🫠 Dream Poem

Dreams Are Poems, Poems Are Dreams

Sol Luckman

I found this poem in my dream
It wasn’t the potted plant it first seemed
But a tremendous act of power
Blossoming like the Devil’s Tower
The World Tree of trees
A pendulum over hissing seas
Turning slowly to striped stone
As I wended my way home

I nearly stepped on this poem in my dream
It wasn’t my late mother as I first deemed
But a serpentine dream being
I saw with closed eyes for better seeing
Slithering through the grass
Of an orchard on a mountain pass
There was a burning question I had to ask
But then I awoke and failed the task

This poem bumped into me in my dream
It gave me such a fright I almost screamed
Yet I’m glad I didn’t
Not that I’m particularly repentant
But it bestowed an important gift
Some minor energy for a major shift
Of my frozen perspective
To grasp that all our choices are elective

At last I encountered myself in my dream
Only to realize I wasn’t what I seemed
But a wildly luminous creature
With perfectly blinding features
My two selves struck up a conversation
Talk about a stimulating sensation
We agreed that dreams are just poems
That we live until we completely know them

I found this poem in my dream
It wasn’t the potted plant it first seemed
But a tremendous act of power
Blossoming like the Devil’s Tower
The World Tree of trees
A pendulum over hissing seas
Turning slowly to striped stone
As I wended my way home

Copyright © Sol Luckman. All Rights Reserved.