Poetry and personal blog – Spilling my guts to strangers

Dreamscape #6

As she waited in the deepest dark
Of a windowless house
In the absence of
True connection but
Needing it real
She was touched by hands
As soft as rain on her cheek
That fell to the corners of her mouth
Water seeped in tasting of cinnamon

The fingers caressed her neck
Until her throat was airless
Rain became torrent
Wet hands guided her down a sink hole

Loved to near unconsciousness
And her tongue burning sweetness
She had no choice but to
Fall through the ground like a ghost

Waist deep in concrete and fading
She harbored no hope
Of ever seeing the sky again
But as if a mirage
The door to her house
Peeled back from the top
Like a page turning
Streaming sunlight in those moments
Before the earth swallowed her eyes

Outside her savior peered in to see
Cold hard ground and emptiness


© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013. Do not reproduce without permission.

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013


Comments on: "Dreamscape #6" (8)

  1. galenpearl said:

    What a vivid image to go with a startling photo. So glad you share your self with the webby world!

  2. Wow, Adriene–I loved the cold and passionate way of this poem.

  3. Blown away, Adriene, just blown away! Your words transform and transport at the same time. I’m blessed to know you . . .

  4. Penelope J. said:

    What can I say? Magnificent!

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