Thursday, July 7, 2011
in dreams
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself.
The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose.
The one who gets her point across but in a more colorful way,
who experiences newness for the sake of transcending the old,
beautiful settings that fall from the sky and say to me
"live here, now", and "live away from there"
I see her sometimes, when she writes herself differently
she's clever and bemused and pitiless.
she's an orphan with a great aunt who is
a millionaire who steals her away from poverty-
but that's someone else, it isn't me.
or is it?
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner....
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but...
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like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
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Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
I think it is what we see in our dreams; that we write in our pages. Nice poem Amy :)
ReplyDeleteBtw, it is your suggested prompt at Haiku Heights this time. Haven't seen you yet. Do share your piece with us too.
WOW! you are n amazing poet! absolutely loved it!
ReplyDeleteI loved the last few sentences especially fabulous
ReplyDeletethat is a cool story! love the metapoetry!
ReplyDeleteHmmm... this goes hand in hand with an old quote: "You are what you 'think' you are"
ReplyDeleteLovely prose, thanks for visiting me.
I like the phrase "steals her away from poverty." There's a double meaning in that, and people often become millionaires by stealing or swindling. I think you're better off as the actual you -- a good writer.
ReplyDeleteVery nice! I often say to someone who reads my work that knows me, oh no it is just a poem. But really I am in there somewhere. Well done.
ReplyDeletebrilliant.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing.
We dwell within everything we write, but especially when it comes from the spirit, like your piece does.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
thanks for your great thoughts guys!
ReplyDeleteI love it, "she's an orphan with a great aunt"........lovely taking these flights of fancy. Well done, kiddo!
ReplyDeletelovely write. I believe there is a part of us in everything we write. thx for stopping by my blog. it ws great seeing you there.
ReplyDeletethanks ladies!
ReplyDeleteWonderful :)
ReplyDeleteLovely and makes one ponder ....thank you
ReplyDeleteClever write! A million thoughts :)
ReplyDeleteA lovely write!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely food for thought !
ReplyDeleteAnd it has been said that poetry/prose mirrors reality ...
~MISH~
http://writer-in-transit.co.za
Beautiful.... lovely imagination...
ReplyDeleteWell Done I loved it, especially your ending, so novel like :D
ReplyDeletethanks Ella, that means a lot!
ReplyDelete