What Dreams Are Made Of
To paint a dream requires no paint
Or soft bristles that dance on canvas
A dreamer’s strokes like pleas of saint
Tiptoed and etched through dauntless sagas.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dreams are a nightmare wrapped in silk
Undulating in its velvety strife
At times they’re cloaked buffoon ilk
Smirking and lurking on a gleaming knife.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rats, parmesan, petunia, are dreams too.
The ambitious pulpits, a glass coffin, a snatched crown,
Serpent in bed, dreaded thesis, crowd’s boo,
The beggar’s smile, Oprah’s cheers, dollars on paper brown.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dreams are dreams whose origin unknown
As this poetry scribbled in an estranged spur.
Dreams are dreams unshackled through stones
Of beautiful aching poured from limitless core.
© 07-31-2012
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