Map Of Time

Another poem in the "Map" sequence.  It doesn't seem to have any specific inspiration other than taking the cue from previous poems in the series and a vague hint of Salvador Dali with the rolled clock.





Map Of Time  -  26 Apr 13


Unrolled
Ticking clock
A bell strikes an hour but
I lose count

Forgetting
Where we are
A face shines out an our but
Whose our?

Dawn
Conducts the choir
Chorus sings a medley
In random keys

Waking
Remembered that
Of all the times we see and share
Are any real?

Sun
Fingers of light walking
Across the shape of the day ~ into
Time’s map

Another touch of surrealism ~ one day I shall have to work on creating something totally surreal with the assistance of Muse.

Map of the Dream

After my comments in the outro of the last poem posted here, in which I stated that I didn't know if there were going to be more in the "Map" series, Muse presented me with ideas for yet another poem.  It has to be said that, I now feel that there are even more to come.





Map of the Dream  -  24 Apr 13


Wrapped in our dreams
Feeling the icicles of night
Chiming in discord
Hearing old words
Ring out

The cracked bell of dream
An impress of dark
Glides against the Moon
And shatters her myth
As we watch

Asking for the dawn to break
Fracture
A crack of light welcomed
But is it the sun
Or …

Darkness returns
To claim the thoughts
Fantasies fly to taunt the passing
Mares …
We await the next dream

When these new poems are to arrive I cannot guess but I am waiting ...

In the Moment of the Rising Dream

This is another of the poems which took a little while to fully emerge, the main title and the section titles appeared first - followed a few hours later by the first and third sections. The central section only appeared after a full day but I feel that the wait was worth it.

The terms "first contact" and "last contact" are space-watchers terms to denote the moments when the leading edge and the trailing edge of the observed thing, like the Moon, appears above then clears the sky-line.





In the Moment of the Rising Dream - 09 Dec 11


First Contact

The church bell
Starts to call the midnight hour
Ensnares my mind
Thoughts drifting In the cage
Of yesterday


Transit


She stood
Stared
Into the fountain’s mirror
Rippled image

She tried to catch
The fleeting shapes
As they left a trail
Across her mind

Glittering in the dark
Trying to rival
The stars
They shine

Dream fragments
Show untidily
Disturbed by the fading
Bell


Last Contact

Once the echoes
Faded
Broken Into single tones
Teased my memories
Tomorrow starts to run





I hope you enjoy this new offering. Thank you Muse for your prompting.

The Cloister Bell

The opening line of this poem had been in my mind for a couple of days, though I had no idea where it was leading me...till yesterday, when more started to grow and the end result I now present here.

Cloister Cemetery in the Snow
Caspar David Friedrich
[1810]

The Cloister Bell - 24 Nov 11

The Cloister bell
…Cracked…
Rang in discord
Across the endless snow
…Muffled…
Crows, rooks and ravens
In funereal waed
Cluster round
The fresh dug grave
Eye the stones
With their worn-out words
Unread through ages
Hooded eyes watch
With predatory air

Landscape mocks
White on black
The mourners
Black on white

A solitary scarlet rose
Cast upon the ground
Mocks blood
Soon hidden by the snow
Ignored by the birds

Then silence
Save the Cloister bell
Tolling





One word may need to be explained ~ Waed [pronounced “weed”] is an Old English word meaning, “garment”. It still is in use, with the spelling "weed", in the phrase "widow's weeds"
referring to the mourning clothes.

I thank my Muse for hinting so strongly about what I needed to do for this poem.

This is my offering for:
http://dversepoets.com/2011/11/29/openlinknight-week-20/