Metaphor Dream Poems

I dreamt only of green alkanet.

One by one,
I'd see another,
mutilate my view,
talking in tongues of five, 
as they destroy the delicate balance,
between this world and...

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Do I remember when...

Better breezes blew
Cleaner waters flowed
Teasing memory so... 

For I can hear them in quiet special times… can you?
Softly now, in your own...

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Summer Dream
Note: This is Ms Huang's first poem and English is a second language, so helpful comments are welcomed and encouraged.
(This was a collaboration in...

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Burned by dawn of brand new light
I drift back into primal night
to find upon my dreams a dance
in wait to be
restored by chance.
...

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The girl and her smile straddle the rainbow
neon hair the fluid cascades of northern lights
seafoam cloak the ripples outgrown by the shore
she adores the breeze...

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Through the many days
Up and down marking each their hours
So do minds sail their curious course.

With each weighed anchor leaving swirling trails
Showing the world what...

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Teresa of Ávila
Dreamt the passion of God.

A physical fire 
Burned an image of his power.

An image I envisioned was one so dull 
Full of pain
A...

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To move, a person crawls, then walks.

Two wheels
A frame with a seat
That same person

Takes the 3 and works them together
Into a bike.

Aha!
To move, hop on,...

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Unlikely Mike
by Michael R. Burch

I married someone else’s fantasy;
she admired me despite my mutilations.

I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
I hid my...

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Have I not yet awoke,
since last I wandered bare, 
in fields of bergamot and smoke,
and spring morning’s air,
blows a little more brilliant,
holding her prayer,
for my...

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Weaving Work I

                      ...

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Little shelves in quiet minds 
Hold unimagined worlds. 
Night-time spurs their playtime jaunts.
By dawn, a tale reshelves. 

At times, these tales may reappear 
To flirt...

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Where to, old man, with your weary stride
Through the streets where shadows hide? 

Is it to the past you wander now
Or chasing dreams that fled...

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Weeping eyes dream, as do mine, 
in Satie's melancholic scene,
haunted, his heartbeat,
throbs in my throat,
as I wait in stead, 
to capture, 

every
   breath

of...

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Taunting the day,
red moon rising,
tucking the sun, 
back into bed,
calling me forth,
her faithful soldier, 
collecting memories,
of stars for millennia, 
night's watchman,
at it again.


...

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