Question

Ignorance is bliss.

or is it that

Bliss is ignorance?

That Mental Itch.

Thoughts that strum the imagination.

A tune that hums hauntingly in my mind.

Always words half said; half completed.

Thoughts that are a quick staccato 

and then nothing more than a vibration

I keep on hearing even after the melody dies.

Echoes that turn into memories

While memories turn to bondage

and bondage turns into hopelessness

then hopelessness turns into fear.

That dream tossed to the ground.

A whisper I've tried to ignore.

Never quite grasping

that idea on the edge of my mind.

Like a phantom feeling

You turn but nothing's there.

A shiver across your arms

and a head shake to ignore 

the feeling

that there is something more.

Day 7.2

Pain drifts slowly
through my veins;

Aches that send the
body into silent groans.

Day 7.1

Like a blanket
sleep surrounds me,

Wrapping me into
a lullaby that whispers
"Escape."

Day 6.2

Encircling hands;
metallic clinking,

scraping across concrete.

A key's click echoes,

Metal slithers to the ground.

Day 6.1

A sigh exhaled.
As the mind's storm ends.

Fear relinquishes to Hope,
A New Day.

Day 5.2

Sunlight dancing on
the white ground
beneath my feet.

Soft crunching as
I leave prints behind.

Day 5.1

Thoughts sliding
down a slippery slope.

Careening faster and faster;

Gone before
they were recognized.

Day 4.2

Cold nips my nose
and fingers;

Shifting my feet.

I coach as the horse circles me.

Day 4.1

Specks of white,
dot my battered jacket.

A fleck lands on my cheek;
A Kiss.

Dream (Revised)

My childhood's constant companion;

You taught me to think like a champion.

When I was three

You said follow me.

I grasped your hand

following you into the land

of my sleeping mind's imagination.

Then something, like recognition

Sent you loping.

Now I'm left coping.

You are Goal's flighty cousin;

and you are Imagination's basin,

that creates the world I travel

whilst I also marvel

During sleep's most beautiful promise.

Then whispers echoes in the silence.

My heart aches with dreams forgotten

Which sends my thoughts towards rotten

and then they die as reality captures my heart

Now it seems I've lost the art

To create the tales you told me.

For Dream,

I cannot find you as the knock of

Future echoes in my head.

Day 3.2

Grainy, slightly off-white.
Black type.

Real; in my hands
as I turn a page.

Juniper Tree

I do not envy the tree that keeps its green

Against the savagery of winter.

Long, tenuous, green finger-like leaves

Drooping from slender, reptilian-like branches.

The juniper's green leaves-
A stark contrast to a dull grey landscape.

Its slender trunks are visible through

weeping bunches of branches and leaves.

Leaves that aren't brittle, evergreen needles

but similar to a succulent plant's leaves;

thin, bulbous and bendable.

Pressing against the window

Is the juniper tree;

Does it seek shelter

From brutal winds that 

rock it back and forth?

Does it seek the warmth 

that leeks out

into the bitter cold?

Bark like my skin;

Dry, flaky, because 

winter ravages it

as bark protects 

tender flesh.

With no sun 

to warm them,

leaves curl

 in on themselves.

Day 3.1

Hoof beats barely echo on sand.

-For one breath,

We leave ground behind
 as we fly.

Day 2.2

Quiet munching.

Dark brown eyes
look deep into mine.

My cheek against
soft brown fur.

Day 2.1 (Revised)

(Original)

Cracks in the sky
glowing

through the heavy
cloak

that suffocates humanity
we breathe

(Revised)

The heavy cloak
that suffocates
humanity

fades;

As hope shines
through cracks
made by sunbeams.

Day 1.2 (revised)

(original)
That color
just beyond sight

a blur
of something more

shimmering
on a promise


(revised)

Shimmering promise
of a color;

reassuring there is something-
A blurred memory
of another season.

Day 1.1 (revised)

(Original)

Ice drips
on fingers brittle

scratching
on window cracked

whispers
never heard

just felt


(Revised)

Icy wind carries
a phantom
into the room.

Whispered hope
never heard

just felt.

Leo

Majestic in all he does

A king of the wilds. 

Walking on silent paws

 A warrior of the fields. 

 He does not need to roar

 For his shaggy mane and broad muscles

 Speak volumes to those who watch in the shadows.

 A hunter of the old ways.

Every eye on him as he moves.

Awe ripples through the audience

An oddity that's captured the world

Just by being who he is

The lion is the world's deadliest hunter.

One that people fear

and yet revere.

He prowls without a sound.

Mighty is he who rules the field,

Who takes defeat without lying down.

One purpose on his mind

To be the best there is.

Single focus.

His eyes follow the

elusive prey,

He imagines the glory of success.

Desire to be like him

To be a mighty lion

yet not all can be lions

The world would be so dull if that was all there is

We need the song birds

The fleet footed horse

The happy dog

and the mysterious leopard

I love the lion

For he is a wonderful hunter

Of one minded focus

Loyal to the cause

Yet I will not hunt

as he hunts

For I am not a lion

but a puma who lurks in

The shadows.

Dream

Thuds against the heart

Rolling in my head

Twisting my thoughts 

Into a dance with no rhythm

Whispered in my ear

As I lay nestled in blankets

Eyes fly open

The room echoes silence

The scent of you 

Tickles my nose

Nothing of you remains

For you were never more than

A Dream

Welcome

Welcome:
This is a blog for my Poetry class.
On this blog you will find poems I've written for class as well as some other poems that I've written this semester.
My main blog is http://dreameralways.blogspot.com