Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Dreams - by Bob Atkinson

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

block the sun with hand held high
as you move from place to place
shunning all forms of irritation
with style and practiced grace

call those simple pleasures
ones we seek so many of
strip those dark incantations
down to the barest love

sweat pours from a body
from feelings held to chest
our needs reduced to simple forms
our loudest protests held with breath

tell me if I'm overdone
am I so out of place
as to dream some dreams of glory
impossible in these days of strong duress

I pass the tree of wonder
growing from the salted ground
as we discover growth comes fast
when life forms here in the round

tell me if I'm never to
see dreams come under light
those perturbed by simple pleasures
strength of will thought out by night

send me through that maze complex
of interactions with the crowd
and let me form my own opinions
some fruitful, some unsound

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