Poem
There was this poem in my dream. What it was all about I can't recall. I just remember the feelings I had of the poem. Haunting, melodic, falling and overflowing. These were the words that came to mind for the images in my dream were not that much. This poem was a feeling poem.
At some point, words started spilling out and there I had my poem, written on paper. It was not finished, the poem. I remember as the poem wrote itself on paper, just before the last word on the last line of the last stanza, it all became a blurry sea of words. The words then slowly came afloat, one by one, from the paper they were written on. Slowly, rhythmically, up and down, from side to side, hovering on top of the paper.
Then slowly, the words came pouring back down. In trickles, falling into place, a poem writing itself, again, with ink, on paper. Then just before the last word of the last line on the last stanza, the poem stopped writing and dissolved into a sea of words. Haunting, melodic, falling and overflowing, what it was all about I can't recall. It was just there, in my dream, the poem on my mind.
Filed Under: Stuff
At some point, words started spilling out and there I had my poem, written on paper. It was not finished, the poem. I remember as the poem wrote itself on paper, just before the last word on the last line of the last stanza, it all became a blurry sea of words. The words then slowly came afloat, one by one, from the paper they were written on. Slowly, rhythmically, up and down, from side to side, hovering on top of the paper.
Then slowly, the words came pouring back down. In trickles, falling into place, a poem writing itself, again, with ink, on paper. Then just before the last word of the last line on the last stanza, the poem stopped writing and dissolved into a sea of words. Haunting, melodic, falling and overflowing, what it was all about I can't recall. It was just there, in my dream, the poem on my mind.
Filed Under: Stuff
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