PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Slowly drifting through the heady smoke,
Sleep's grasp has me in a choke hold.

I crack my eyes, weighted by unseen tons,
the cleansing rivers of morning dew runs
down my cheek, sleek, dripping, seeps
into the ground below my bed
where my heavy head rests.

The gentle breeze of the sun's light
kisses my lips while I try as a might
to open these stubbornly shut eyes
through which I desire to view
the ever beautiful you...

God thank you, thank you, thank you.

I drift back into the light darkness
from where my conscience spends
dream currency, a strange sort of change.

The dividends in the end
are the fantastic materializations
of dreams that seem heaven sent.

These eyes fling wide, flooding daylight
and curtains white, my head's not quite right,
and I rise to glance sidewise and forward,
up and back to answer the question,

"Where am I at?"

But I've got no word...

none to describe that I knew - no,
I know what I know -
it's only electrical currents of the mind
behind these eyes of mine
that made it seem this time
that these dreams from the morning light
were just dreams, though they strive
to be realized.