Just such as dreams are made on,
The stuff of feathered nights
That blow away
With advent of the day.
Turns out I am so small
That all I see or seem
Falls beneath the lines
And creeps away
On feet of clay.
Turns out I've died,
Dried like a raisin in the sun
That shrivels, shrinks
And runs away
As sticky, sweet decay.
I note the allusions to Langston Hughes and Shakespeare, but the poem retains your own voice and perspective. I found the second stanza particularly moving.
ReplyDeleteI love the poem - and what it says? Yes, me too - all the time. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteThought-provoking piece... I especially like the first stanza.
ReplyDeleteoy what a progression in this...the becoming smaller can be a good thing unless we let it take us away...
ReplyDeletebeautiful movement toward sticky rest Karen... so it is.. life...death... and the sticky decay where some other form of life arises anew. Would you like to participate in the gratitude quilt this year? This will be the fourth year I'm doing this on my blog and it is very cool to read all the words of thanks linked together. To learn more about the quilt and how to add a "patch" of your own to it look at the top of my blog where you will also find links to quilts from other years.
ReplyDeleteI am right there myself at the moment. At least you had words for it Karen.
ReplyDeleteO what a romp! Shakespeare and Hughes and Eliot--or is it Pound? and the narrator gives up, o, you decide the answer the opposite of Lorraine Hansberry, tragically. If I were near, I would provide artificial respiration in hope the dreamer would find the substance to be more than dream!
ReplyDeleteMajor fan of Hughes, here. Thanks for this!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully expressed. Turns out....this is a very captivating poem!
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, an unschooled reader, all the allusions go past me. But I enjoyed the poem. I thought it was heading to a Buddhist-like discussion of losing the clinging to self-image, but instead, it seemed to dive into existential angst.
ReplyDeleteI love being taken by surprise. But I hope this in not anyone's true perceptions even if much of it is inevitable at the end of a life.