I watch the snowflakes kiss the windowpane, / Reflecting their lithe dance on your pale skin, / I feel a yearning as old as time as you rel…
Across the portals of innocence / High in the sky of desire…..........
Ahhhh…there you are…I so hoped you would come to me again… / I never know what lurks in the darkness of this my little dreamland. / O…
Im a dreamer…whether asleep or awake…but I must say that some night’s of sleep are WAY better then others…;)
SLEEPING & DREAMING / Loves lost / First kiss / Ghosts remembered / Tears shed / Laughter / Loves to come / Childhood / Roses / Chocolate co…
Oh angel face, why so forlorn? / Oh tired eyes, I see you yawn! / You will sleep here safe tonight, / It’s time now for your moonlit flight….
In bloom by Basia McAuley
in between dimensions… / traveling in unparalleled motions… / through portals unknown, / mystical and surreal zones…
visit my dreams / when I sleep / cuz as I see apparitions
I cannot sleep tonite, / My mind wanders round, / Finding hidden corners, / Messing shit about. / The dawn will be upon me, / Sooner than I’l…
All writing images poetry and lyrics copyright dimarie painter / MCN: CAF28-040F7-B76BC
in your dreams / you weave a golden tapestry / with threads / of saffron thought
Dedicated to mon amie, Erika. Written 28 April 2009. Featured in On Youth.
The ghost of him remains / like perfume on my pillow
Sorry I haven’t been around much – I started a new job for the first time in a year and half…
Just listen to his voice / and fall asleep / Just listen to his voice / and fall into a dream His voice will catch you / So you never touc…
Featured in Midnight Ramblers; Bits and Pieces; Art For the World, Young Enthusiasts; Inspired Art
out here / on the edge / the dream tugs / wanting its due / visions spiral / caressing thought / waves crash upon the veil / pushing / pulling ...
How is it I came to this point? / How could I not have seen it coming: / Said the dreamer to the dream. All those rattling chains, / th…
This came out when I stopped to consider the act of Being Brave, as opposed to the reality of Being Spineless.
She lay awake, thinking about nothing and everything; of cotton and chaos, of hyacinth and thistles. Traffic droned outside. Traffic alwa…
One of my creative writing Profs has a book called Death Writes . It’s a fictional journal, written by the grim reaper him/herself – complete with death doodles. It’s a fun read, and in it I found a list of flower meanings, which I scrawled in a journal of my own and just rediscovered. Meanings of flowers: / Hyacinth – My heart draws me to you pale dreamer. / Thistle – The poetry of life sweeps over you, leaving no trace. / Lavender – The memory of you is my only quiet joy. / Weeping Willow – My heart trembles with the memory of your vanished presence.
Slicing through my midnight train / they come, / eluding time and aim; / where memory stiff – / a bleeding frame – / from which to hang / my dr…
I wrote this in trying to convey the way of The Midnight Poetry Syphoning Process; the crossing dreamtime/ethereal barriers us human’s trying to be have; diving into the ocean of stars to bring to page that which teases…but doesn’t really wish to be caught. / It’s like that sometimes, for me. Those sneaky word-strings that hum into my ear in the middle of the night…sometimes they want to be caught…other times I feel like they are just sirens. / Pan is my muse. And as Golom would say, “Pan is tricksy!” / But boy do i love him anyway!
Beneath hay we slept / Under the solace of moon / Stars stayed to keep watch / You beside me like a rock / We were grounded by our love Be…
Inspired by the beautiful artwork of Lorenzo Castello. Thank you Lorenzo! / Art / Music
Weariness carried my body / to sleep
the stain of you
recurrent dreams
As I uncurl my cramped fingers, I release the little fangs I’ve been carrying through the seven hours and fifty three minutes of slumber.
kiss me in that dark of time / that lies between thought’s waking / and the soul’s ascension / to dream
Engel!: Es wäre ein Platz, den wir nicht wissen… written during my maths final. / jordan busson. 13 november 2009. add elucidate on: /
Battered by stormy seas / and waves of black depression, / tendrils of cold despair / seeping into soft, warm flesh.
Melancholy poem
I wake / an earthquake / in the rain; / a sacrificial lamb of light / followed by a dream… *The power and the glory, / forever and ever, ...
This is a true story. / This was a very vivid nightmare (or rather, one of my “dreamalities” as I have dubbed them, where the dream is real; a lucid dream in which both my subconscious and conscious came to the late-night party.) / anyway… / before the black-robed devil’s; the minions of The Black-maker (my also dubbed eveil step-father…who i could feel in the background, behind it all) dragged me into the portal of hell…those words came out of nowhere (and everyhwere) in my head… / and when I began reciting that prayer, the black robes writhed and screamed their way below the ground, dissipating in agony and defeat. / The Black-maker? he left pissed, I’m sure. / I woke up then; shaking like an earthquake, still speaking the end of the prayer. Outloud. / It was my own voice that woke me. / I will never forget that experience. I wrote 2 poems about this dream…this is one of them.
it is time to dream of sleep
the end of the journey. / jordan busson. 1 december 2009.
My favorite moments / are when I watch you sleep
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