He sends me to bases that have stunned many faces, including that of mine.I feel the dream catchers power running through my spine, incresing my faith, to run to next base without stumbling, very humbling.As I strive to reach home base, keeping my vision on the Dream Catchers Mitt.
Some Native Americans it seems
believe that the air is filled
with good and bad dreams..
The legend states that when one sleeps,
a dream catcher will trap the bad ones that seep.
Place a dream catcher at the head of your bed
and trap the bad ones in it's web..
The good dream will pass thru it's center hole,
bring peace and comfort to the slumbering soul.
life goes on...even though our hopes are crushed,
even though a few flowers, which could have fully bloomed
and enchanted the world... fall and perish.
they leave their dreams to the dream catchers
October 31, 2021
Taken from original poem "Life's Crushed Roses" - for contest "Mix It Up" sponsored by Constance La France
For "Liberum Divisa 8” Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Gregory Richard Barden
For "Bite Size Poem - 32" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
FIRST PLACE
Capture emotions
Like fireflies in a jar.
Catch times
Like a dream catcher.
If I could stop these times
And nestle a home in these feelings,
I’d live here forever
Feeding off salted almonds and music
Soon there’s a break
Will you grow away from me?
I know my worries are foolish
But i’d like to capture you
Like words in a poem,
I hope they’ll hold this moment still.
So I can live in it forever
And ignore life once we drift
Would you care if I did?
Be bitter that i’d ignore you,
Just ti write you on paper
So i’d have you even after I lost you.
Catching snakes has to be done
When they are in the city each one
There is a couple of tattooed people
On television in South Africa showing their mettle
Black mambas, Cobras, Spitting Cobras each done
Would have the potential to kill when their biting is done
Not my cup of tea to do this sort of thing
With nerves of steel that they do bring.
© Paul Warren Poetry
What charms your whim, your fun,
Each day when you’re alone?
The things you ponder and get up to,
That’s not on the telephone.
Maybe you like duct tape art or
Collecting tea bag cloaks,
Or going around javelin catching with
Other javelin catching folks.
Maybe you carve egg shells,
Into beautiful greens and blues,
Or maybe you like to appear behind
Reporters when they’re on the news.
Are you the person that likes to moo
Convinced that you’re a cow?
Or are you the person that wants to be a cat
That loves to go meow?
I’d like to get together one day
And admire this theatrical poster,
And you could sit beside me, holding my hand,
Enjoying life’s roller coaster.
There was a time when feathers found me like talismans, they came.
Without their down, I was grounded, the sparrow thought to lend me flight.
Now, neither up, nor down do my eyes go, for the third eye is my frame.
Flight takes a lonely path, stirred by each wanton wayward breeze.
The sky above is not for me, the spiral path of mystery, my hook, my lure.
Ah, not to choose but taste of both would, I dream, be heaven for me.
Now, within my window’s pane I’ve hung a catcher of dreams
I’ve found a way to fly inward and rise upon the fragile breeze of mind.
Feather’s hang among the circle’s weave, they are the tokens I keep.
Sijo String
First Published in Dual Coast Magazine Issue 1 2014
Artist Carol Cavalaris
The vertical thought had
jumped on the moon
without any qualms.
Do you think, the dreams
will sell to man
these butterflies.
The ants were waiting
for the death of the lamb
wandering in the neighbour’s field.
O God, how long we will
drink this potion
of the stone catchers ?
Satish Verma
The art of dreams,
Is that of Holy things.
Mastered by the abused,
A people of such romantic views.
Once their arts had been taught,
The newcomer repressed their very thoughts.
A man of intergrity, a man of valor,
Helped another in his darkest hour.
His thoughts were clean, his thoughts were pure,
Of the other man's he could not be sure.
When the time came, to all live in peace,
The newcomer came followed by beast.
Giving the order, with sword in hand,
"You will stay here no more!" was his deadly command.
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