Understand That This Is A Dream
In which this day, being the ninth
of the month, is numbered for magic.
In which I was inspired to wear
around my neck a silver dragon.
In which, if I am very blessed, friends
whom I hurt will forgive my reckless words.
In which I come home and my cat (deceased)
does not greet me … yet I seem to see her.
In which I am given a picture of the Blue
Madonna from Brazil, to use in healing.
In which I make a poem about light and read it
aloud to three women who project light.
In which I appear to inhabit a body
79 years old, white-haired and overweight.
In which I resist sleep because of those moments
still awake, lying alone waiting.
still awake, lying alone waiting.
In which sleep snatches me in a chair so fast
I'm powerless to defy – often, and not briefly.
In which the weather is warm for Autumn
but we'll likely have rain tonight.
In which Judith wants a jar with a red-checked lid
and someone who didn't know this gives her one.
In which I seem to exist, along with a world
that feels real, firm to the touch.
In which I've had worse dreams, but some
of my fellow-dreamers might wish for better.
Day 9 of Poems in April at 'imaginary garden with real toads' asks us to take the title of an Allen Ginsberg poem as a point of reference. I've used it as the title of my own poem.
An awesome poem!
ReplyDeleteOh good! (Until feedback, one never knows.)
DeleteOh my goodness, how can you not? I love that Selene is not there yet there, and the projecting of light. Loved every line. And could SEE it all, so clearly.
DeleteRosemary, without a shadow of a doubt, my favourite poem of the day. I love everything about it.
ReplyDeleteThank you, I'm tickled pink.
DeleteI want to write a whole essay in response to this --- I love this poem.
ReplyDeleteMaybe you could write a poem in response!
DeleteHave you been in my kitchen cupboard? I am missing a red checked lid off my jar. I noticed this tonight. Spooky!
ReplyDeletePS
I want it back:)
Aw gee, I only borrowed it for the poem! (Actually, this lid came with jar attached, and it wasn't me who gave it to Judith. Though I was there to see.)
DeleteI absolutely love this poem, Rosemary!❤️ It has a very poignant and lovely stream of consciousness feeling to it. I can sense and feel your heart in these lines; " In which I come home and my cat (deceased) does not greet me … yet I seem to see her," and want to give you warm and gentle hugs.. The ocean of myriad emotions in this poem leave the reader wanting more near the end. Thank you so much for writing to the prompt!❤️
ReplyDeleteYes, it was pretty much stream of consciousness, though tweaked a bit after. Well spotted.
DeleteLove this poem Rosemary. The dreams you posted in this, all of them interesting and funny and sad.
ReplyDeleteOh, Toni, I was really writing to the concept that 'life is but a dream' which we are all collectively dreaming. Those are all things pertaining to yesterday (April 9th) when I wrote it.
DeleteI like your dream, Rosemary. You did a good job of putting it into poetry. I loved the starting of each couplet with "in which" also.
ReplyDelete..
I feel like I have been weaved into the dream with you. Reality threaded with dream...It is hard to know if you're truly awake. I often wonder the why of such a state.
ReplyDeletethe cat line made my heart go out to you as I just read about it yesterday... and I googled the Blue Madonna from Brazil - interesting.
ReplyDeleteI googled her too, but could not find the exact image with same background as I was given. Maybe there are a number of versions of her in different Cathedrals.
DeleteI make a poem about light and read it
ReplyDeletealoud to three women who project light.
... how amazing would that be...even in a dream.
Ha ha, part of my everyday reality, I assure you.
DeleteThere's such a casual spell to this, as my dreamsmoke often is, nothing great to one eye but full-celestial to a quiet other. A wonderful accounting too of two lives -- one surface, the other deep -- inhabiting one vessel of self. Sorry about your cat.
ReplyDeleteLike being under a spell made of dreams. Gorgeous, Rosemary!
ReplyDeleteIn my mind, the speaker is holding a wand, floating in front of the world made canvas, making every bit of imagery into a reality, sending each line right into my mind's eye. And then, I get to dream the poem, too... the Blue Madonna wears Yemayá's face, her smile is a wave of healing dancing into souls...
ReplyDelete