What the night gifts to me.


Soundproof my soul sits,

nestled in the cage of my ribs,

locked in the cells of my brain,

longing to fly free,

waiting till I weary of the noise,

the blah blah blah of candidates,

the obvious ploys of candid dates,

the drip, drip, drip of the faucet

in the wee hours,

the world rushing by,

til I flee for the sanctuary of

it's quiet repose.

Then the poetry flows

to tweak the silence into

breaths between lines.


I have also walked in the

shadows of my mind,

far from the glare of reality,

feeling a cool cavernous comfort

as I embraced the dark side,

in the cathedral of my cranium.


Dreams are icons there,

that we worship nightly,

they exude incense in a

wispy fog that creates


beyond all imagination.

Sleep becomes a

prayer of release,

and we are blessed

with the oblivion of

subconscious journeys,

eyelids rapidly moving,

but closed,

our hearts a flutter

over the bizarre

and the beautiful.


I have done unspeakable,

and fantastic things

in my dreams, not possible

for a mortal man to attempt.


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Comments 2 comments

Michael Shane profile image

Michael Shane 6 years ago from Gadsden, Alabama

Good job MFB!

Debarshi Dutta profile image

Debarshi Dutta 6 years ago from Calcutta

Please give me a few tips..how are so fluid with your language skills..Is it really easy to weave lines and sentences into such visual thoughts like you are able to...effortlessly?

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