My dreams have fangs

My dreams are carnivores, they’re less of knifes
but more from lead. The night’s a lizard harpsichord,
it’s heavy footfalls of ungrateful deads. Outside
owls; my head’s a cockroach nest, it’s spider-
webbed, a sacrificial lamb of my poetry unspent.

Yet, when soot of darkness talons grip my chest
I draw from hope a string of pearls, a pebbled path
that leads with gentle hands my feet on needled
soil towards the break of dawn. To sanity and sense
Awake! And all pretense of dreams and demons wilt.

The desperate man (self portrait) by Gustave Courbet

The desperate man (self portrait) by Gustave Courbet

A little writing preparing for bed linked to Tuesday Platform on toads.

October 11, 2016

11 responses to “My dreams have fangs

  1. Feels like you described my dreams, I especially liked that the motives and images remind me of how I sometimes craft poems, tales and stories and even artworks from remembering my dreams.

  2. I draw from hope …..
    that leads with gentle hands…..
    towards the break of dawn.

    It is nice to be hoping for better things in the morning and to be led gently by someone close! It is most assuring!


  3. It’s often a relief to wake to sanity and sense. To dawn’s awareness. Dad had vivid bad dreams in his last months of life. And kept seeing people that weren’t there. I don’t think I would like that.

  4. First off, I love this picture, of “the desperate man”. We’re it not for the printed title, I could have imagined him waking after a horrific nightmare. Like the one you wrote. Actually, I enjoy a good nightmare, I have so few.

  5. I love the way you have presented the juxtaposition of dreams and reality within the context of the poetic process. There is a wholeness to the poem which I really like.

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