I tiptoe around
this, my
d r e a m
garden
as you undress
my thoughts
with d e f t
hands
a bright
blue M o o n
just won’t stop
shining
even as
the t i m e
comes to
w a k e u p
tiptoe
Tag: dream
liminal spaces
/ forgetful
regretful
a mindful path of
multi-storied
v e r s e s /
searching
for liminal
s p a c e s
observing
those pondering
f a c e s
*
. . . o p p o n e n t s
aware
contenders—
beware
of those doubtful
intentions
unspoken
d i s s e n t i o n s . . .
sketched
on damp paper—
and never
aired
*
/ forgetful
regretful
a mindful path of
multi-storied
v e r s e s /
searching
for liminal
s p a c e s
fierce like
assonant
traces
you can
now
view—
though
I n e v e r
b a r e d
the colour of your dreams
I often
get lost
in your
canvas
p a l a c e
My hands
all dirty
with
old
p a i n t
What’s the colour
of your
dreams?
I d a r e
a s k
Yet you
never
utter
a single
w o r d
So I strive to
find my
answer
in ink
s k e t c h e s
*
I often
get lost
in your
canvas
p a l a c e
My hands
all dirty
with
old
p a i n t
What’s the colour
of your
dreams?
I d a r e
a s k
Those
undecipherable
ink
s
t
r
o
k
e
s
Paint
pirouettes
that won't
tell any
t a l e s
*
My dreams
are
sometimes
coloured
y e l l o w
— with
a
dash
of
b l u e —
Your eyes closed,
while I get lost
in the true opacity
of those abstract
i m a g e s
So I let
all shades sink in—
colouring your reverie
back to
r e a l i t y
spy
She yearned to become a spy yet she failed so miserably She walked the long walk and dressed in hued tones She hushed the sharp tongues and asked for bad karma For those that would play her— the good ones obeyed her Lila yearned to become a spy yet she failed so miserably She wore her dark shades, unravelled dark plots / with feline intention and birdlike precision / Yet her wings she did not want to get w e t So she’d run under cover on rainy days It was always warmer by that fireplace She yearned to become a spy— Yet she failed so miserably
a subtle blind
dreams are dreams— these dreams of m i g h t as night becomes a subtle b l i n d for storming ears and fears of d e a t h and silent smiles and rightful s t a r e s I sing I sigh I dream— We d r o w n those dreams red nights a subtle c r y and dreams are dreams— those dreams, t o n i g h t will end the affair, and cover, m i g h t You sing You sigh You dream— We d r o w n these dreams, such dreams, this s u b t l e b l i n d
sweet dreams
shake things up
shake things down
shape things wild
a n d
b o x
t h e m
i n
right
or
wrong
it’s all
t h e y ’ v e
b e e n
*
they’ve seen
g r e y
they’ve seen
b l a c k ,
demure shades—
a field of
d r e a m s
right
or
wrong
it’s all
t h e y ’ v e
s e e n
*
now,
and then,
been...
...and seen,
tonight,
grey worlds,
be
come
s w e e t
d r e a m s
tambourine
D
r D
u r
m u
m ,
little women's army
splatter walls—
dressed in
war face
p a i n t
magic hands
can turn out
wonders,
now they're sleeping—
shan't be
awoken
y e t
close
the shutters,
no light
streaming—
they deserve
a darkened
dreaming
b e d
D
r D
u r
m u
m ,
little women's army—
splatter walls
dressed in
war face
p a i n t
mind dust
dissuading fears
like there’s
no
t
o
m
o
r
r
o
w
assuaging
nuages—
those dreams
u
n
f
o
l
d
contorting
smiles
unseen to
t
d h
a g
y i
l
there’s no
room
left for
dreams
of
O L
G D
dark smoke verse
Smoking
French
poetry whore
cigarettes
o n e,
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
i wet my lips,
i puff—
frail
particles of
d i f f u s e d
s m o k e
S
d u
n m e r
u r
o
i bat my eyelids,
i stare away.
and puff—
o n e
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
still no
words, yet
i perceive
some
d a r k
v e r s e
s m o k e
has subtly
embraced
— p o s s e s s e d —
my f e a t h e r e d
d r e a m s
and,
while
i type
a widowed
v e r s e —
for a poem
i may
have dreamed—
but will
never, in ink,
b i r t h
smoking
French
poetry whore
cigarettes
o n e,
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
a drunken
song
waltzes
around
i n
m y
h e a d
“they’re not good for you.
he’s not good for you.
stop wasting
y o u r
b r e a t h
a w a y
remember—
smoking
ain’t good
for
the
l i v i n g .”
i n h a l e.
e x h a l e.
s m o k i n g
o n e ,
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
a
subtly
s o o t h i n g
d a r k ,
s m o k e d
v e r s e
e
s m
e m e b
c r
a
LannaZee 