High Upon the Dream Scene

Solomon Shandy

Write a strange poem, he says.  Sort of inspired by the hype and hip of Sharon Bryan’s “Sweater Weather: A Love Song to Language.”  (I am stopping before I feel this poem is really finished–I am stuck in the web of the poem and I think that I have learned from it what I wanted to learn.)

High upon the dream scene,
water golden, meadow green,
shadows calling, day is falling,
where you wander unseen.

From the inky shadows ooze
spectres that you did not choose
wraiths are creeping, nightmares leaping
into dreamtime’s twisting blues.

In the maze you race and blunder,
running from the sound of thunder.
Heart is pounding, rest confounding,
caught within the spell you’re under.

I can’t seem to get out of this poem–I guess that’s how the nightmares roll.  But I need to get on with my day, so I am going to just stop here.  I did love the way the rhythm and the rhyme scheme sort of defined themselves as I wrote.

Gratitude List:
1. Labyrinths.  I have been under a compulsion again lately to doodle them.  After an experience last week in which I felt like someone was trying to stuff me into a claustrophobic little box, I think my default was to head into the labyrinth for safety.
2. Sitting on the chair in the sun this morning, with a small person reading to me.
3. Fall veggies.
4. Generosity.  Local folks gave over six million dollars yesterday to organizations that offer care and hope to the world.  I am proud of this community.  My shaken faith in humanity is being rebuilt.
5. Breathing love into the wounds.

May we walk in Beauty!


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