An Avian Apparition

I'm not really sure what I think of this. This is something that I can't really describe, this poem will probably never make any complete sense, and I will never fully understand what happened myself. This is a description, in some form or another of a dream I had last night. I didn't just want to forget it and I had a feeling it would remain in my mind for quite some time. I thought, it's time I wrote more about my dreams, and this one was particularly fanatical. I'm not sure if I like what I've written, because I really want to illustrate what happened properly. But this is a shot, at what was a very peculiar dream. Let me know what you think?

An Avian Apparition

Seven minutes to fall to lucid sleep
To lucid sleep I fell
And in my dreams I became a dancer
A dancer and I shall tell,
Tell of how I fell into the arms
The arms of one who seemed to be
To be something extra-ordinary

Demanding, he bent me backwards
Backwards I should bend
Should fall into his gripping grasp
His gripping grasp, I could not pretend
Pretend to ignore my inward beating
Beating inside and blooming for his presence,
And I could not deny
The desire I felt in this lucid sleep.

The peakers searched myself
Searched my inner self and he seemed to slip
To slip right through me, I couldn't seem to concentrate
To concentrate on his words
His words were blind, instead I was hypnotised
Hypnotised by his percievance
His percievance was distracting
Distracting enough for him to see
and so he layed his hands upon me
Upon me as I began to feel
That the dream was becoming real.
He plucked my fingers and the roaring pain
The roaring pain I felt aflame
Aflame my fingers he ate and thrived
But suddenly I felt alive
He munched and moaned in pleasure he groaned
He groaned and licked
the gore dripping, dripping down his lips
I observed my fetid fingertips
My fingertips which were no longer graceful.

'Be graceful' he uttered and he grabbed my ears
My ears with his avengeful claws
He smothered me with his powerful jaws
His powerful jaws which were also lips
His lips stained with my fingertips
My fingertips attached to my hands
My hands bloodied, in his hands grand
His hands grand which heled mine
Our bodies start to entertwine

Is this even man at all?
Is he swallowing me up, will he haul
Haul me into deepest alleys where only the ravens rest?
The ravens rest in sinister places.
Sinister, I question him,
He answers with lust
He answers with sin
With sin he grips me harder than before
Than before the dance and before the fall
Before the fall I was free
Has this man, this raven, captured me?

Suddenly the face starts to change
To change and starts to re-arrange
To re-arrange into something new
A girl, who stuns me,
Who stuns me too.

Her russet dress flows and wraps around her
Around her I see bells and sounds of laughter
Her eyes, her eyes are pure and white
White, she is full of mystical light
Mystical light which I want to touch
To touch her but it seems too much
She strokes my hair and whispers
Whispers that 'my fingers were delicious'
Delicious fingers, I can see
This girl is neither he or she
He or she, confused as I am
Is a fiend, and so
I ran.


~misshapenskies

(1) What comes to mind..

I thought I'd share with you something I wrote just now, whilst just thinking. Sometimes, just 5 minutes of quiet reflection can really help your writing.

This is currently untitled :)

Redcanna by Georgia O'Keefe

A hallucinogenic palette,
this scene of the warbled sun
intertwined with ribbons.
 
A brush of femininity
warbled creases
Seem to overlap
Creating a stifling wasteland 

~misshapenskies

Cloud Nine

This poem is one I wrote a while ago, I'm not sure what brought it on...
Anyway, critical comments are appreciated and I would love to hear what people think!
So without further ado, here is Cloud Nine

Cloud Nine

Haze

 stroke withdrawn cheeks

I wish to feel your depth,

suppleness of your nonentity in my

Clammed, sticky palms

Oh and how you look tonight

You knew it was an occasion to be remembered

To be hallowed

Heads will roll, to undergo

that essence of baptism

Once upon the hours of owls

 Held out a dove

And gave me a slice of

Cloud nine,

Which is what was, and now is mine.

Nightfall has a frayed black halo,

these echoes shall ring through horns

With remembrance, bound upon spite

In Twilight - I shall mourn.

First Sonnet

I wrote a sonnet for someone... It's not as easy as it looks trust me!

The reservoir
Back in the meadow seeking after him
Chasing bicycles down dreary lanes with
window panes and my feet on the brim of
 the sundown with my limbs rising weary.

Sitting we saw the altostratus clouds
like blankets that swept over the wise words
abruptly my worry seemed draped in shrouds
this atmosphere was convulsing with birds.

Swallows curled up in gratis ecstasy.
Our thumbs had a pulse with murmurations,
of what we hunted and needed to see.
You gave various clarifications.

For I see continual joy amid bliss
Look there, sweet eyelash – make your ceaseless wish.

This is very sweet, I found it on an article
the other day about optical illusions.