About a Dream I Had

Monarch

These lift me through the airy height

These wings acquired through a night

Into a foreign world above

Of light and warmth and truth and love

What seems a dream are days gone by

When I knew nothing of the sky

Just toil on an earthly bed

And thoughts of milkweed in my head

But then I there within a husk

That dangled from an Aspen tusk

Began to form a different bent

That I knew not was Heaven meant

And now I’m lifted through this air

And though attaining beauty fair

The only thing that moves me now

Is that I share this flight somehow

 -jwm

Of the Poem

I think it was in 2008, but I was asleep one afternoon when in my dream these words- in both rhyme and meter- came to me: "But then I there within a husk / That dangled from an Aspen tusk". I woke up, I wrote them down, and for the next several weeks tried to give context to them in this poem above.

I chose the simple rhyme scheme of aabb based on the scheme given me in the dream, and adhered to iambic tetrameter as the guiding meter for the same reason.

The works of Emanuel Swedenborg heavily influenced the content and message of the poem, as did the idea of redemption.

I hope you guys enjoyed it.

My Dream, and Beslan

I know this isn’t ‘poetry’ in the proper sense of the word (a sense that I’m still trying to define concretely) … but I thought that, since dreams are essentially a of coalescing images, and poetry and imagery are intimately related, I thought I’d post on a dream I once had. 

Do you remember that absolutely horrible, horrible event that occurred in Beslan, Chechnya in September 2004? Terrorist took over a school full of children and, after negotiations collapsed three days later, they set off explosives in the gymnasium and began firing on the teachers and children … over 300 people were killed, 186 of them were children.

This disturbed me so deeply that, a year later, I had a dream that was heavily influenced by that awful event- the first and only dream I ever recorded. The second I woke up, I mean the very second I woke up, I wrote this down …

 

I'm afraid.

I feel like my assailant is all around me. But I have my gun, a black gun (a glock).

I think I'm in an old schoolhouse in Chechnya- everything is bluish gray... the paint on the walls are peeling.

Wait a second, there, about six yards ahead of me at the end of the hallway to the left, I feel a presence. I fire off three shots ... POP! POP! POP! It was really loud but the echo terminated quickly.

Now I hear movement upstairs, and some more down here... now I'm afraid.

Someone’s coming to get me.

Now I know for sure that I'm in a schoolhouse.

I think my assailant is trying to come down stairs (there are teenagers hiding in the hallways- I can see them through my periphery as I focus the gun where I think my assailant will emerge).

As a warning to my assailant, I fire two more shots down the corridor to my right... POP! POP! Loud thunderous echoes in the hall terminate quickly, my right ear is ringing.

I'm afraid and nervous, my assailant is closer, I know it (he- or maybe she- is tracking me from my gunshots).

There, ahead at about five feet to the right, there's a staircase leading up- I think my assailant is up there. I have to go.

How many bullets do I have in this gun?

There are people hiding.

I swing my gun around that staircase and point it up slightly- I thought my assailant was there (I almost shot another bullet … I'm glad I didn't).

The stairs zigzag to the left, I'm still going up- I swing my gun to the left now, slightly pointed up.

How many bullets do I have?

I'm almost at the top.

I see an empty room- it feels like someone is in here.

The paint on the walls are peeling. I am in a Chechen school.

I'm at the top.

I'm afraid.

I'm going to fire a warning shot somewhere.

Someone’s here.

I pull the trigger... 'click.' I'm out of bullets.

There's someone here-

I'm vulnerable...

... I wake up.

About a Dream

On January 26th of 2009 I completed a poem entitled Monarch- I posted it here in April of the same year without explanation.

The truth is I should have at least mentioned- in that post- a rather interesting and wonderful fact about it: that it originated in a dream.

True story. I was asleep on the couch power napping as my daughter was playing nearby ... I was in a sort of 'in-between' state of wake and sleep when gradually these very lines- in meter, mind you!- came to me:

But then I there within a husk
That dangled from an Aspen tusk

I woke up and immediately wrote it down- surprised, as I mentioned, that they rhymed and were in tetrameter.

Now I don't know how the subject of the dream emerged, but what I do know is that its point revolved around the idea internal change followed by redemption- with the cocoon (the husk) symbolizing the process.

Before I knew it I found myself completely absorbed in constructing a poem around these lines. I already knew what the meter would be, knew that quatrains would make up the stanzas, and I essentially knew that I'd use aabb as the rhyme scheme. What I didn't have was much material to construct the appropriate images for the poem.

But then- and this is no joke- the very next day Nova aired The Incredible Journey of the Butterflies, a documentary about the "2,000-mile migration of monarchs to a sanctuary in the highlands of Mexico". It goes without saying, I was thrilled.

And so the reason for this particular post was to share the source of inspiration behind the poem, namely, a dream. I'll re-post it in the comments area if you'd like to read it (or, just click on the 'Monarch' link above). Also, and I really recommend this, click the link for that documentary ... it's only 52 minutes and way worth the while.

The Night-Mare

She slept, but in a troubled night
She’d toss within her dreams:
For cruelest nightmares rose with might
And ever hellish themes-

A goblin rose from blackest bri'r
Who'd cruelest lies invent,
It mocking hoped it might aspire
To rob her righteous bent.

Then gnashing out with wicked slurs
And accusations grim,
It dragged her through the darkest firs
Where darkness grew more dim.

Then lo! there came a Lunar Light
And starry host a-flame,
Then Judgment put the imp to flight-
Who hobbing felt ashamed.

Envoi

Now placid dreams alas have come
For fled's the dreaded goblin's drum
Whose wicked accusations teemed
And made a peaceful heart feel numb-
The girl whom lunar lights redeemed.

Of the Poem (Parameters):

Stanza: Four quatrains and an envoi of five line

Meter: Alternating tetrameter and trimeter with the first four quatrains; tetrameter with envoi
Rhyme Scheme: a.b.a.b. with first four stanzas; a.a.b.a.b with last stanza

Note: line 14 and 16 are not direct rhymes (i.e. a-flame and ashamed), but rather oblique or slanted; and bri'r, of line 5, is the word brier (meant to be pronounced as a single syllable, similar to fire)

copyright © 2010

Lethe (A Broken Sonnet)

HE EDGED carefully by foot Lethe’s deep
Where those who drank were oblivion fraught;
Unaware of the wake and far from sleep,
There inly arose this, his tempted thought:

What blissful state attends her solemn brook
Where with one single sip woes wash away-
And pain too, hidden pain, flushed from its nook-
If only by tasting I taste this day?
What harm could hither come to me by dream,
Or ill fate posit this slumbering night?

So he palmed lethal liquid from her stream
When just before the fatal sip, a sight!
There, etched into a whitened cypress tree,
Pale words: Before you drink, remember me.

-jwm


Of the Poem (A Note on Lethe):

Lethe (lee-thee) is the name of one of the Greek mythological rivers of the underworld. It is said that, after having passed on to that world, her waters were offered to those who wished to rid themselves of the memories of their former lives.

The obliteration of the memory of all past ills seems to have been the tempting factor of her waters; unfortunately, this obliteration included all good and joyful memories as well. Some seemed to have overlooked this crucial element.