My Shore of Dreams
If my mind were a sea,
on one of its shores,
dreams would drift to me each night,
sometimes as beautiful as silken sand.
Also I might dream awake. In a contemplative state,
I feel the need to take waves of creative thought
and form them into phrases and then verses
which come together lyrically, constructed carefully
with rhyme and rhythm and other poetic devices.
These are the sandcastles of my mind.
On rare occasions, I discover
beautiful and genuine pearls of thought
inside my dreamy sand.
I fashion them into the best of my poetry.
These are my treasures that I keep safest
while most of my dear castles get swept away
as if by the ocean's tides,
not to be viewed by anyone ever again.
The times when my sea's tides run dry,
then my mind eventually creates tempests
which bring onto my sandy shore
feelings of despair or disappointment.
Rushing to me with bluster, they might rage.
More likely, they stir my soul with melancholia.
At these times, verses roll forth from my mind
free of meter or of rhyme.
If my mind were the sea,
I would hope for waves of creativity
to ever flow onto
my shore of dreams.
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