My dream of summer
The wind that leaves the window blinds quivering
The rain that never seems to stop
I fall asleep dreaming of the streets
Covered with deep puddles
I have to skirt around the children
They are jumping in and out, laughing,
Shouting, their faces wet and glowing.
It is summer.
Once upon a time the distance
Between thoughts is eternity
Time has changed
The distance has narrowed
One thought can almost touch the other thought
Yet we ourselves are getting apart
Much farther then ever before
The noises are ever present
And everywhere, no places
Where quietness reigns
Humanity is diminishing like insects
Information floods and displaced truth
The mind is restless and occupied
Not a moment stilled for self reflection
We are walking statues
Blind and deaf to directions
Or how far is self destruction?
“Hatefulness is everywhere.”
Once, I asked you
If you have a map
You smiled and I smiled
We both knew the answer
And we were silent, our faces blank
We walked away sad
With tears in our eyes.
To go far, to do a little
More, we need
To walk together.
When I am old and grey
Grapes allowed to remain on the vines
Pages worn but alive
Weather drawn but sweet
Ancient and not too poor in wisdom
Will you sit by me?
We can listen together
Stories of your wandering.
And are you still playing
Beethoven’s later piano sonatas?
How do you tell a story without interruption?
Can you remain silent after every question?
Will rain be a violation of silence?
Walk quietly when walking inside yourself.
The day is raining and windy
I’m walking, holding an umbrella over my head
I’m arguing gainst my thoughts
I think of Hamlet,restless, talking to himself
the ghost and skull behind him
She says she will not be home when I arrive
The day is swiftly gathering darkness
And I’m trying to understand how
an umbrella breaks in a day like today.
Note: I was assured by dog’s handler that it’s a calm dog. It’s a French bulldog.
I am walking to the river.
Sometimes I whistle when I walk Inviting the breeze to come.
The birds whistle to each other.
They hide within the branches of the trees when it rain.
Their wings become heavy when wet.
Some places flood when it rains.
Places next to a river.
Houses along a river.
Even after repeated floods people don’t want leave.
Some mountains have frequent fires.
People who live there also don’t want to move to another plane.
Some people have perseverance.
They have courage to resist.
The cool breeze comes.
I continue my walk.
Sometimes I think of you. I wonder of what you are doing.
I will see you on Thursday.
note:Color my heart with cookies.
I have been reading a lot of philosophy related books lately. I’m enjoying what I’m learning but my poetry is suffering.
My reading choices are not conducive to writing images. Even the fiction I’m reading at present relates more to philosophy and arguments.
For now I don’t have poetic ideas or poetic moments. It’s a whiteout like the weather in the East Coast.