Tag Archives: dream

Fall From Grace


I dug this out of my hard drive and dusted it off, just for you guys. Heads up, it’s another strange one.

Fall From Grace

the tension
the spark ignites tinder
glances from burning windows
falling away from the sun
feathers moulting away from shoulders
flutter falter plunge
to the sea
sea of desire
flounder flap drown
siren song
draws the swimmer down
shimmering scales
flitting fins
webbed fingers
arms encircle
fascination with the unknown
tightening embrace
cruel parody of an embrace
jagged yellow fangs
sink into
a dream?
soft creeping darkness
edges of vision
warmth replacing cold
red; black; grey; white.

© Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2012.

Where did I even come up with this? Oh, my rat-maze brain.

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”  
Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

 

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Found Poetry: Is it Beginning?


Okay, so found poetry is cool.

I thought I’d give it a go, using the lyrics of the Beatles song Tomorrow Never Knows. Because I am a huge Beatles nerd, and it was playing while I pondered scouring my bookshelves for something to cobble together. Maybe it is more coincidence than design.

Also, this is harder to do than it looks.

Is it Beginning?

It is all play:
Existence is the game;
Hate and love and ignorance;
Beginning, end; Living, dead.

May you see meaning within
The shining thought,
The knowing void.

Float downstream,
Not dying, not being,
Knowing everyone.

Relax. It is not surrender.
Turn down your mind,
Mourn the dying, and
Love the living.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

I don’t know how anyone else does it, but a pencil and a pad of paper seem to work wonders with this sort of thing- one page with the original work, one with your derivative work. Though I don’t recommend crossing things out on your original work, because if you change things, eraser tends to muck it all up. The trials and tribulations of artistry! 😛

Edit: I feel a little bit bad for those words I didn’t end up using. They look so forlorn on that abandoned yellow page.

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Words of Love


I’m on a roll! Check it.

Words of Love

Carve your words into my skin
Let your scent seep into my bones
Your voice sings in my ears
And the light of your spirit sears my eyes.

So everywhere I go, I carry you;
Every time I dream you are there;
And every time I turn around,
It’s your face I hope to see.

Unleash your endless laugh,
I feel its echoes across the miles.
Your eyes shining with happiness
Light my way back to your arms.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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The Butterfly and Bee


“Maybe I’ve been here before/ I know this room, I’ve walked this floor/ I used to live alone before I knew you.”

🙂 I like Leonard Cohen. Famous Blue Raincoat is probably my favourite, but Hallelujah is rather well-known, at least through the many covers that have been done. Rufus Wainwright’s was excellent, and k.d. lang’s was pretty good too. Can’t forget Jeff Buckley’s either. Dang, there are so many.

In any case. This is about poetry. Poetry that was kind of inspired by Zhuangzi’s butterfly dream, and I believe might have been written with marker on a piece of cardboard that got rescued from the kindling box. This was on that same trip I took up with the fam-damily up to Balsam Lake.

The Butterfly and Bee

I felt the strangest sense of deja-vu
The other night around the fire
I knew I had been there
Before, I knew that smell,
I heard the same conversation
In the same words, tones and voices,
Felt that very same wind.

I took a moment, frozen
In that sameness of space and time
As though this place was the dream
And the place before, a place
Half-remembered, half-dreamt,
Was the reality.

© Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2011.

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Romeo Before Juliet


I read today’s Three Word Wednesday while listening to Hollerado’s song Juliette. This is what came out. The words were brandish, forbid and manage.

Romeo Before Juliet

He brandished his knife,
His face calm save for
The clenched jaw, and
Menacing tone of voice:
“I forbid you to see her.”

I managed to keep from
Begging by sawing into
The chicken on my plate.
After I chewed, I asked
Why she was unsuitable.

“That Rosaline is low,
Is common; you are
A Montague, my son-
Don’t you forget it.”

Then I woke, and
Sought the comfort of
My most beauteous lady-
Perhaps I may get close,
Close enough to hear
Her lilting voice, and
Place a flower in her hair.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

It’s not bad; needs some work, particularly at the end. Sometimes I feel like my free verse could be better expanded into a short story – it’s basically that anyway, but with line breaks here and there. Ugh. I don’t know.

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