Books and Dreams

“There is no Frigate like a Book

To take us Lands away”

–Emily Dickinson

 

Books and Dreams. Merril D. Smith, © 2017

On this October day, when the sun still holds sway

over winter’s dark dominion,

and light and shadow play

over golden leaves and feathered pinion

the pages of my book glow, too,

(or at least that’s my opinion)

as if the magic’s drifting through.

I’ll travel off into space

or to an unknown archipelago,

I’ll fly, gallop, or pace–

in prose today to Moscow–

there I’ll linger, dream, and smile

and perhaps stay there for awhile

on this October day

with a book, carried away.

 

I had posted the photo with the Dickinson quote on Instagram, but here’s the poem to go with it. This is for dVerse, Open Link Night.

 

 

 

 

 

Queen of the Universe

 In the morning,

a song slips,

slides suddenly into my head

“Shall We Dance,”

a mini-movie in my mind,

Anna and the King twirl

I see her gown swirl

just that,

just for a second

the way dreams  do,

encompassing entire lives

in a flash, flame, and then disappear,

and I wonder

what just happened?

I go about my day,

but later,

in my car,

I turn on the radio,

hear a clear soprano voice sing “Shall We Dance,”

it’s an actress touring in The King and I,

coincidence, synchronicity, cosmic joke?

I wonder

just for a second

(time expands and contracts

paths diverge)

just for a second,

I wonder—

how do these things happen?

Perhaps I really am,

Queen of the Universe,

I could bring world peace,

people would sing and dance,

we’d all have

a clear understanding,

this kind of thing can happen,

can’t it?

(another path perhaps,

another road)

a truck passes me,

I keep on driving

 

1024px-Etruskischer_Meister_002

Details of two dancers from the Tomb of the Triclinium in the Necropolis of Monterozzi
Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Dance, Don’t Fight

The radio interview was on Here and Now .

 

 

 

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo: The Swirling Mist

The mist swirls in before dawn’s light

Spectral shapes with various forms

Bring imagined grey, secret swarms.

 

Yet fog could bring a magic sight–

From lake, a lady with a sword

From hills, a vanished town restored.

 

No fear comes then, instead delight

Ensorcelled, enchanted, amazed

My mind and body in a daze.

 

Too soon, the misty swirls take flight

And I resume the morning’s chores

Opening cupboards, closing doors.

 

Now jonquils dance in sunshine bright

Gone the grey, the fey universe

Remembered only in a verse.

 

NaPoWriMo, Day 14

I wrote a constanza for Jane Dougherty’s Poetry Challenge