I dreamed of a gathering of Artists
I saw Keats, Monet, Lewis, Dickinson…
I heard John read poetry in a silky tone
Claude’s Clos Normand appeared before me
His obsession was a pure visual feast
I fought through the illusionary perception
to find my way to Clive’s wardrobe
I threw myself to crack open the path of truth
only to meet the coldest deceiving heart
Then, I heard Emily crying out
” Don’t shut the door…”
I don’t want to be awake
from a field of yearning tulips
under the indigo violet sky
I want to stay dreaming of
a future of you and me
in earnest paint brush strokes
waterfalls of poetry
After a solid work day,
I let down the rolled up sleeves
where no bit of poetry is stored.
There was nothing comes to mind.
I opened a bottle of Merlot,
put my feet up with a glass of wine.
Drowse hit me and sent me to slumber.
Vivid dreams filled the landscape of trance.
Faces came into focus from outer space.
Smiles resembles lost lives.
Music played by vegetation saturated in rain.
Air tasted like white figs.
Water ran like marble stress balls in my hand.
When I woke up,
darkness showed her calm face through the window.
My wine sat by the bedside table,
came to live in dark blue on vine.
Was the wine enchanted or I?
in my dream
the sky is clear blue
all the clouds fell
and became petals
the golden sun
split it’s rays
a field of daisies
dancing like the chime
made of sea shells
swaying like the waves
in my dream
in a sea