Life in Poetry

Welcome to Week 23 of the Thursday Freedom of Expression Challenge hosted by

Richa at iScriblr, amazing Haiku blogger among other gems.

If you would like to know more about this challenge and join up,

Post every Thursday on a word prompt. Writing (poems, short stories, fiction, articles); reading, photography, painting, drawing, sculpture, music, film, quotes...whatever inspires you.

Today, DREAM

Dreamer, I'm nothing but a Dreamer, can I put my hands in my head,
Oh ! No !

Supertramp (my version)

Dreams are what make life liveable. They are what makes us Human. Do animals dream ? Do they have nightmares ? In Jean-Jacques Annaud's film l'Ours, the baby bear does. A toad is its' worst nightmare.

When we sleep our dreams are fuelled by what has gone on in the day or echoes of what has happened to us in the past, what we have read, listened to, seen. They spur our imaginative writing. That's why early morning writing is so valuable, so productive: our dreams are still fresh.

Our day-dreams warm-up our hearts. Our thought-through dreams set us goals and pave our way forward.

Don't let anyway take your dreams away ! If your dreams die, your inner-self dies along with them !

A boss once told me that, in life, we couldn't do what we wanted, that we were all sheep, condemned to follow the flow, to stay in rank, to stay in check !

Asshole ! I retorted that I was not a sheep but a Ram ! (I am too, Aries, )

And that I lived in the Land of 'Do-as-you-please' It took me 40 years of my life to finally get there !

Poem inspired by a Dream/Nightmare, December 2009.

She gets up and steps

into the hotel corridor.

Barefoot, her white

cotton nightdress

frayed at the edges.

Tears sewn up

summarily.

Her tread patters

on the rough carpet

along the windows.

The corridor is blasting

with light, although

all is quiet. Hundreds

of strangers huddle

under their sheets

unknown to her night walk.

She imagines blown-up

heads billowing along

towards her. Japanese

Manga freaks with no legs.

Chattering menacing teeth.

They become real and then

they disappear. A staircase winds

down from the left, blue

linoleum. Another corridor

joins her own. Daytime

explodes around her.

Future's ghosts busily

bustling towards

conference rooms

with briefcases clenched

and tight legs in tight

skirts. Blazing ties

and sleek black hair.

Hands demonstrating

a point; a laugh,

an angry shout.

The pace quickens

and time lines

stream past

the jostling crowd.

Suddenly the Present

jolts back into place.

All is still again.

Just her and the coffee

machine at the end

of the corridor,

stretching doors, floors.

©susanbauryrouchard

L'Ours de Jean-Jacques Annaud. 1988, full film (English version). The bear's dream, minute 10.00,
go here

Dreamer, Supertramp, 1974 ( Crime of the Century ).
go here

Imagine, John Lennon Live in New York City.
go here

The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blighton, 1943.
go here