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[Vincent Turner]

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Maybe a bee, maybe a bird
I observed it all from above.
It was warm, air was the breath
of a panting dog. In corn crowded
fields, tractors, constant in
their murmur, scythed their lines
beneath a cloudless true-blue sky.

From homestead chimneys
thick smoke trickled lazily
into a windless sky.
Maybe a bee, maybe a bird
I observed summer bronzed
children churning milk.
In turns they plunged the paddle
into the sop and suck
of the barrel, singing

"Come butter come
Come butter come
Peter stands at the gate
Waiting for a buttered cake"

Then a lightning sky.
Not forks of whip-lashed light
but a single sheet of brightness.
Stunned to a halt,
awed into silence, the children
finger-shielded their squinted
eyed to watch the horizon ignite.

Tractors shunted to a stop,
shaded dogs jerked from their
grassy spot to take seat
at the feet of the men.
Everyone stilled, silent,
as though natives watching
the monstrous
white-sailed boats
drop anchor
within shouting distance
of the shore.
And then the world
                   wailed white,

and the rope of your arms,
taunt against my trembling form
hauled me back to
                  black.



Note- The verse in italics is a traditional English churning song

[VickieSALT]

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it does three things for me:

helps me understand imagery in British literature and music

makes me imagine apocalypse, like scale 10 or 11 earthquake and a 100 foot high tsunamis

brings on goosebumps, my trademark reaction to eminent sexual excitement or experiencing something sublime

Cool?

[Vincent Turner]

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it does three things for me:

helps me understand imagery in British literature and music

makes me imagine apocalypse, like scale 10 or 11 earthquake and a 100 foot high tsunamis

brings on goosebumps, my trademark reaction to eminent sexual excitement or experiencing something sublime

Cool?

COOL!

Glad you liked. Did the ending sit well with you, I struggled with it for some time, and in a way did not want it to end like most "dream" poems, i.e explain the dream, and end the poem with the person waking up etc., but I wanted it to be an honest account ( within the realms of poetic license)....

thanks for the input

Best Regards

Vincent

[VickieSALT]

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dreams are meaningful to the dreamer, and they are excellent as is, unexplained to someone else.  Many dreams are better off presented like a surrealist painting, Magritte or Dali.  Dreams are powerful  - to me - because of the surrealistic impossible contrasts.  And in your dream, I like contrasts and yes the ending -


and the rope of your arms,
taunt against my trembling form
hauled me back to
                  black.

something ominous and still for me echoes of hedonistic bondage, a happy ending.  That is me.