Poems from our dreams.

/
4 mins read
woman lying in brown grass mirror edited photo
Photo by lucas souza on Pexels.com

I woke from a powerful dream hearing the voice of my first husband from so long ago. He was asking me to call him. I started to write everything down and it seemed that only poetic words could make any sense. Our dreams say more than we think…………………….

A message to call you is buried in a night of dreams

There is a child involved, it seems amongst this confusion.

I cannot take it or care for it as your mother declared an intrusion

 a will,

an illusion.

Were we at the bottom of the hill thinking we are going somewhere, still?.

Call me, I heard, they were the words from a place I knew little of,

but amazingly felt

full of love.

only urgency pushed and thrusted through my blood,

a cold pain kept me on the edge of a seat

We had already flown through our youth wiped clear of our futures ready to meet. Ready to greet.

How wrong we were in the shadows of that mocking cathedral,

 that shook and towered over us like a monster of evil.

God It lied to us both regardless of our sincere devotion. We kneeled with simple acceptance of what we believed was true to say. And they rang the bells of time hoping we would stay.

Then love fell back into a road of where they said it should be. Minds changed and upside on the gutter Thrown away like clutter and valueless like crumpled paper torn,

was me.

Crumpled by their righteousness, never looking at the sky or the sun in the clouds They worshipped the crowds of blindless believers laughing out loud and lead to deceive us.

Your voice is calling in the night as I rush to the train. Call me are your words repeating again.

But what takes the time that has passed now?

There is no returning, and should the passengers decline to board the train will we fade into miniscule importance sinking without shame or learning.

This child on the seat sings a beautiful song as she wraps her arms around me for a brief moment we belong. She smells familiar and clings to my arm.

This angel of comfort reminds me of harm.

I can sing as if this can only be in heaven or in a dreamy sleep I have been a mother reminiscent,  I see pictures and listen to memories I keep.

Within this fast-moving carriage taking me to foreign lands. I sense we are too late

Over gravelled uneven ground we clamber to our fate over mountain tops and towards heaven’s gate we stop,admire the view.

Up here the sun still in the clouds, we can travel on our own and write the words that drift up from my soul alone.

She hugs me and I sing in tune with her affection. It is the perfect pitch combined with connection.

We are the only listeners and she is taken with the rest.

She is gone to Berlin feeling torn from my chest

I am reminded I need to call you by 7.30 but it is too late

I tell them it is too late and you may have already gone. I thought you would not wait

My dream subsides and I try to trap my waking

the significance of your call in my thoughts is breaking.

Are you still there?

Don’t go.

woman lying in brown grass mirror edited photo
Photo by lucas souza on Pexels.com

Hiya, I am Lauren, a lifestyle traveller, writer and health Nerd. Due to lockdown I decided to get on with writing my blog and catching up with friends new and old. I believe we are one world that for most of us wants to promote peace and goodwill to each other, wherever you are in the world I wish you well. I hope we connect and share our stories.

Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Previous Story

My mind is made up. It’s time to go traveling again.

Next Story

Pink Pageant. Poartry

Latest from Blog

What, this old thing?

‘I love your top‘. said the bubbly voice projecting compliments, stunned and taken aback, the apologetic…

0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x