word SHADE in our poetic
endeavor today at dVerse.
I've added a bonus haiku.
Submitted to dVerse Poetics
August 8, 2017
I’m a dreamer by day and a thinker by night and,
when I lay me down to sleep, will-o-the-whispers
wander in and out of my thoughts in a rustle of
satin and silken swish, flinging words and phrases
like tangled skeins spun by some shape-shifter’s
loom. Carousels and chapel bells, cowboy boots
and vagabond’s loot, lamp shades and nines of spades,
ballet slippers and champagne sippers, smooth talkers
and sky walkers drift through my mind on their way
to some future poetic adventure. Occasionally there
springs from this abyss of word salad a midnight
epiphany worth recording in my bedside journal.
Once words are committed to paper, the nightly
marathon ends and I’m allowed to drift into blessed
slumber. Ah, the glorious sleep of an octogenarian
would-be poet! Bliss.
***********
Sleep is slow to come
Slumber is inhibited
Til midnight epiphany
***********************
Love everything about this post and most especially
ReplyDelete"will-o-the-whispers
wander in and out of my thoughts in a rustle of
satin and silken swish, flinging words and phrases
like tangled skeins spun by some shape-shifter’s
loom. "
Smiling I am.....so my only question is this....when the epiphany comes upon you and you write it down, do you ever wake up in the morning unable to read your drowsy script? I keep my journal in the study so by the time I stumble into that room and turn on the light, my hand is a little more steady :)
Funny you ask, Lillian. I often wonder what some future person might think of my little journal, and the hopeless scribbles therein. I'm sure I'm the only one who could decipher them!
DeleteI especially like the abyss of word salad. It describes most of my dreams. I sleep journal too. Sometimes important things come as a night vision.
ReplyDeleteNice sound to this. Thinking at night and dreaming during the day sounds like the way to do things. The "would-be" can be removed since you are a poet.
ReplyDeleteOkay... I tried that sleep journal thing. I had NO IDEA in the morning what I wrote, or what I had in my rattled brain when I awoke to scribble.
ReplyDeleteBummer! Sorry it doesn't work for you. I don't wake up to scribble, though, the words rocket through my head and keep me from going to sleep until I write them down!
Deletewill-o-the-whispers
ReplyDeletewander in and out of my thoughts in a rustle of
satin and silken swish, flinging words and phrases
like tangled skeins spun by some shape-shifter’s
loom. "
Oh, I love that and so relate to it. I think some of my better poetry has been when the shape-shifter kicked me out of bed and made me write the darn poem.
A magical midnight drift. I imagine this is just a well written flight of a poet.
ReplyDeleteYou are so imaginative Bev with the words on their poetic adventure ~ I sleep blissfully, too tired to remember the words that will visit me ~ I normally write first thing when I wake up ~
ReplyDeleteFor years I kept a sleep journal, but during the light of day. i was like reading Jabberwocky prose' made me smile, but never roused a Muse.
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness; I am dying over this:
ReplyDelete"will-o-the-whispers
wander in and out of my thoughts in a rustle of
satin and silken swish"
Gorgeous!
Love love love:
"Carousels and chapel bells, cowboy boots
and vagabond’s loot"
Hearts for the haiku, as well. :)
I know this scenario so well and you've portrayed it perfectly, Bev, especially in the lines:
ReplyDelete'when I lay me down to sleep, will-o-the-whispers
wander in and out of my thoughts in a rustle of
satin and silken swish, flinging words and phrases
like tangled skeins spun by some shape-shifter’s
loom' - superb!
This poem screams to be read aloud! It is just wonderful, Bev!
ReplyDeleteThis poem has its own rhythm of the night, and what a wonderful array of guests and visitors. I am enthralled.
ReplyDeletewill-o-the-whispers
ReplyDeletewander in and out of my
thoughts in a rustle of
satin and silken swish
Fantastic word-craft Beverly. You are so lucky to be able to bring them out into words when others practically forget them in the morning!
Hank
Something about it is very soothing...like reaching home, the muse and the comfy slumber at the end. Somehow you took me back to my maternal home...thank you!!
ReplyDelete