Category: Syllable Tapestries

2017, dreams, notes, Syllable Tapestries, thoughts

Beautiful day

emorywolf3

Beautiful day
The sun was open
Shining down
Dusk was the same
Instagram
Took a nap
Had a dream
of something coming on my face
Dragged myself in the house
And to the bed.

At work the next day
People kept asking
Me two questions.
Did my power go out cause of the storm?
And what was the cut above my eyebrow?

What storm?
The day was beautiful
From my perspective.

And as for the cut above my eyebrow.
Well didn’t know it was there.
Not a mirror person.
Can a dream hurt You?

The next morning
I went out on the porch
To drink my Apple cider
Before I got ready for work
I noticed a broken plate
Where I had been lying on the porch
Gazing at the sky
The night before last
And the potted plant
That had been on it
Beside it
Dirt everywhere.

Then I put it all together.
Man,
Dreams can hurt you.

POETRY, Syllable Tapestries

Tear

emorywolf3

What is this?
This fluid, which stains my check?
The dictionary interprets the tear
as a clear saline liquid secreted from the lachrymal gland
lubricating the surface between eyeball & eyelid.

The scientist insists on theory,
on hypnosis.
How do I support it?
Can’t.
It’s just a sense.
Tears are not for lubrication of the eyes,
but lubrication of the soul.

Is there a connection between love and tear?
How laborious is love?
I snatch the realization,
having squandered my tears,
my love has been consequently trivial
for nothing ever came from it.

Forgiveness?
Forgiveness is not what I quest.
Compassion?
How could anyone be aware of the wind?
I, who am so difficult to love,
gaze across the room.
It seems there is only one
who is capable of such a burden.
Sun isn’t willing to cry;
So Moon gave me a tear.

POETRY, Syllable Tapestries

Don’t Hit Me

emorywolf3

Sugar and Spice
Whiskey and Beer,
kept me from having those nightmares.
Those dreams
The failures.
The visions
The lies
The truths

Every thought
is swift and intense,
as if every letter and character
were put here to torment me.
But what can I say?
Appears to be
nothing.
Life
is a world all unlooked for,
beloved
yet tormented.

Don’t hit me.

POETRY, Syllable Tapestries

Yellow Rose 2

emorywolf3

I want to tell you,
what the ocean knows.
Love is endless;
a hard untied knot.

Silent tapestries
depict the history of our love.

The finite:
the pocket of your vest,
the rose,
your mouth
hardens
as the edges of your eyebrows lift.

-I did not make you feel that way.

Oh, but you did. you were the catalyst

The yellow rose:
a contradiction
carefully understood
though further perceived
becomes ambiguously forward,
vibrating,
forming wakes which dance along the shore line.

Why must love
take on such ridiculous tones?

POETRY, Syllable Tapestries

The Dream I Had

emorywolf3

The dream:
I walked endlessly.
Eyes lids raised.
The river was long.
Tar stained my feet black,
and tears, my checks.
How many times did I dock
and ask for a little clarity on the matter.

I am bequeathed only a hug,
a word
& a soft kiss.
I drift
farther
uncertain of its intensity.

I built such a beautiful picture
Of what life should….
Be.
Oh…the house.
What a place.
The garden was marvelous:
A fluttering dream.
But for some reason
I can’t get out of it.