Could anyone decipher my Dream?
Is there an Oracle out there?

nighty night miss AngEla and every else, I will keep my pen and paper handy Ashu, good night

goodnite all, it's almost three in the morning and /me needs to go to bed now..........

Good night to all of you, is JM still there?
Well here's something to dream about:

And as I dream of the Dream,
I dream that the Dream dreams me,
And as we dream of each other,
The whole world waits, With bated breath to see,

If I can control the Dream,
Or the Dream consumes me,
But I lose, and as the Dream turns darker,
I try to break free;

But the more I struggle, The more I find,
Myself entangled in the Dream,
The web that the Dream has woven around me,
Is nothing more than an elaborate scheme;

To keep me asleep, And away,
From rising against the Beast,
And kill its kith and kin,
That have joined It in the Feast;

Where my Fears serve my Ambitions,
And Jealousy cooks my Reasoning,
And Hatred clouds my Love,
And my Virtues are butchered by Sin.

Venus

The ashen light of Venus stares at me,
As I the one who rides on silken wings,
Move up among assurgent souls so free,
To hear the sweetish song the Angel sings.

Through acid clouds and rain I fall,
To land upon a hot and hostile land;
To show a world how I can stand so tall
Amidst a stygic scene of Satan sand.

Enchanting Sorceress casts her wicked spell
And I am doomed to damn eternally
Her damoclean chains of demon hell
And never wish to set my devil free.

A little prose, in keeping with the holiday.

This was my favorite as a child. My father always sat me and my 5 siblings down on Christmas eve, just prior to going to bed and would read the classic Dylan Thomas story, A Childs Christmas in Wales. It was a nice, warm feeling.

Here is a link to the entire piece: http://www.missthistlebritches.com/a_child.htm

And here is an tiny sample. The last paragraph:

Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to bed. Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.

Good one Fuzzy Logic. I'd like to see ur contribution to 'My Verse'.
Keeping with the season's spirit aren't we motion?

Here's a famous quote I remembered (not that I want this thread to go on to quotes now, but this one is good)

Socrates: 'By all means marry. If you get a good wife you will become happy, and if you get a bad one you will become a philosopher.'

Nice one, eh

Here's another one, and this one is relevant to the thread.

'You don't have to suffer to be a poet; adolescence is enough suffering for anyone.'
John Ciardi

Also, check out my new Wallpaper 'Scales' at the following link. I'd appreciate feedback.

https://www.wincustomize.com/skins.asp?library=8&skinid=6652

A little bit of self-promotion there, ashu?

What can I say JM?
It is the age of advertisement and hard selling.

Something of my own from years ago. A dear friend told me some bad news about herself. I wrote her this short verse.


Because they say there is no hope,
my hope is twice as strong.
The offerings of learned men,
just prove me they are wrong.

I will not eat this fear
Untill the night my dear.

Because they say your time is short,
your line will be so long.
These people with their practical tune,
need learn a different song.

I will not eat this fear
Untill the night my dear.


When they are gone
And you still here
I'll gladly eat this fear.

Untill the night my dear.
Untill the night my dear.


Perhaps a bit of denial in the poem, but in the long run I was right. She is still with us. Some of them aren't.

Very nice, motion.........

Cerberus

Gauze blue polarized night shade,
Doused in wet-wash spray.
Eyes of mystery dumbfound:
Sentinels to guide the way.

Dressed in crab and limpet this
Owl's farthing candle rock,
Watches over turbid dregs
Which dare to to mole and mock.

To pierce-split the marrow bones
Shellburst winds and waves.
And drown the billow's gristle,
Deep in kedge of kelpish graves.

...spot the typo >

hmmmm is it 'farthing'? the superfluous 'h'

Seriously, I can't see the typo.

Thanks Jam. It was a particularly sad time. After a few days, I refused to let it make me sad. It is a male defense mechanism...deny it, and it isn't happening. This time, I just happened to be spot on.

I'm so glad that things went so well for your friend...
Just goes to show that you should never lose hope.

AngEla_27 could sure use some of our prayers headed her way at this time!

Second verse, last line "to to" - only meant one of those

You know Fuzzy, I read that carefully twice and didn't spot that....

"I'm 'enry the eighth I am
'enry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before.

And every one was an 'enry
not a Willy or a Sam
I'm her eighth old man, I'm 'enry
'enry the eighth I am, I am
'enry the eighth I am.

Second verse, same as the first."

Here's one someone I know wrote:

The Narrowed Road.

The old house still stands
'mid the grounds and ancient lands.
Memories of childhood I recall,
through my mind they rise and fall.

The waterfall thunders in the distance
covering the heartbeat of the instant.
River flows, its white foam brewing,
'round the turn,no longer stewing.

Underbrush, now grown all 'round,
tries to cover each cricket sound.
The path once wide has narrowed much,
to find one's way is done by touch.

The correlation of then and now
comes before my sweating brow.
When we were young, the road was wide
to explore our world on life's long ride.

As we near the end of our traveled road,
our story's left and others told.
For eyes are now dim and boby slowed;
there's only touch down this lonely road.

I spotted the typo...........hee, hee....

I've been married 17 years now. I've known my wife for 20 years. When she is "less then happy" with me I will often pick up my guitar and sing her this James Taylor song.
It always softens her mood again.


Something In the Way She Moves

There's something in the way she moves,
Or looks my way, or calls my name,
That seems to leave this troubled world behind.
If I'm feeling down and blue,
Or troubled by some foolish game,
She always seems to make me change my mind.

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now,
She's around me now
Almost all the time.
And if I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now,
And she's been with me now
Quite a long, long time
And I feel fine.

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning,
And I find myself careening
Into places where I should not let me go.
She has the power to go where no one else can find me,
Yes, and to silently remind me
Of the happiness and good times that I know, you know.
Well I said I just got to know that:

It isn't what she's got to say
Or how she thinks or where she's been.
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound.
I like to hear them best that way -
It doesn't much matter what they mean,
Well she says them mostly just to calm me down.

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now,
And she's around me now
Almost all the time.
If I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now,
And she's been with me now
Quite a long,
Long time
Yes, and I feel fine.

--James Taylor