All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream
By Edgar Allan Poe
When the faintest flames in gloom is all
we see, or the sounds in silence that
seem frantic as the weight of death we
carry as a part of life; or we might see
the sun reflected in the face of moon or
watch as shadows play on walls that seem
imagined threats but deep inside we feel is
dread, as nightmares leave a scar but
then at dawn the claws suppresses to an itch, a
scab on skin, the trace of nails from dream
from beats of beasts, from forges deep within.
We know chimeras are sincere, for real, a
substance nor from needles nor from dream.
Kerry wants us to play with related words, rhymes, words stemming from the same, synonyms or Antonyms at toads. I have tried to use them all, and at the same time write a Golden Shovel poem based on two lines from Poe.
May 13, 2016