Disclaimer: These poems are copyrighted; they belong to the poet (that would be me). Do not borrow them without my permission.
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Sounds swirl around and images dance in and out of time where space and limits have no meaning Reality seems to weave in and out of a blanket of Technicolor thoughts and rhythmic pulsations of my cerebral impulses Unreality moves as swiftly as a stream as it winds its way around over rocks and through majestic trees of green Images as clear as a gentle storm washing over window panes dance in front of my eyes Images as blurry as vision when tears drown out sight stumble and trip through my mind There always seems to be a constant, a presence of strength causing butterflies to flutter above, over, and through me That presence can appear as fast as millions of glimmering pixels flashing into the conscious Or that presence can be a feeling, like someone watching and waiting Visualizing is not a problem, but this ghostly apparition can move like a phantom in the night, a cat in the jungle When it is near, how safe I feel When its far away, I feel a loss so deep But this is only a dream... Only a dream... Fire dances in front of my eyes, the universe shining inside of them like a tiny cosmos of mystery Comfort surrounds me like a warm blanket, like strong arms A swirling mass of whiteness covers the world in glittering diamonds The smell of wood is so strong in the air It is as tangible as having Nature running through your veins like a stream It is like roots wrapping themselves around rocks and soil to anchor Stability... Quiet... Peacefulness... A fragrance wafts in my nostrils a scent like heaven a scent like Nature a scent as sweet as honey a scent that is as soft and as warm as a teddy bear A gentle caress moves past my ear, past my neck, past all that is me to reach deep inside of me for my soul I want to feel more but sleep is wrestled from me again It was a dream... It was only a dream... Purity is something so hard to maintain The pain of keeping the pureness, the virginal whiteness of something can be unbearable But its not a physical hurt nor is it a mental hurt 'Tis a hurt of frustration of wanting to spend the leisure time of wanting to spend the day basking in the sun Love is as pure as having faith in a higher being: it must be believed it must be cherished it must be constantly maintained in order for it to keep its purity When love is near, grab onto it with both hands Feel the soft skin, the creamy skin wash over your fingers as smooth as molasses Hunger for the taste... Caress... Kiss.. But is this a passing thought in my head Is this a reality Or am I just... Dreaming... 11/19/97 |