Jason - Dream

On the writing:

If I am to have any success this week it is coming up with a new poem format.  Using the format I actually found pretty difficult and the resulting poem is, in my opinion, not particularly good.  That being said, the subject matter is odd, it is a variation on a few dreams I have had woven together.  In spite of the title, I don't think there is really much meaning, just a little dream oddness.

If you want to write a poem in this style it is three stanza, each with 13 lines and the rhyme pattern is abcb,adcd,aece,a.  If you send one to me, and you would like, I'll post it on the blog.

Interpretation

I contemplate my breathing in and out,
A whisper wind, spirits of exhaled thought.
The captured memories into the air.
Reclining brain Is sifting lost from caught.
Serene and still is shattered in a shout,
And so, resigned, I force myself to rise.
The moonlit room so dim becomes my snare.
When down I look I scarce believe my eyes.
I twice am there, one still and one enroute,
Body I leave, about the house I roam,
Into the hall I spy my old armchair,
Upon the seat there sets a bearded gnome.
His laugh, it does produce inside me doubt.


So I then stride near to the chestnut door,
And reach a shadow hand up to the knob.
Elusive grasps slip silent through the wood
No flesh connects. My touch the moment rob.
My mind wanting a test to then implore,
Then deeply thinks about my loss of mass.
If I am right and all Is understood,
Then in to out this ghost will surely pass.
So down I crouch to spring up off the floor,
With force I press with all my might of will.
The bonds of gravity are gone for good.
Into the night I fly, then become still.
Above with eyes held tight I hear a snore.


I feel again the weight up on my skin,
The draw to earth declares itself anew.
When I at last can see the scene unfold,
I see it is into my sixth grade class I flew.
I stand before the group and force a grIn,
My lecture is on Tolkien's use of Gnomes.
I know this dream on literature is old
So, I shift the topic to Sherlock Holmes.
It is then I realize my clothes are thin,
Look down and see I am without my pants,
So many eyes. Hardly notice the cold.
My voice, it sticks, I wish I had some plants.
I contemplate my breathing out and in.