follow lipstick’d messages
that blaze scarlet in this
Sometimes I hear you crying
in the looking-glass
I can’t leave you anything
but smeary hand prints.
Your rooms, caretaker,
are gathering more dust
with each passing year.
I want to find you,
bring you out of this madness, our ancient storm
into a world without walls and shadows
where we dance on rainbows
and fly away on butterfly wings.
The Glitch is Constant
Just like every other day
the reboot has failed
I’ve examined my insides
but the how-to-fix-things
button remains hidden
I’ve looked to the outside world
for the caring techician
to bring both expert knowledge
but no such thing exists.
Sometimes I still wonder
who will fix me
even though it’s futile
so I just wait in this state of decay
for the reboot of my soul’s time
or even the reset of eons
to erase humanity for sake of the animals
It’s the only hope I have left.
My lovely holiday newsletter is ready to send out!
Even better, I decided to create a wishes-come-true contest to go with it (A signed copy of my poetry book to eleven lucky winners!). Details will be in my email newsletter, so sign up by using the link to the right on the widgets sidebar (MailChimp), or go here.
Good luck in the contest!
Happy holidays, and have a lovely winter season to all my follower friends!
I dreamt of my muse last night. That’s not unusual, but the nature of their entrance was not typical. Usually, it’s pretty dream-like…like I know it’s not really happening. That they are a fictionalized construct of that person, and the whole experience will end up in a poem.
Viola De Lesseps: I love you, Will, beyond poetry. —Shakespeare in Love
Last night, though? I didn’t even go looking for my muse, or build a dream around them before I went to sleep.
With all the force of a shock wave, they were there. Like lightning went all through me. My dreaming mind didn’t quite know what to do…and I’m used to having really vivid, lucid dreams. Imagine if somehow a flesh-and-blood person showed up in your dream, with no dream filters like magic and wishful-thinking scenarios or even surreal situations. And yet there was still magic surrounding my muse in their black-and-white (?) t-shirt and black jeans and looking a bit annoyed with having to punch their way into my dream. Sort of like a psychedelic swirling of rainbow colours behind them.
It was definitely one of the more interesting dream voyages I’ve had. So far, I haven’t found a poem to put that experience in, yet. Because it felt too real. And, yet, still wonderful.
wasted time channeled that perplexing dream into creating a new Pinterest board to display some of my sources of inspiration for my poems. Poetic Muse-ings
What sort of things serve as muses in your worlds?