Friday, June 5, 2009

Blog #6 By Jessica Frohling

Word count 628

Dreams and the subconscious:

Into the hole,
Filled with wolves,
Smooth teeth,
Lolling fur,
Yellow eyes,
I walk through,
Unharmed by my friends,
Hungry though they were,
Loping behind,
They follow me,
They turn to butterflies.
They float like lights,
Then stars above my head,
Into the white mansion ahead,
It has blue eyes,
I stare and start,
Running inside.
Marble floors,
Checkered patterns,
Banisters like springs,
Artwork that stares back,
Can I join you where you are?
Silver and blue floors,
Rising and falling,
Trying to eat my feet,
Faster I run,
Like a rabbit being hunted,
Pink light surrounds,
Fights with the floor,
A purple creature rises,
It’s yellow tongue speaks riddles,
Listening as if to symphony,
My head frozen,
Heart like wind,
Floating in my chest.
Searching for a door,
They seem to disappear,
Or slide further away,
I remember my power,
I pull a sword from the wall,
Gleaming hilt writhes in my hand,
Attempts to run,
But I grab it harder,
Swing at the creature,
It is silent.
Look through the window,
Now I’m outside,
Smoke where the mansion used to be,
Sword now part of my arm,
Skin now tattooed with light.
Eyes open,
Regular world again.
I think I liked the adventure better,
Whole body tired,
Back to sleep
To dreams,
To adventure,
Sometimes nightmare,
Sometimes ecstasy.

A vision of beauty:

Soot filled flowers bending in the wind,
Black petalled beauty surrounds my tombstone,
The cape of color shook,
Above the earth,
Mountains, blue,
Drop like paint,
Splash to create life.

The journey that is taken:

The journey begins by falling off a cliff,
All while staring at a rose,
All resources available,
Conjuring all that is needed,
Next the pregnant lady of loveliness,
Walking through the field,
Then the man on a thrown,
He shares the same field,
White columns surround the lady in white,
Her face so serene as she drops her flowers,
Next, the satyr of philosophy,
He holds the scroll and points to the sun,
Then the lovers whom others proudly adore,
Their instincts guiding their way,
Then the horses of the sky pull the man in the chariot behind,
The scales stare down,
As do the lady that holds them awaiting judgment,
Next comes the lady that pours emotion from one cup to the other,
Her lesson to balance and sooth,
Then comes the man wrestling the lion,
Endurance is the key,
Then stands the shrouded man holding his lantern in the darkness,
Aloneness needed at this time,
Fates spinning the thread on the wheel,
Ups and downs of life apparent at this time,
Man in suspense with a hawk flying above,
Awaiting something, anything,
Then the end of what you know,
The beginning of something new,
Two figures dancing,
While chained to the very being of their destruction,
The triton aimed at what has been,
Crumbling destruction reigning down,
At the bottom of the chest of chaos,
Is the very birth of hope,
The wolves howl at the moon,
While it shines its light down with mystery,
The sun awaits its turn at daybreak,
His head shines gold,
After what is said and done begging and pleading won’t help
Accept the consequences of what has passed,
But remember all has cycles,
The serpent eats its tail,
The four suits for different occasions,
One for love and emotion,
One for career and finances,
One for fighting for what you want,
And one for direction of where you wish to go.
Kings, queens, knights, and pages,
Divinity speaking through the ages,
Ready for the listeners,
And those who would know fate,
Those who seek to change it,
Those who eat judgments for breakfast,
Those who wish for better,
For themselves,
For others.

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