Dream

I dream lace in flames
embers rise to the night skies
and become the stars

doncella de la noche

her dance of desire
at the altar of moonlight
no saint would resist

Butterfly

I awoke from the dream
the dream of a cornflower butterfly
and the pure white rose
and in my reverie of wings
the petals opened to embrace
with a delicacy of scented grace
my hopeful painted heart of fragility

10 Line Imaginings

in velvet did I dare to dream
of the silken warmth it spelled
and submitted willingly
to the little death it held
for me beyond the passioned kiss
the slumbered reveries promised
my fate was sealed in this embrace
that in waking I did taste
still its perfume in my bed
and fantasy fast in my head.

Dream Figure

among a thousand ravens wings
death walked the field
his cloak soaked blood from the soil
upon which souls did yield
their lives to axe and spear and sword
and hatred without sense
but this dark figure judged them not
he sought just recompense

Dream 21.8.19

death visited
he was passing through town
and thought he’d drop by
we exchanged pleasantries
I offered tea and cake
as courtesy requires
he asked about the family
I commented on
how chipper he seemed
we talked about football
and film stars and climate change
how the summer was a washout
but perhaps September
would surprise us
quite civilised,
our intercourse
but still
I felt obliged
to check the family silver
once he’d said “au-revoir”

The Serpent Fails (a dream)

the golden apple
heavy on the dreamer’s bough
just out of reach
bruised with answers
to questions from its very core
sleep, serpentine
coils and climbs, then slips
distracted.
A branch falls,
the tree dissolves
into the dust of breaking dawn
and all knowledge is lost.

Dream

I dreamt of three poets
in the wilderness
of hues of greens and reds
a colourwheel of words
and promise
spinning in my head
or were their reveries
of me
sleeping in my bed
perhaps it is not
they, the dream,
but i’m the dream
instead?

Waking

the stranger
came again at dawn
his arrival
heralded by waking reverie
and as his hand
reached out for mine
a cold unearthly
stole all memory
of the dream
which had foretold
how our brief society
would end.

The Dream

her silhouette among the blackbirds
their wings scattered petals
a dark flower of imagined poses
the statue of countless form
held still, yet not
from moonlight torn.