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Dreams

It’s a new week already!  That means it’s time for the open links at Real Toads and d’Verse Poets.

dead flower in wine glass

The little things that
bump and grind
spawning dark thoughts
in the recesses of my mind;
wayward children
trying to force fruition,
more and more disobedient,
refuse to let me alone.
The chasm looms,
deep and foreboding,
dragging me into a
dank dark black hole,
no escape from dreams
ignored.

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17 thoughts on “Dreams

  1. Pingback: Death’s Wife | Words I Paint

  2. I love that your dreams & thoughts bump & grind into each other. When they interrupt your sleep, yes – they are like disobedient children. This is a beautifully wrought poem. Love the picture, too.

  3. “The little things that
    bump and grind
    spawning dark thoughts
    in the recesses of my mind”

    I often wonder where some of my thoughts come from, so you had me right from the beginning with those first few lines. Thoughts are random by nature, & if we can capture them, well, that’s poetry.

  4. Wow, Teresa ~~ This poem seems on first start of reading to be slow and dreamy. But hang on, it is fast after all! Now, I know that there is a balance between our dreams and reality. If dreams overpower reality one is hurting. But your dreams are so alluring, …
    ..

    • This kind of dream seems quite frightening. I would not like to contemplate being in a dank, dark, black hole. Your poem has a lot of atmosphere.

  5. And if these bumps and grinds ceased, I’m sure the narrator would miss them! She might try bringing a flashlight into that dark hole to provide focus light and space now and then. The dark hole in your poem could be more friendly and womb-like ….

  6. Glad you like the picture. I have it in full color on my farm blog, but it was too cheerful for the poem.

    Lots of dreams seem to be demanding my attention right now, poetry is only one. Sadly, reality keeps stomping on them.

  7. Our thoughts(and dreams and memories and all that sort of stuff) do rule more of our lives and moods than we sometimes think, often more than the events of the so-called ‘real world.’ Your photo is amazing and suits this poem perfectly, Teresa.

  8. I think you may be referring to poems here…”those wayward children trying to force fruition”
    Let them out, and in the light of day, their darkness will be dispelled.

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