Water


Waking by the lakeside
where water walked
like a messiah.

A river takes in snake’s wind
hawk’s reflection
in the mire.

Liquor danced around
the ashen clouds
sickly somersaults on higher.

Cascading down
in fluid’s ribbon shrouds
silver sunk cerulean’s perspire.

Can you hear the liquid sanctify
all below in their desire?

Can you taste the juices amplify
the knowing font’s admire?

When the waters swell
their waying courses
will you wait with all damned liers?

Or, wish upon them well
like snowy horses
wavely crest’s fall before sand’s ire?

A dream I had said, “Break nigh
simply bend forked
by trident’s wetly wire.”

It curled crashing o’er forsaked eyes
a flooding torrent wrought
as I awoke by the lakeside
where water walked
like a messiah.


© poormansdreams



The Tunnels of Leen


Water dug a new slipstream.

Caught running through stunned
Was me
Spun in this dream.

Down sleepy funnels extreme
Round freecoming blues.

By the tunnels of Leen.

A cormorant drying
It’s wings by a bank
Without need for green
Nor worry or thank.

Whispered, “I’m flying
While you all are sank.”
I smile
With dank pockets
Empty
And lank.

Brown trout and an eel
Carp, tench and a bream
All proudly swum t’ward me
In a fashion much pleased.

They shout..

“You might well be sunken
But at least you are free
Like a soothsayers unction
Rolls their tongue
Comes a sea.”

I responded..

“Yes, when I am sunken
I’ll return to the turf
Either dusty or shrunken
While you bask in the surf.
Aft asunder, I’ll meet you
Again by the stream
In no wonder I’ll greet you
By the tunnels of Leen.”

© poormansdreams



A sinking feeling


The ever swelling sea

Is a discomfort blanket sloshing

Whispers woe by telling me,

“Innocent bodies will need washing.”


The rain clouds dark and dusky

Frown upon each town and city

With a thunderous tone so husky

Pitter patter has turned to pity.


Breaking banks without a penny

Snaking slalom; this rising river

Floods the hearts and souls of many

Destructive venom is delivered.


Questions for those with plenty…

Your thirst is quenched –

What remains?

A glass half full?

Or just empty?

As loss asphyxiates the gains.