I cannot sleep
but thoughts
of you nibble
into my soul.
Every night
you are there
in my dreams.
Where shall
we go tonight
my love? Another
flight of pure fancy.
Yet again I wake
to the hard truth;
you are no longer
here.
Benita H. Kape (c) 8.2.2022
Tonight for d/Verse https://dversepoets.com/2022/02/07/quadrille-145/. We are given the word nibble to make a quadrille: a 44 word poem.
Picture courtesy of Pexel
They kiss the stage
the ballet slippers
of the dancer.
She leaps into
another world
much to our delight.
She is out of reach
and we can only dream.
They kiss the stage
the ballet slippers
of the dancers divine.
Benita H. Kape 12.2.2019
Picture courtesy of Pexel
Dreams Paradigm
The anguish and the impossibility
That ever, a ballerina, I would be.
The dreams were sweet and full of harmony
That by them, in some way, I would startlingly
Dance on from these dreams to the true theatre, celebrity:
Save myself from a mindless and wretched insanity.
The unreal dreaming of a pubescent girl at play.
Who, even in dreams, failed the arabesque and saute.
Such dreams faded. They’d had their place.
Other dreams came, often lacking dignity and grace.
And in quite unbelievable dreams there were seagulls
And water, and rowboat and sharks and skulls.
I longed for dreams that were a total breakaway
Inanimate as a table; a table I was about to lay –
And there as before, unbelievable. But this time,
Dreams sweet with confidence; dreams paradigm.
Benita Kape © 14.4.2018
And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Dream dictionaries have been around as long as people have had dreams. Interestingly, if you consult a few of them, they nearly always tend to have totally different things to say about specific objects or symbols. Dreams, unlike words themselves, don’t seem to be nicely definable! At any rate, today’s prompt is to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary. Pick one (or more) of the following words, and write about what it means to dream of these things:
Teacup
Hammer
Seagull
Ballet slipper
Shark
Wobbly table
Dentist
Rowboat
Forking In
I bend and pull
and having cleared
a small area
begin to turn the soil
when, but a short
way into the digging,
the need to stand,
to draw
a deep breath.
And on I go;
something calls
to be planted, to grow.
I see beans and lettuce
(and I must check
on that. Are they
companion plants?
I’ve forgotten).
But not for a day
or two, the planting
and sowing of seeds.
The soil is soggy.
Lime
will sweeten it.
And then too I add
more fertilizers. Quietly
pleased with today’s toil.
I’ll fork in the sweetners
after breakfast on the morrow.
I wheel the barrow away,
under the cherry tree
shedding her petals
smiling tender leaf buds
into a vivid season;
tuck tools into the shed
and as I step indoors
for my evening meal
a gentle rain shower
followed by
the deluge of dreams
and is the minds’
nightly forking in
of a day’s hard work.
Benita H. Kape © 4.10.2017
benitakape 