night watches

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems ~ ee cummings

they filter down through dreams

and spaces held open urge

me to leap from sitting

brilliant light pierces my dark

being taught to outride

that quiet space

honoring the shy shore-fishing

heron focus deep and yet so light

they could slip through the finest

strainers and the only place

to land is in this fertile

mind soil or else flutter across

the high ceiling of the house

of my consciousness like dust

swirling in the noon light

begging to be put down

before swept away in that frenzy

of cleaning before night

descends once more

flashlight in hand patrolling

these prolific inky places.


Inspired by a prompt at dversepoets to write a poem about the ee cummings quote above.  I have never written in ee cummings style, but I tuned in this morning and wrote the previous poem (on the cutting edge) before I saw this prompt.  So that’s going on.

Running away with me

This house appears in my dreams

regularly, unexpectedly —

so many levels and I am drawn

to the very highest floor, a beautiful space

with wooden ornately carved walls,

ceilings and floors, a relic

it seems from an earlier time.

There are secret niches

and rooms you can open if you know

just where to press the panel.

No one else ever seems to know this place

and so they make themselves comfy

in the lower levels, spacious rooms

with little reading alcoves

and a ballroom for dancing.

When I awaken, sometimes

I reconstruct it in my imagination

losing all the significant messages

I am trying to tell myself

and instead focusing on architecture.

In both realms, waking and dreaming,

it is a diving board

and when I fearlessly jump

I recover lost parts of me.

I’ve been singing alone in a sacred space

and only right now

do I hear my own voice.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: imagination