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In My Dreams by Cicely Robin Laing

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In my dreams…

I watched them play…

Up on the hill top, on a windy day…

There was no sorrow…

There was no loss…

Just a kite to fly, and a ball to toss…

Happy laughter…

The sound of running feet…

Inside this memory there was joy to meet…

The rustle of wind…

And the crack of thunder…

Spoiled my sweet feel of slumber…

Now, awake…

Beneath these layers I lay…

Wishing for the break of day…

To shed the thoughts…

And hide the tears…

Of missing you these many years…

In my dreams…

I get to play…

With you… on a hill top… far away…

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Words and image by Cicely Robin Laing © 2015

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UndercoverCat©2015CRLaing

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I am closer to death than I am to birth…
and still, I don’t know who I am…
During daylight hours I pretend to be me…
but under the covers at night, doubts fill my mind…
Dreams of second guesses and forgotten successes…
mix with flights of fancy, and horrible messes…
I toss and turn, waiting for sleep to save me…
only to find my mind never forgave me…
Deep beneath the tattered tangled blankets…
I try to find me, the one I haven’t met yet…
But every event, every thought, every action…
changes me from one moment to the next…
Each a tiny death, becomes a birth, a resurrection…
Then morning comes, and I am more tired than awake…
and still, I am who I am… rediscovered…
at least for one more day…
Is there any other way?

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Words and image by Cicely Robin Laing ©2015

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CicelyRobinLaing©2014

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I dreamed of you last night

We danced beneath the moonlit sky

Our feet intertwined

magic

smooth staccato

You Astaire

and

me sweet Audrey

Music in motion we drifted

A raft on the dark water of night time

Heartbeats our only rhythm

hip on hip

-glide-

a soft breeze

The teasing wisp of hair

gently brushed aside by your lover’s hand

Falling for the depths of your eyes

The touch of your lips

caress

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I dreamed of you last night

I dreamed

of

love

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I dreamed of you last night

my hand

in

your hand

When the sun came to shine

I awoke

warm

content

ready to dance again

I turned my head

placed my hand on your empty pillow

How much I miss you love

How much I miss

you

.

I dreamed of you last night

and tonight

when I close my eyes

I will await your lover’s kiss

and when life is done with me

we will dance again

hip on hip

smooth staccato

magic

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Day 14… Image 14… Poem 14….

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National Poetry Writing Month

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Words and Image by Cicely Robin Laing ©2015

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CicelyRobinLaing©2014

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On the other side of the door…

Dreams await…

Night time comes…

I close my eyes…

Sleep slips in…

The door opens…

The world widens…

Everything I can not do, I do…

Everything I fear, I do not…

Gravity becomes malleable, soft, bendable…

Time beats a rhythm like little children laughing in the afternoon…

Worries melt away into monsters with goatees and top hats…

The dead visit for conversation and a picnic in the park…

I can be a man, a woman, a lion, a god, a ghost…

From one moment to the next…

Yet I am always me…

I am graceful when I fall…

I never land with a thump…

Sometimes I dance with mice in fields of blue asters…

Or chase after sprites wearing dark suits and princess crowns…

I speed along, my feet never touching the ground…

I climb tall trees by swimming on the air…

And whisper magic prayers…

And then there is love…

I steal a kiss…

A passionate embrace…

My skin vibrates with anticipation…

A touch… then the elephant interrupts…

Like Louis Armstrong pelting away the blues…

Songs deeper than the ocean’s currents…

Splash like tide pools in my ears…

Time steals time…

Someone…

Pulls the curtains of my eyes…

I hear the sun rise…

Scattering golden feathers and beads of cut glass…

Finally I see the door…

It begins to close…

A hand touches my cheek and then slips away…

I can not remember where I’ve been…

But I feel the sorrow of loss…

I turn my head…

Letting my pillow hold a single tear…

When I open my eyes…

I will have forgotten…

The mice…

The top hats…

The elephant’s music…

I may remember a fleeting feeling…

Like walking through the rain clouds…

A kiss upon my cheek…

I may not…

The door closes…

And beyond it are dreams…

Of the other side…

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Day 13… Image 13… Poem 13….

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National Poetry Writing Month

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Words and Image by Cicely Robin Laing ©2015

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CicelyRobinLaing©2012

 

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I watched them…

I watched them going into the light…

They stepped forward…

Pulled by the lure of bright promise…

A narrow passage way…

Lured by wishes and gilded memories…

They gave up the darkness…

The safety…

They stepped through to the other side…

And I watched them go…

Into the light…

I’m not ready…

I will stay here…

In the darkness of night…

What is on the other side… ?

I don’t know…

But I watch them go…

Some eager… some frightened…

I watch them go…

They never come back…

Never…

I am not afraid…

Not afraid of the light…

Or the darkness…

I watch…

They do not notice me…

I am just a shadow…

A flicker at the edge of sight…

A vague memory of night…

Some step without thinking…

Some march in line…

But only one ever looked back…

And I watched him…

Knowing…

I was the watcher…

But this time…

He was looking at me…

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Without light there is no darkness…

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Poetry and Photography by Cicely Robin Laing © 2014

 

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CicelyRobinLaing©2012.

I lay down beneath the old willow tree…

Watching the wind twist light and shadows…

Time stops as I slip into a dream of sound…

Cicadas dig into my mind with their buzzsaw song…

Lost and lonely frogs chirp a constant trill on top of the beginning of night…

The lengthening shadows stretch out like my thoughts…

I close my eyes and let the red and gold ghosts play across the inside of my lids…

Waiting for the sun to dip out of sight behind a sea of cattails…

I came here to reflect… but my mind is empty… asleep…

My life becomes a dream… caught in the lines of a poem…

Like the pen slipped into the end of a spiral bound notebook…

Unused and forgotten until a new thought comes along…

The poet pulls the pen out… but I slide down the tunnel of wire…

Light and time fight with reality… the dream wins…

I ride the vortex… falling… faster and faster….

Then… my heart stops… just for a moment…

I am yanked back into the world…

The sun has set…

The frogs have gone…

And the moon tells me it’s time to go home….

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If you want to get something done… don’t lay down under a willow tree…
I’m just saying….

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Now that the busiest part of my November is over, I am going to try very hard to get back to posting here regularly. It can’t be everyday. With homeschooling my son, keeping up with my teenage daughters and working with my improv groups, a daily post is just not possible. My life is just too chaotic…

But I want to keep going with making improvised poems and posting images. And on occasion, sharing a struggle or thought about my life here with you. Hopefully there will be more laughs than tears… and more joy than sorrow… but in either case… thank you…. really! Thank you!… for taking the time to read my bit of Nonsense…. ❤

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Photography & words by Cicely Robin Laing © 2014

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CicelyRobinLaing©2014

 

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My name is Wind Walker.
I live in the clouds…
I lay my head on pillows of dreams…
And I eat wishes for brunch…

On days that the wind is kind…
I get to walk from cloud to cloud…
I don’t fly…
I don’t have wings…

I walk…
Remember my name…
I walk on moving air…
The Earth’s breath is my highway.

Sometimes birds visit me…
I like birds…
They have lots of stories…
About trees, and lakes, and dirt, and worms…

I don’t know what those things are…
But they sound wonderful…
Sometimes…
When the clouds drop really low…

I can almost see the ground…
When the sun rises…
and I might get a peek…
at a mountain top.

Then the wind rushes in…
and carries me away…
But that’s okay…
I have other things to do…

I dance in lightning storms…
and bath in rain and snow…
I stir up tornados…
and I make pictures that dissolve for those below…

I used to keep a collection…
of hail stones and Autumn leaves…
And shiny discs to toss around…
perhaps you’ve seen one of these?

But most treasured possession…
was a feather given to me…
by a passing eagle…
who took pity and gifted it to me.

But clouds are not good at holding things…
and the wind is a selfish mistress…
My bits of things were scattered…
but it’s only the feather I miss.

My name is Wind Walker…
and I live in the clouds…
I can not fly…
But the Earth’s breath is my highway.

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A belated and rather airy improv tale for “Tale Spin Tuesday”…

I owe this one for September 30th as part of last month’s project…

October’s project is brewing and will boil over sometime in the coming week.

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Image and words by Cicely Robin Laing © 2014

 

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