They tried to deliver yesterday
a dream with dramatic scenes
invisibly open to interpretation
and inspection by reality.

The inn is too full; determined they came
set on the claim of supremacy
over the needs of the flesh
decreed by me an honourable state.

Tears littered the base of human disgrace
that refused to accept and rejected
dream after dream of soul avowals
tendered as right sufficiency.

I walked through the stream
choosing, you see, simply to not believe
but I am the dreamer who knows
there will always be room for a soul.

But soul for soul, flesh for the flesh,
dreams desolate out in the cold,
until the many miles are crossed
and the dreamers can meet
at a place of complete belief!

Related Poems

• Dream Merchant
• Love’s punishment
• Mystique and Magic
• Betwixt and between
• A smile

I thought for a while it wasn’t meant for me

when he said there’s a corner straight up ahead

but the curious in me looked into that dream

and I saw it sitting there in patient repose

waiting for me to turn into love.

I passed him on the road for he had come that way

and I walked on steadily to reach that state of mind

but weighted down with burdens of numerous kinds

it took a whole lifetime to stand as one triumphant.

I turned then to see if he’d waited for my smile

but like a ghost he’d vanished into the ether of mind

and we stood together there for a number of years

until I knew the time was right to go the way I’d come

and settle in the safety of retail therapy

to weight myself again with things I’ll never own.

But I own my love of him

stuck now like a toad

in the flesh and bones

of an ordinary man

walking, walking, walking,

but not going anywhere

and thinking there is merit

in talking to the trees.

So the moral of the tale is to stay within the known

and not travel round the corner into the realm of soul

for there you’ll find that love sits like a spider does

in constant spin of webs and a sometimes catch of minds.

I was caught, you see, and chewed until made into new

but now today I think what a useless waste of time

better spent in walking into the jaws of lions

and sinking into demise without a knowing smile!

Other Poems by Helen

• The eyes of a woman
• Spirit will
• The aperture between
• Always a sign
• Guinevere

I’m perturbed to awake and find I’m at home 

but then I remember in dreams how I yearn  

and how they entice the lonely to roam.    

     
There are days when I linger half comatose

and days that I live in disbelief, fear, 

but then I remember the book isn’t closed

though fragile and old in this atmosphere.

And so of my dreams they’re completely intact

for love’s energy must refuse solitude

in its need to honour and respect spirit pacts

made always to still human inquietude.

But how restless are we like jitterbugs, fleas,

in the shadow of all we’re not meant to be!

Other Poems by Helen

• A smile
• Moss and “stuff”
• Rooted
• A blanket of cloud
• “Thingamajig”

like the feeling of love with its tempting worth

but it’s only a sense wrapped up in denial

and bound with string of strong self control. 

It hovers and loiters unsure how to shine

when the sun rises up on uncertain minds

scared to breathe in and feel how it burns

and frays the edges of enforced loneliness.

Thick as a cloud preparing to rain

or dismay as it builds no hope for today

the sense of love lies down in a ditch

and covers itself with dirt from the earth.

There it lies waiting those who would go

far from the realms of familiar abodes

to dig and remove and say, “I know you,

you’ve been some time in my unconscious mind.”

And the sense of love rises up from the grave

but only halfway and still covered in pain

till the breeze of reality blows a whirlwind

and spirals it up to the heights of desire.

The sense of love no one can ere see –

but I really don’t know, perhaps it’s just me

sensing and feeling from dreaming nights

what here on the earth is not meant to be!

Other Poems by Helen

• Cyclical Maneuvers
• Thoughts of then and now
• State of grace
• Money! Money! Money!
• A caveman

the midnight of your soul reposes next to me.

A glass for wine, empty, still, indicative of will

reflects from the sky moon’s passionate desire.

Slowly as the rising sun life begins again

to encompass the needs of mankind’s reality

like thunder would split and torment the air

with the promise of rain not meant to fall today.

The heat of no release trails footsteps to the door

and dreams and real entwined run into twilight time

till together in the shadows they merge in memory

and settle in compartments

of the deep unconscious mind.

I cry today for love’s long waywardness

underneath a sky dark and somber like my fear

for night brings no relief or calm of my belief

when reality of day overshadows souls at play.

Languidly at ease – and I pray to be that way

until the hand of time moves everything around

and I drink, drink again, the wine of daily calm!

Other Poems by Helen

• Soon a mountain
• In between the agony
• Just a tree
• Some stories can be true but also maybe not
• Many a day

packed and bound by the free

to make of the day a tearful foray

into the feel of human dismay.

And I cannot say, “No, wrong address”

and never can there be any redress

kindly paid to the dreamer in me

when asleep to perceptions of real.

The dreaming, I know, brings in belief

and dances the dance of relief

but ‘tis really a monster untamed

sent to make a woman enflamed.

Watch out, watch out, monsters abound

but don’t bother with looking around

because nothing hidden can ever be seen

except in an extraordinary dream.

And I dream again, again and again

the feel of a beautiful “then”

enhanced in the confines of mind

that maybe can see into time!

Related Poems

• Dream delivery
• Love’s punishment
• Mystique and Magic
• Betwixt and between
• A smile

To discern the meaning, reason, in this dry and deadly season
a useless chore for sane/insane because love manifests the same
whether true or false, real or dream or simply how I feel.

Unending in its drive to twist the mind awry
the dream recurs, repeats, as if it’s trying to speak
but I listen anyway to whatever comes my way.

Wishes, dreams, hopes or thoughts
and still it comes to nought!

Related Poems

• Dream delivery
• Dream Merchant