About a dream, ant the impression it gave me, in the form of a letter to love.


Dear Love

Dear love,
I don't wake up with my arms reaching out for anyone,
They're at my side or around the blanket or pillow.
Somebody asked me, "Don't you feel like the fifth wheel?"
I don't.
One has never seen me with a chick,
But others have.
A few times in my sleep,
A girl crossed my path.
But I didn't get their names.
Both appeared with no intro,
One appeared driving a bus,
I sat one seat behind her on the right side as passenger.
She never uttered a word,
The only sound that came out of her mouth was a little laugh.
A "hm." Laugh,
Not a, "Ha." Laugh.
I could see the color of her shirt,
Her face was turned toward me.
I saw her only twice in that dream,
Both times with no intro.
There is no recollection of getting on and off the bus,
When she first appeared and when I was deposited or ended up at a few places.
But I did end up back on the bus with her,
She left the way she came.
No intro,
No name.
She didn't say goodbye,
She didn't say she'll see me again later.
My arms remained at my side when I woke up.
If I were to fall in love,
What would the motive be?
Would the teacher be her,
Or me
I know one thing though,
The relationship will teach the both of us for sure.
As well as ourselves.
What would be a powerful reconciliation of the opposite?
And would it be so the both of us can feel like it is so,
And it actually not be so??
The highest heaven?
The otter is one of the animalws in my medicine wheel,
But that does not mean I'll let her hold me,
And wipe the oil off my body.
But trust, laughter, and playfulness are gifts offered by the otter.
I remember holding an object over a gate in that particular dream,
I rattle its doors which were all ready loose.
There wasn't a lock that held them together,
The girl appeared after.
There we were,
On a diesel fueled bus.
I don't remember having to tell her where I wanted to go.
The ride was quiet,
Except for the sound of the diesel engine of the bus,
And that little, "Hm." laugh from her.
It's nice to not have to tell her, I can take care of myself,
The tiger is a messenger that appeared recently,
Telling me to get ready for adventure, challenge and change.
Intuition was telling me something when I was in high school,
But she didn't tell me she wanted to herself until a few years later.
I haven't been with many,
And of course I'm free of obsession,
a happy development of the productivity of the beaver is seen and felt.
A partner would say to me, "If Life doesn't mind."
"Your friends love you, but it is my pleasure."
Of course it's up to me.
Life would say to her,
Just take care of her boy.
My arms still don't reach out for anyone,
Whenever, I wake up.
They still remain at my side,
I'm not tired of being by myself.
I have no voids that need to be filled.
I'm carefree.
Sincerely,
Vanna Song.




Poetry by Vanna "Smokie" Song
Read 701 times
Written on 2006-08-23 at 22:53

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Alison Clarke
Vanna:

This poem is very interesting about the potential of love. Some very unique imagery: especially about the otter and the beaver. Take care, and keep writing.


Alison
2006-09-25


Zachary P. B.
i love this...

everything seems to be strange and unfamiliar, in dreams or life, it's all so fictional it's hard to tell reality now...

i like the idea of your arms not reaching out for someone, it's sad in a way, but you don't need it or anything... i liked this alot.

z
2006-08-25


keith nunes
unique and cool
2006-08-23