Tag / Dreams

by J M Greff

My midnight muse

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You dance within the twilight of my dreams
Whimsical and lithe
Lingering here
Darting there
A firefly in the dark
A flickering spark
Playful
Alluring
Enticing
Enchanting
A shimmering vapor drifting through shadow
Your heart beating in pyrophoric frenzy
A strobing cannon
A beacon in the cavern of my soul
Inviting me
Drawing me
Beckoning
Further
Always further
Always closer
Always just out of reach
So I climb
 and scramble 
and hazard these frozen depths
Careless of rope or harness or blaze
Because where you go
Returns us to the surface
And once in the light of day
We
Will mock the sun
Together

Image by Jonatan Pie.

by J M Greff

Captured

misty.veil

Arms out touching phantom limbs and ephemeral vine.
Closed eyes focused on aery chimera that plays like
faded film, enshrouding me in palpable memory like a mist.
August oaks and resurrection fern and aged buildings
replaced by towering cypress, snow wreath,
rhododendron tall as the homes lining these neglected streets
broken by root allowing the very least of natures
determination to reclaim, one minuscule stem, one straggling stalk,
one unnoticed flower at a time, its verdant refuge,
once sanctuary to boundless existence long since
consumed by distressed homes, distressed economies,
distressed people.

Not now. Not in this moment. In this moment I am alone in
ancient woods making my way along a secret trail
winding through prehistoric marsh fed by countless miles of
free flowing rivers giving life to this lush alluvium filled with
musky smells of decayed wood and stale water and something
sweetly familiar I can’t put a name to.

If you saw me there, on that canted sidewalk, you might think
I was mad or lost or wandering under the influence of
something other than my imagination. If you looked
closer you would see a smile. If you noticed me at all.

More likely you would pass by without second glance
accelerating to whatever urgent appointment or function or task you
scurry to. “Nevermind the crazy man”, mother says to
daughter, ears stopped with buds to obstruct the uninvited,
eyes adjusted to the screen of the tiny world she holds in her
hands while thumbs impulsively tap out affirmations or declarations or
insinuations with inherent indifference to a faceless complicant
selected as benefant, marginally amused at mother’s dumb
mouth, assigning words consistent with expectations in place
of those overridden by disapproved music. “Are you listening to me?”

Mother chatters voicelessly. A silent movie. A mime.
Daughter sneers. Fires a message of discontent into the void.
Co-conspirators.

You have missed far too much.
Where are you going
that you have no time to look?
To see.
What horizon are you fixed upon
that blinds you to miracles?
To live.
How can you occupy the same space
without sharing it?
To love.

I see you drive by as in a dream, intruder, trespasser to my vision.
Out of place and time. The vision is disrupted.
The winding path is replaced by
fractured concrete.
Smells of sacred land replaced by
exhaust fumes and humanity.
Rhododendron to azalea.
Snow wreath to palm.
Cypress to oak.
Marsh to asphalt.
The veil lifts.

The image remains.

Captured.

Image: “Misty Veil” by JMGreff

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by J M Greff

Morning Glory

dog-in-shining-armor

Drift sweetly
in your morning haze
lit with candles
from yesterdays
and colored with candied memories
of tomorrows yet to spend

Dance in the streets
with everyone you meet there
dressed in gala clothing
in a hurry where they’re going
to become what you will make them
Spring diving
or hang gliding
or skipping rope on a waterfall

Chased by a loyal brown dog
shining like a knighted rhinoceros
until tamed by your touch
and led safely to your yard
where rabbit trees
sing lullaby’s
and nesting birds
share spoken word
like beaked beatniks
while monkeys prepare
for flights to who knows where
and you
true goddess
command all
in sacred serenity

Hush now, Love
don’t you rise
there’s still so much to see
so much to do
so much to be
just close your eyes
and drift
enjoy your morning glory
while I make the morning tea
and wonder where you are

 

by J M Greff

All is well

Frustration has gotten the best of me
I rest my head
On this little couch
In my little home
Close my eyes
Blurred with tears
Weary from failures
Too many times seen

I am exhausted
Sleep crawls over me
Emotions
Like a hard rain
Fall on me
Where dreams of you
Drift out from the cracks in my soul
Left open
For you to seep in
Like a healing mist

You fill the voids
The empty places
Fill me with hope
Desire
Passion
Love

I wake hard
Touching myself
With apprehension
Fear that I have been alone too long
Fear I will fail
Overreact
Fear of the known
The unknown
Fear of my Self
Fear of fear

Then a calm
Like a blanket
Falls on me
As I feel you here with me
I let go
Let you in
I release fear
Embrace love
Breathe you in

My mind fills with thoughts of you
In my arms
My bed
My home
My life
My heart
My soul

I see what is
What can be
If we let it
It is good
And all is well

 

 

 

 

Image: “The Sourse of Inspiration” by Artem Chebokha

by J M Greff

This morning

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I lay in bed this morning
and tried to imagine you there.
Would you be facing me?
Would I feel your breath on me?
Do you lay on your back?
Your belly?
Or would your back be to me?
What sounds would you be making?
Soft mewls like a kitten?
Loud and long?
Silent shallow breath?
If I whispered to you
would you respond?
Would you speak the words
I long to hear?
Would my name be on your lips?
Could I kiss those lips
to coax those words?
Could I kiss your neck
your back
your breasts
your belly
without waking you?
How many kisses would it take before you did?
If I reached out to touch you
how far could I explore?
How deep?
Would you respond to my touch?
If I pressed my growing hardness against you
would you press back?
Would you spread your legs just a little
as you slept?
Would you wake with a smile?
Invite me in?
Or would you pull away?

I will have those answers soon.
I will wake in the morning
hard with dreams of you.
Your name on my lips.
Your warmth
and your scent
mixed with mine.
The taste of you in my mouth.
Instead of this meager imagination
that drives my hand
to reach out to emptiness
as if you were there
and touches
only myself
I will feel you next to me
under me
driving my passion
deep inside
and we will know.

 

 

 

by J M Greff

In this field of dreams

 

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Though I walk alone in this golden field I feel you occupy the spaces I have created for you in my heart. I reach out to you with my soul and find you waiting. Always there. Always ready.

As the sun rises I see you revealed in front of me, a play of light on the morning mist transformed by the magic of this day and this place into you. There and not there. A welcome vision that begs me “follow.”

You dance playfully ahead of me, leading me through this field of gold that sways in the light breeze as if to an unheard song. It is the song of the Universe. A song in which we play a line of perfect harmony.

You wear sandles to protect your feet as you skip and run ahead of me but you are dressed as you were before we made love last night. Panties that cling to your beckoning moisture. A sleeveless top that exposes your soft belly that invites my kisses and celebrates the curve of your soft breasts. You are more beautiful than the rising sun, more alluring than a cool spring on a hot day, more graceful than the birds that sing your name, more inspiring than this field of dreams I follow you through.

You turn your head to me and smile or hop backwards as you laugh and call out to me then dance ahead again as you sing songs with outrageous lyrics and laugh with innocence at the filthy words that conjure sensual delight. You are drunk on passion. Filled with an enticing energy that can not be ignored. Why would even consider ignoring you? Never!

You are a nymph sent by the goddess intent on seducing me with song and dance. You are goddess possessed. You are playful sprite. Your laughter is a siren call that I am bound by.

But in this mystic island caught outside time, there are no shores to crash upon. No hidden pond to drown in. No tricks of delight.

Here I become satyr to your nymph as I follow you. I long to take you here, now and forever in this sacred place. Though there is no mythical altar to offer my devotion I worship upon the altar of your heart which I carry always with me and where a blazing fire always rages.

You reach the highest point then slow, your song now turned to a sweet lull, a hum, you turn to me, head lowered with a knowing smile, lips parting, eyes locked on mine, arms raised slightly from your sides, palms facing me, fingers spread, welcoming my tender embrace as I step into you, pull you close, and whisper the words, “Soon, My Love.”

I stand there for an eternity. Not wanting to leave this place. Wanting only to feel your skin against mine, our lips brushing, hands touching and tracing each other, hearts beating as one, souls joined, but the morning grows late.

I open my eyes and the field, though just a field, is now something more. Something truly magic. Though you were never here your presence remains. I can feel the warmth of you even now and hear those words you said as I watched you fade away as if they were a spell, “Yes, Darling. Soon.”

 

 

 

Image by J.M.Greff

by J M Greff

on the shore of dreams (2010)

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on the shore of dreams
SATURDAY, 27. FEBRUARY 2010, 17:57:36

 

morning
the color of mist
breaks through my window
and casts a single shadow

alone
through the night
I wake with you beside
and watch you fade away

a smile
faint and dark
as the hope I keep inside
that all around is just a dream

reminders
of distant pasts
on empty shores

and memories
bright as daylight

bring me to your arms
as I drift again
to sleep

 

by J M Greff

deprivation:inspiration

lucid.dreaming.rem.by emma.thorstensen

woke
with deprivation
inspiration
the dreams I sought
pervaded
and evaded
dodged
and ducked
vanished at a touch
offering just a taste
of their sweet promise
like sirens
that taunt and tempt
and draw me to their depth
to drown
what I long to resurrect
or phantoms
that drift and swirl
and haunt my thoughts
throughout the day
until
slowly
with resolve
each is captured
sorted
and released
here
the sirens song complete
the phantoms fade
the nectar tasted
and the words begin to flow

 

Image: “Ludic Dreaming: REM” by Emma Thorstensen