to dream of love…

It’s ok to dream of love –

to need is not to fail,

to want is not a weakness.

So why do I think ill

of it?  Ill of me?

Why is it that longing

feels ungrateful?

Does needing make me

incomplete?

Why does seeking seem

so faulty

naughty, even greedy?

Does wanting it all

make me needy?

But its ok to dream of love…

 

Isn’t it?

 

Does dreaming of love

put one in conflict

with loving ones own self?

Conflict

with ones own mental health?

In seeking there is

every chance

of never finding

sweet romance,

yet is that enough

to never seek it?

Or an excuse

never to be weak

and open to the hurt

of being human?

What matters more-

the pedestal

of lonely and unbreakable

uninvaded shore?

Or the chance

of being wounded

in the search,

sullied in the conquest,

with the unknown possibilities

of victory,

the prize of

the unshakable… Love?

 

It’s ok to dream of love…

 

to lose is to participate

rather than like a

damsel wait

and wilt, and wither thin.

The capstone on the vault

she entered without fault

buried for eternity therein

“for fear of doing any sin

she failed to do at all.”

 

Let it not be said of me!  I will dream of love.

 

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Wicked Little Wisp

Last night I had a dream

that has begun to haunt my day

a visit from a little wisp

with claim that she was here to stay.

The little wretch was cute

in the way small things can be

but the closer that you looked

the clearer you could see

that the little thing was darkness

and her wings were tattered skin

she smelled like burning evil

and her words were full of sin.

She flew around my fingers

and up around my face

saying “get used to me lass

because your life is my place.”

Try as I might to shake her

I couldn’t make myself free

but she flew up to my fighting shoulder

and stung me like a bee.

I slapped her and defied her

as her fluttering wings from hell

tore up the air around me

and rose a stormy spell.

I prayed God get me loose

from this awful little witch,

get her out of my head

and let me dream without a glitch.

Sleep would not return

and so I rising sat

and saw my dogs had gone to town

and pooped all over the mat.

I came downstairs and found

another awesome mess and more

of soap dribbled through a grocery bag

to puddle on the floor.

As I bent to clean the messes

my dog raised his leg again

and honest to goodness it took all of me

to not murder and skin him.

As I wiped and cleaned and corrected

the pain up in my shoulder

throbbed and ached and gave a sense

of muscles getting older.

But then it came to mind

that right in that spot I’d had

a fairy sting the night before

by the wisp that I’d made mad.

The morning rolled on forward

and other matters shown

to be broken, spilled or not quite right

as I plodded on alone.

When finally I bewildered sat

with coffee to a chair

I drew a line upon the day

and made it very clear.

“Little malevolent spirit

my life is not your home

but my day belongs to me

and to my Lord alone.

To save your rotten wings

I suggest you fly away

before he rises with the sun

and burns you into yesterday.”

Visit

© Ryan Esson, 2011

Last night I kissed you in my sleep
And whispered in your ear,
I crossed the ocean far and deep
On a butterfly of air.
I crept into your window
And slipped between your sheets,
I snuggled right into your curve
And joined our two heartbeats.
But just as my lips touched your face
A bird took me away!
Sun climbed into my backyard
And called me to my day.

Something I found in my archives…

Skipping Stars

Today she found out who she was
and what a fool you are
to waste the dream you chanced upon
when you stumbled on a star.
You picked it up with awe
figured… nah… it couldn’t be
and like a common pebble
you skipped it out to sea.

Out on the open ocean
the ball of flame still burned
shining further from your reach
you felt your stomach turn.
The damage is now done-
too late you realize
the best thing ever in your hand
just vanished from your eyes.

But the star burns on and brightly
as it floats out on the sea
and shores and boundaries give way to
endless possibility…
The star inside her thanks you
for throwing her away
to a place where she could grow
to the SUN she is today.

Found some of my scribbles that I’d tucked away somewhere.  Will probably post them here and there as they come to me.  Not to worry, I have not gone back on The Resolution!  Just a few reminders here and there why I made it in the first place. 

Mango Dreams

© Brent Mclennon, 2011

What woke me three minutes before my alarm was the taste of mango in my mouth and the smell of star apple in the air.  The senses were so overwhelmed that I stretched in bliss, hit the bed-head, and woke up smiling.  Actually smiling.  Three minutes before my alarm.  Small miracle.

I was with a group of friends on a visit to Jamaica and we were being driven cross-country.  I had six weeks off from work and had left the work blackberry at home so the little red dot wouldn’t drive me insane.  We had driven from Kingston through St. Catherine, ever climbing, through Manchester’s mountains, and down the corkscrew of Spur Tree Hill into St. Elizabeth.  In the mountains of St. Bess we stopped at a road-side fruit stand.  None of this actually happened in the dream, but isn’t it strange how dreams come with their own memories and knowledge like a zip file?

In the dream my friends were negotiating with the language of Yorkshire and of Kent over bananas and sliced pineapples with an wide-eyed-with-awe country-man and tasting sugar-dense naseberries for the first time when a car pulled up.  I was called away by name and turned to find an old friend from my high-school days.  He was holding the biggest mango I had ever seen and looking very handsome.  (Probably because of the mango.)  He pulled off the road to speak to me and I remember lamenting to him that it wasn’t star apple season.  He laughed and pointed up to the tree above my head and, as if commanded by his finger, ripening star apples appeared and filled the air with a heady syrup that hit the tongue through the nose.

My magical friend gave the vendor his mango, asked him to slice it in half.  The mango had no seed! He then reached up to pick the nearest star apple.  When my teeth sank into the mango I woke up.

Smiling.  Three minutes before my alarm.

Love my l-i-f-eee until it leff meee

This morning I love my life.  Last night I had sushi with “the V” in it – did I tell you my best friend is a Nutter with a capital N?  Then a lightning storm came and the lights went out.  Right before I woke up this morning I dreamed I was in Jamaica.  And now, coffee cup in hand, I am fresh back from the twice-daily walk with Lola and Julius, a constant and regularly scheduled reminder that my mess really doesn’t stink – at least not like theirs. What more could a girl need?