A Waking Dream Looking for a light, lying on a fragile scheme, I woke in the midst of an elusive, sheltered dream. Before me he stood, his head bowed low, Covered by a bascinet that reflected a stark, eerie glow. On his gauntleted hand sat a peregrine proud, Its wings spread majestically, casting shadows tight as shroud. In the corner of my room stood a black destrier, Its tail fanning out, swishing the cold silent air. I lay motionless in my dream; although aware I wasn't asleep, I refused to believe it until my room became a keep. My life was a blur of what had come before, I was not tucked up tight in my cottage by the shore. He watched me through the eye slit cut into his helm And I felt that I had met him in some other lonely realm. Speechless, I found myself in a intricately woven gown-- I reached up a hand and touched the ring of my crown. My knight in heavy chain mail dropped upon one knee; The Peregrine flew off as he looked up at me. He removed his bascinet and, sitting it on the floor, The light that had glimmered out from it shone no more. "O, my queen," he did speak, his lips moving slow, Savoring each word in the wavering afterglow. "O, my queen," he repeated, still down upon his knee; Reaching out his hand, his figure flickered hauntingly. "Rise, my knight," I whispered, soft but very clear; No sooner had I spoken, I was overcome with fear. The horse, the bird, the gown, the crown, the keep all disappeared. I was back in my bed, merely dreaming--so I feared. Asleep or awake, I wondered what it meant, Why I was in my room, my emotions overspent. Rolling over in my lonely, aching bed, My hand brushed up against the back of someone's head. My knight lay asleep, curled up on his side-- Even in his repose he was a man full of pride. Although my heart clenched tightly in my chest, I did not wake him but allowed him his rest. Something had really happened in my waking dream, But who was I to question the validity of God's scheme? Dena L. Moore November 9, 2001 A Waking Dream appears in my collection, Immortality Lives, and is currently available at Amazon.com, BN.com, Walmart.com, and most other online distributors. |
Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult |
A Waking Dream Looking for a light, lying on a fragile scheme, I woke in the midst of an elusive, sheltered dream. Before me he stood, his head bowed low, Covered by a bascinet that reflected a stark, eerie glow. On his gauntleted hand sat a peregrine proud, Its wings spread majestically, casting shadows tight as shroud. In the corner of my room stood a black destrier, Its tail fanning out, swishing the cold silent air. I lay motionless in my dream; although aware I wasn't asleep, I refused to believe it until my room became a keep. My life was a blur of what had come before, I was not tucked up tight in my cottage by the shore. He watched me through the eye slit cut into his helm And I felt that I had met him in some other lonely realm. Speechless, I found myself in a intricately woven gown-- I reached up a hand and touched the ring of my crown. My knight in heavy chain mail dropped upon one knee; The Peregrine flew off as he looked up at me. He removed his bascinet and, sitting it on the floor, The light that had glimmered out from it shone no more. "O, my queen," he did speak, his lips moving slow, Savoring each word in the wavering afterglow. "O, my queen," he repeated, still down upon his knee; Reaching out his hand, his figure flickered hauntingly. "Rise, my knight," I whispered, soft but very clear; No sooner had I spoken, I was overcome with fear. The horse, the bird, the gown, the crown, the keep all disappeared. I was back in my bed, merely dreaming--so I feared. Asleep or awake, I wondered what it meant, Why I was in my room, my emotions overspent. Rolling over in my lonely, aching bed, My hand brushed up against the back of someone's head. My knight lay asleep, curled up on his side-- Even in his repose he was a man full of pride. Although my heart clenched tightly in my chest, I did not wake him but allowed him his rest. Something had really happened in my waking dream, But who was I to question the validity of God's scheme? Dena L. Moore November 9, 2001 A Waking Dream appears in my collection, Immortality Lives, and is currently available at Amazon.com, BN.com, Walmart.com, and most other online distributors. |
The front page poem changes every 2-3 weeks. All work on this website are original poems by Dena L. Moore and are copyrighted. If you would like to post any of my work on your site or in print, please contact me or my publisher for permission. The poetry on this site is only a very small sampling of my work. This page was last updated on July 6, 2003 Copyright February 2001 Dena's Poetry: Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult is Written, Designed, and Maintained by Dena L. Moore |
