Dreamscapes: Poetry Written Through A Vision

As I sit here and wonder where to go with my words, I have a million and one thoughts that would like to emerge. Should I write about my sadness once again? Or should I try to write about a happy side, that for me, is so hard to find within?

I’m not sure what you would like to hear; a true thought in clear form; Or, maybe, a clever little play on words to enjoy?

So, I will just sit with my eyes peacefully shut, and pull out my inner reflection through a dreamscape vision. I will let my thoughts fly upon the wings of a butterfly and take them to that special spot in my mind. There they will flow out in brilliant scenes, and then I shall return and write for you one of many things ; a creative tale through my imagination of whims and a speckle of truth sprinkled within.

dream·scapeˈdrēmskāp/nounnoun: dreamscape; plural noun: dreamscapes

a landscape or scene with the strangeness or mystery characteristic of dreams.

Black as night, and quiet

as death, I can hear my

own silence with every

footstep.

In the distance, I see a

glare of light, ever

so faintly it burns in the

dark.

Walking faster, my heart

beats loud, I make it

to the light and step out.

I gasp as I catch myself

before I go over the

edge. I grab hold of

a metal rail before I

slip into another

mystery realm.

The wind is whipping. My

jaws are shaking. I can’t

see what’s down there,

the fog disguises without

breaking.

My hands start to slip;

I can't hold on. Where

will I land in this place

unknown?

The tips of my fingers

finally give way, and

now I am falling to

where, I don’t know,

but I feel in slow motion

like Alice down the

rabbit hole.

I wake to horns blowing,

and I lift up my head.

I look over to the left,

and there he is.

A smile that I notice, as

he looks my way, then I

groggily turn toward the

front; we are in a car

driving away.

When I turn back, I try to

ask; where are we at?

However, he softly puts

one hand over my lips and

shush ins me to silence

my mouth.

I’m back, he said, as he

stares my way.

No, you left for good

this time, I say. I know

this because I prayed

our love would finally

fade.

And as God so often

makes the thunder

roar; his smile turned

to anger as we came

to a hard halt.

Don’t ever say that, he

hastily said…

then he started to drive

once again, reciting

to me his same-old

promises all over again.

This time will be different

you just wait and see. I

will not leave you for

No one…nothing.

I feel trapped now in

a familiar dream, of

fighting to love

someone I know

cannot love me.

My mind races as we

drive down the road,

there’s nothing on the

sides, but beautiful

fields of gold.

Do I stay here and

keep driving with him,

knowing this road we’re

on has no end…

or shall I jump out and

run through the field,

fighting to leave his

strong appeal?

Panic and confusion are

swimming my brain, but

somehow I manage to

make my escape...

I leap out fast, and roll

down a small hill, into

the field of new hope?

I feel.

I won't look back, as

I hear my love yell…

Don’t do this to us, we

can make it work. I swear.

I run so far as the tears

soak my cheeks, the

golden barley slapping

my face.

I’m exhausted as I have to

stop; I’m in the middle of

nowhere. I am lost.

I fall down onto my knees,

and roll over to lay in the

breeze, as the barley softly

flows all around me.

I start to drift off as dusk breaks

the day, and I cannot hold

out anymore; I must sleep.

Even so, I feel something strange

in the air; a voice, a whisper,

that recites this verse;

sleep on my child, you have given

enough, when you awaken,

you will no longer be lost…

This was a difficult piece for me to write. I tried hard to write it exactly how I visualized it, and in words that could be understood clearly. In that way, I found myself changing it up several times trying to get the scenes precise and correct. I'm not sure I accomplished this. I don't know how this poem will sound. It was a type of experiment I came up with for myself. I know the writers here that know me pretty well, will know that I like to come up with different, weird, ways to put a poem down. It's just something I try to do. It's all an art form to me. I like to explore my intelligence. lol.

I hope all who stop by to read this will appreciate the process I put myself through and will be able to relate to my unique art form. I also take a good bit of time picking music to place with my poems. If you read these poems without listening to the music, I encourage you to read them again with the songs playing. To me it always gives a better feel to the story. God Bless!