August 6, 2024
 |  24 Comments

Budapest, one that illustrates scenery
and spirit
in starkly vivid and cataloged images,
the city whose light
dances on Danube waters,
it’s clear that they echo juxtaposition of light and dark,
of stillness and movement,
highlighting
the vibrant rhythm that pulsates through the streets,
but wait, how is it
that legs won’t move an inch?

I am frozen in place, for what reason that is yet
to be revealed,
for now, the scent of cologne and tobacco
fills the senses,
I am reminded of a dusky afternoon
when “Carl Sandburg’s voyeuristic
“Night Windows,” is being read and appreciated,
sort of like roseate clouds
hovering above the silence of glens.
It feels as though a dream within a dream.

The city wants only to be here tomorrow,
he explains, with frenzied hands
drawing on the canvass, as the mind
drifts dimly
to heaven’s height, only to augment in
a millisecond
as his lips touch the forehead,
“you’re exhausted, my darling, come
let us take rest.”

It’s lovely isn’t it, how we forget our
bearings, wrapped deep
and dark in thought,
around us the barbed-wire-hemmed,
wild oaken fence
and the barracks are weightless, as the moon absorbs
them and that’s when it strikes me,
humility
is what causes one to halt in their tracks.

Should one miss a lover’s touch,
stop, and think of the world and its chaos,
perhaps, then the incessant thrumming
of heart, won’t matter.
I am alive and writing poems while
lounging in bed,
swinging between idealistic hopes for the future
and the somewhat less perfect reality.
Goodness,
is that the alarm? Darn it! I am late!

 

 

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest 

For Truedessa’s guest prompt at dVerse where we are invited to write a poem based
on a dream. Come join us! 🩷

Posted for Poetics: Dreaming up a Poem @dVerse Poets Pub