94 Lines As Promised in a Dream
94 Lines As Promised in a Dream
Lofty
fresh timber
load
Bay filled
with
dusty bricks
weary weight
from work
or want
burnt black
rubber tire
stacks
backwards
music
and laughter
Monday
through Friday
moods
many
forgotten
moments
Duncan
poems
in shadow
foreign
untranslated
script
will
belief
carry us?
dissecting
fragile
God flowers
of our own
promise
in a dream
promise
beauty
I keep
94
lines
what I've seen
hillsides
barren
wanting rain
our gutters
full from
lead based paint
our choices
destruct
want
smokestacks
billow
rubber ash
sullen hush
over
our laughter
to struggle
Monday
through Friday
a moment
this felt
to forget
our poems
being read
in the dark
too late
foreign
translations
change
belief
halfway
botany
body
flowers
promises
made
in a dream
94
lines of
poetry
green place
only
after rain
where Autumn
leaves
alter land
choices
songs
instructions
struggles
peace
flight
94 lines
© 2020 Jamie Lee Hamann
Comments
AUTHORThank you Brenda. I had to go back and reread the poem…(lol). Jamie
Nice one.
I really liked the reference to how our words are changed through translation.
Stay safe and keep writing.
- AUTHOR
Thank you Verlie.
Wow, love the stream of consciousness in this dream journal. My dream poem was so different. Actually I've been really struggling with all the prompts. But it's good practice. Good stuff.
- AUTHOR
Thank you Bhatt and Romeos Quill. Jamie
Great composition and powerful lines. Nice work.
Good cinematic work Jamie and thanks for your prayers. God bless you and your family.
- AUTHOR
Thank you all for stopping by for a read and leaving comments. I hope you all are well and I send my prayers. Jamie
Nice, Jamie. I like it.
nice post
This was great Jamie. One or two word lines really provides quite an impact. Well done.
This was so very different, like bullets firing at random. I loved it!
I love this too, Jamie. Great to see you again. I hope all is well with you and that you're keeping safe.
This brought forth so many images just like, as bill says, glimpses into the brain. The old postcard sets the scene too.
Is this your first of 30 for poetry month? Hope so!
Ann
Love it! A random trip through your brain, rapid-fire glimpses into a reality, or altered-reality, like those old newsreels that would flicker while they played...loved it!
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