a dream can lose direction
like a monarch butterfly
fluttering across wet sand
desperately seeking
to regroup with windy recall
a wild horse
can become confused
when the landscape is no longer familiar
its strong heart
maintains its ample body
running heatedly into the horizon
where the herd is no longer seen -
sometimes, words flee the eye of the poet
their meaning absolved from being written
Interesting parallels, to lead us there.
Axilea
Last two lines gives the hairpin turn (shall I call "heroic ending") and direction to this well crafted poem, and shows that the narrator is still in quest of that absolute perfection, but he's conscious and can even anticipate what eyes can miss!
sometimes, words flee the eye of the poet
their meaning absolved from being written
- David
And I'm gratified to find our Hall of Mirrors mind-matrix still at work; I wondered whether you would somehow pick up that I had the Hendrix "Little Wing" lyric running through my mind when I wrote my last poem? I see the "butterflies and zebras" are both here - well, according to my string-theory reasoning, your heated wild horse in an unfamiliar terrain could well be a zebra, right?! :)) LOL!! Again, throwing in a totally subjective take on this poem, the atmosphere is very evocative of the windswept beaches of Costa de la Luz, which I love. Finding your stillpoint, knowing that the unseen inner landscape is all important, should cause the winds to drop and the compass to again find true north. Go placidly, Amigo. KirKus Kate xx
Regis
Georg
stay well
John
fee
Newfie Hugs, Rose
The stanza about the wild horse got to me. It spoke to a deepness within my being. (Go and read my poem "Wild Fire", it makes me think of how I felt at the time that I wrote that poem)
We are all wild horses yearning to ride a wild free landscape. Sometimes our obligations and commitments hinder this freedom. Dreaming is the vehicle to that portal of freedom and fantasy. Dreams tell everything about the hidden messages that only our soul knows. When we dream, we dream in the color of our soul, sometimes black and white; when our logical mind seeps into them. (of course that is the devil's advocate so to speak, to our dreams becoming reality!) Don't allow black and white to color your dreams, find what is really in your soul and go for it, even if it means changing your image of what your landscape "should" be.
Very thought provoking poetry as always, my dear Shaman.
To dreams and to the freedom of dreaming.
Much peace, light and love,
Amber
Ron
s
Take care,
Sherry