waterfalls – poorman'sdreams

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

I’m the waters; still —

running.

Oozing was Hebridean sorcery
outslipt liquid’s shaman
her name is, Sligeachan,
to her neigh-bours.

At, Shelly’s Place,
where silver foam horses sleep
alongside uisce enablers
drams canter at pace.

Whilst waterfalls slipstream
down the rocks to the basin
pooled equestrian dreams
plunge crashed stony abrasion.

As wishing-well goes
lifeforcing pucas and kelpies.
Missing spells flow
proof’s unliving to help me.

My well-wishing legs, froze
time slowed with the waters; still —

running.

To cascades wet, crispy-cold
inside, Sligeachan’s song,

caught;

myself: humming.

I became the waters;

Two of Sligeachan’s horses,

One of Shelly’s placed sons and daughters.

I’m the waters; still —

running.

© poormansdreams