Sometimes I dream images that I use in my poetry. At other times, I dream that I am writing a poem. It is like looking over one’s own shoulder and reading the words as they are written. Unfortunately I never have a pen and piece of paper beside my bed when I first awake, and later in the day it is almost completely forgotten. The poem below was written after I fell asleep while trying to write. I was feeling quite discouraged and got a headache. I do not remember falling asleep. Sometimes stress makes me doze off unintentionally.
I wake from a nap, pen and paper close at hand.
An image of a broken fence still banging
against the hinges of my mind. Worn
white paint peeling like sun burnt skin.
A hand, firm in intent, grasps
tightly, tries to steady it
as if in opening.
In the porch entrance of an aged house,
a glowing orange light flickers.
An old, gnarly white cat guards
the doorway. She will not
let me pass, stretching open her
paws, claws extended.
This is where I find you. On the threshold.
Gates knocking on hinges, doorways revealed
but unpassable. Are you the steadying hand, holding me
still against a storm, or the frightened animal
barring the way?
In my drowsy state, words stream fast.
I crave more, images raw
and uncensored. Listen to the hypnotic
tick tock, tick tock. Interpretation left
for another day.