Reality: A Dream's Pitch (poem) by Odin odin@aflx.com on AuthorsDen

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Reality: A Dream's Pitch

by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com

Enigmatic images sometime become one’s most trusted companions in the quest for oneness.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Reality: A Dream's Pitch

Night
Ghost town
Distant lightning
Portends shadowy life
Tumbleweed meanders empty street
Coyote yelps
Turns into woman running
Desert hotel looms ominous
Old woman enters top floor room

Dust and sand swirl up stairwell
Across plank flooring
Shrouding woman's face before mirror askew
Reflecting lines of furrowed harvest
Plantings spent

Changes dress
Walks into watercolor painting
Ascends mountain
Woman disappears in clouds
Picture frame closes around

Eyes burn through gray shrouded peak
Seeks out ghost town below
More lightning
Shadows dance between buildings
Tumbleweed advances
Climbs to mountain top
Rests beside woman

Picture frame re-opens
Woman steps out
Tumbleweed accompanies
Woman lays atop bed's bare springs
Tumbleweed joins

Coyote howls

Door opens

Sunrise appears

Coyote climbs atop springs
Woman cradles weed and animal
Chanting a warrior's lament
Dream's reality apparent

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Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather

Reviewed on June 15, 2012

that was fun!

Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley

Reviewed on June 15, 2012

Hmmm Stephen King :)
A vision I can see so readily and thoroughly enjoyed. "Coyote yelps
Turns into woman running" I can see the transformation before my eyes in all of this.

Wonderful imagination Odin, I loved this one!

Love and Light
Lily

Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)

Reviewed on June 15, 2012

Imagination abundance creates sublimity in all of its forms and flavors. What could be more arresting, more astonishing? What a thrill! ~~ DIana

Reviewed by Regis Auffray

Reviewed on June 13, 2012

That is some vision, Odin... ...and so very well expressed and shared via your verses here. Thank you. Love and peace to you,

Regis

Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE (Reader)

Reviewed on June 13, 2012

I feel like I've tasted of some wild rare medicinal concoction served up by a Shaman and embarked on an hallucinatory journey of self-discovering towards a suffusion of anima, animus, and animal. Instinctually resistant to these types of Don Quixote experiences, I only read it once, but that was enough to pull together some type of anthropomorphic ectoplasm of synergy and give me David Lynch flashbacks tinged with overtones of some of the psychological imagery from The Cell... I agree with Jerry, too... this has vestiges of a screenplay-like feel to it that contribute to evoking the aforementioned sensations... I enjoyed this one, Odin.

Reviewed by Kate Burnside

Reviewed on June 13, 2012

I do wonder about those trusted enigmatic images that become our touchstones in daily life; whether they are, in fact, harbingers of a parallel reality that we have already or will inhabit. They are probably particular and peculiar to each one of us and yet similar in their symbolism, intent and meaning. Are dreams and death similar? Are the images the keyholes between our shifting conscious states? As always, fascinating work, Odin, and I like that your spare but telling lines have the same effect on me as watching a conjuror take us through the stages of an illusion or trick; the same applies in that I don't know how it's done but I'm left with a feeling, an impression, a sense of visitation. Nice! :)) xx

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton

Reviewed on June 13, 2012

Surreal to the nth is this one, Odin. You wrote this like a screenplay. There is so much going on it is difficult to grasp it all at first read, so I read it three times. The woman, the tumbleweed and the coyote are joined within the progression of the frames of the screenplay that it is a glowing pleasure to follow the woman, listen to the yeps of the coyote and understand that both the tumbleweed and coyote are the woman's alternating egos, or something pretty close to it. The coyote gives out warning where warning is due and the tumbleweed shadows the woman continuously, she is never alone. Climbing that mountain is symbolic and interesting, as we have all had to climb our own treacherous mountains. After the climb and the woman and tumbleweed share the bed springs of a bed, soon the coyote joins them and as she cradles both her inner and outer selves, she is finally at one within herself.

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