dream juice (i) ... playground (poem) by jude forese on AuthorsDen

dream juice (i) ... playground
by jude forese → (All Poetry by jude forese)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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I see a small child playing in a sandbox no adults or other children were standing by just the quiet cascade of sand falling from spoon into pail he whispers notes singing enchanting wind songs entertaining breezes and laughing in the aftermath is his delicate smile he has a remarkably serene expression his eyes, blue as the sky his skin, a silky tone of olive and light chocolate his auburn hair, shinny tarnished copper there was no path for me to walk upon no staircase to get up and slide down upon no monkey bars to straddle across so swings to attract his attention to I turned away to see and as I looked back, he is no longer a small child but a young man he is carving a statue inside a crystal dome he gestures for me to come forward but I cannot move a magnetic tug is holding me back while a wave of enery is pushing me forward I am suspended in this dream’s playground I can only stand still and awaken

Reviewed by Vivian Dawson

Reviewed on March 23, 2012

Pristine is your hour glass masterpiece!!!
*Jude* sifting the sands!!!!

Lady Vivian

Reviewed by E T Waldron

This one is very special, it shows the growth of personality as the child ages and does so in a beautifully simple,yet mystical way. This is pure Jude work!Kudos!...ET

Reviewed by SHERRY HEIM

Reviewed on March 22, 2012

You are the life that is the alabaster statue, the glass dome the windows of your mind open to the birth of idea. You are grounded by your own desire to see it all unfold around you as the sands of time continue to undulate between the then and the now. Really nice, Jude.
Take care,
Sherry

Reviewed by Mr. Ed

I can think of worse places to be suspended - dream on.

Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather

Reviewed on March 21, 2012

I can't comment better than Kate. Always intrigued by dreamscapes. Glad you shared.

Reviewed by Debby Rosenberg

dreamscapes are so amazing, thanks for sharing

Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger

Precious are the moments watching a small child at play
in a sandbox. Their imagination is awakening by
the grains of gold sifting through their fingers.
The youthful man carving. What be the statue. Is it
you Jude to go to him by his gesture or ascending the
dream through your energy to awaken with strength.
Well done softly in synaptic measure Jude.
Lady Mary Ann

Reviewed by Christine Alwin

wowa...this is amazing!

Reviewed by Amber Moonstone

Hey Jude,
OMG, okay, this is absurd, I have just come back from an afternoon with Kason, my grandson at the beach. It was his first time at the shore, and my god, your beginning stanzas describe him to a tee. He was so fascinated withh the big sandbox (the beach) that he was glowing...His blue eyes shone like diamonds and we even put our feet in the waves. It was an angelic experience to say the least. So you dream about a sandbox playground, I just played in a sandbox playground...Kismet indeed.

I have other things to say about this poem, but I am blown away right now. I will add to this later, after he awakens from his nap.

Much peace, light and love,
Amber

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

We all want to be in the playground. This poem shows a lot of enery. I want some of that.
;-)

Ron

Reviewed by Kate Burnside

... I had read this a couple of times, waiting for the "ka-ching!" moment and, as I got it, the page changed seemingly before my very eyes! I have therefore formulated my response according to your previous, "enigmatic echo" version and I could really see the progression of this beautiful and evocative sequence as the angel-child plays with sand... which then becomes the glass of the beautiful youth. I think the dream interprets you as being the "statue inside" the crystal dome and that's why you feel frozen between two energies. Personally, I therefore run in my thinking with your previous final lines: "being recycled like an enigmatic echo... one night I hope to return even stronger". Yes, Senor, you will - because you are the originator of that crystal globe, the ethereal snowdome representative of so much of your subliminal synaptic universe. ka-boom-ka-ching!! :)) xx

Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE (Reader)

...delicate and serene, palpably pristine, hued with an inexpressive sense of longing, lovingly expressed and adroitly adumbrated throughout this truly lovely verse... each one of your dreams is spun not of gossamer, but of fine glass that affords a unique perspective on yourself, your world, and those around you... thanks, thanks so much for sharing this, yet another in a fine sequence of dream juice!...

May the peace that you now know transcend the peace you once had.
Roger

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton

Surreal from first line to the last. It's like reading the moving air to read some of your poetry, Jude.

Reviewed by T Jett (Reader)

Reviewed on March 20, 2012

beautiful, moving poetry, Jude ...

Reviewed by Asa Seeley

never had a dream about an angel, well...not that kind, anyhow(smile). thanks for sharing

asa