Dreaming

Poem inspired by Jr. Great Books story, "The Turquoise Horse"

By: Sylvie Bower

 

Unfinished poems.

Essays unwritten,

Floating in the air above

Like dead birds still flying

These are music for me,

Dreams of writing.

 

I dream of lands I fairly know,

The acres and acres of glorious Pemberly,

Deep Valley, the beautiful slough of Deep Valley.

All of these wonderful places I read through,

Dreams of fictional lands.

 

It’s strange,

The people I meet, I’ve already met.

The slayer, Queen of Hearts

The slain, Duke of Buckingham, and more.

They are always there, the freckles on my face.

Every dream, I meet them,

From the magnificent hero to the rotten villain,

I dream of characters.

 

But there is a series of dreams I’ve left bare,

It beats in me so much; I mistake it for my heart

Dreams of unfinished dresses, complete

Presidential campaigns to come, going on,

Like déjà vu, except in the future

Dreams of success.

 

Dreaming, Always Dreaming.

 

Look

by Sylvie Bower

Understand as you pass:

The painting will always see you,

But you might not always see it.

Look.

Remembrance

by Sylvie Bower

Lauren was a poem. 

You couldn't just read her and understand.

Throughout her life, people got lost in her.

Even though she's dead, her poem lives on.