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Posts Tagged ‘dream’

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bird2

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We found a little box

with a speckled bird inside

and fed it bits of food

and water from a dropper,

until the day he asked

for a bigger place.

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And so we placed him lovingly

inside a gilded cage

with trays of seeds

and a wooden perch

where he could hop about.

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“This is fine for now,” he said,

“but tomorrow

I want something bigger.”

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We quickly built an aviary

with maple trees

and blueberry shrubs

where he could flutter

through the leaves.

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“This is nice for now,” he said.

But after several days he asked

to wing about the house,

and finally out the window.

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We watched him fly

through forests and valleys,

and finally up into the sky

between the stars, and out

beyond the Milky Way.

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A year went by

and one day he returned,

asking for his little box.

He snuggled down to rest, and said,

“This will do just fine –

for I can see forever

from here now.”

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© 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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Poem is from a dream I had last April. 

The image is a partial of a print my late parents had – artist unknown. (Update – the artist is Jill Fogelsong.)  The sun just happened to be shining through the window in a certain way, giving it a rainbow effect — which caught my eye. I wasn’t planning to post an image with this poem, but it presented itself just in time. Funny how things work out….

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Arlie & Wagon (2)

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I dreamed

he was a little boy again,

sitting in his red wagon

waiting for a ride

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but he talked

like a wise, old man

and showed me a scroll

of his life –

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diagrams, notations

I couldn’t understand.

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“I’m shifting manually

through the cosmos,”

he said.

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I woke

with an ageless song

playing in my head.

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©  2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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*This was an actual dream, early this morning, about my late son, Arlie.  I jotted down his words, not fully understanding them at the time.  Later, when I told his older brother about the dream he agreed: only Arlie would say something like that.

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Arlie & Jason (2)

Arlie on left, and big bro Jason.

Both photos taken in 1976.

 

 

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Sift lightly through my memory,

let me catch a bit of thee,

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I slumber in the speckled sun,

my laces – they have come undone,

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fall softly through an open dream,

you bring berries, I’ll bring cream,

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we’ll build a tower, peal the bell,

no stranger, love – I know thee well.

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© 2014, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(a re-post)

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If she held a beacon

tightly to her breast

it would not shadow her,

nor would her hands be stained

were she to touch

the Holy Grail.

Her veins would never tangle

should she frolic

with the gods

nor would she burn to ashes

running naked

through the fire.

She’d not be struck with blindness

nor would her conscience bleed

were she to waken Eros

from a dream.

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© 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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For the next poem in this series, please click on the Mayberrie tab at the top of this page, to see entire list.

(I’m in the slow process of linking them all together.)

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Sift lightly through my memory,

let me catch a bit of thee,

.

I slumber in the speckled sun,

my laces – they have come undone,

 .

fall softly through an open dream,

you bring berries, I’ll bring cream,

 .

we’ll build a tower, peal the bell,

no stranger, love – I know thee well.

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© 2014  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(several nights ago I had this dream…)

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She heard his voice

calling her name

again and again

till she opened the shutters

and looked all around.

From afar he shouted,

You must climb the hill

and come through my door.

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Oh no – not now!

she called back to him,

I’ve no comb in my hair,

no blush on my cheeks,

no proper dress.

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Just come to me,

he called again,

I have no care for appearances.

Just climb the hill

and come to me.

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In protest she went to him,

climbed the hill

and came through his door

but bowed her head

that he’d not see

she had no comb

to hold her hair,

no blush on her cheeks

nor proper dress.

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He stood beside a wooden table

where a single candle burned

and in his hand was a golden coin

which he spun on edge

faster and faster

till it was a blur.

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What do you see?

he asked her then.

She gazed into the spinning coin,

I only see the inner core –

I only see its essence.

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She raised her face

and no longer cared

that she had no comb

to hold her hair,

no blush on her cheeks

nor proper dress.

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He reached out his arms

and pulled her close

and in their embrace she was home.

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What always was

need never begin,

only love is real

the rest is just spin.

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© 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

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A taste of wild berries

of manna

falling through trees

of earth and light

ladled into deep bowls

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sweet fruit

of last night’s dream

now ripe

come break this endless fast.

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(c) 1997, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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Wayward

(from 1975)

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Rubber band dreams

escape my sleep

stretch their way

across the night,

calling out your name.

Impatiently

I pull them back.

They snap and sting

while somewhere

you awaken,

my name still on your lips.

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(c) 1975,  2012  Betty Hayes Albright

Pencil drawing (c) 1965

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