Flashing Colors

I lie awake 

at night,

thinking of things

that may happen 

while I'm sleeping.

What if suddenly,

I were to awaken

to flashes 

of orange 

and yellow 

and blue?

What have I done?

Watching these hearts 

break,

I can never take back 

what I have done.

You all are gone, 

and I am here...

as the rain 

washes away 

what remains 

of the flashing colors.

What if 

the night before,

I had said things?

I had done things?

I regret in my waking

and fear in my sleeping.

I don't mean to hurt anyone.

I'm sorry if I did, though.

Surrounded.

What am I to do

but engulf myself

in the flashing colors as well?

20 & 22 January 2014

©LJ

I Was Dreaming

I was dreaming.

Something felt wrong;

my eyes wouldn't open.

They kept fluttering;

I couldn't see much.

All I could see

was the flashes of sunrise.

I was speaking to a friend,

and the phone fell out of my hand.

She was still talking,

but I couldn't speak.

No matter how hard I tried,

silence from my end.

But she kept talking

as if I were just listening,

and listening I was.

Sound was faint,

weak,

and shutting down.

Still laying down,

I let a song

fill the dream with joy.

I am awake.

©LJ

17 January 2014

...based on a dream I had one night earlier this week.

The Blanket & The Nightlight

The sky was clear,

and snow covers the ground;

a blanket that would take me ill

should I feign some sleep upon it.

The moon was full;

a spotlight for the blanket on the ground.

The bitter air could once more conquer

a fear of darkness from some long time ago.

But should I catch cold,

it was for innocence.

The blanket and nightlight

will help me sleep again.

©LJ

17 January 2014 

What's In A Feeling?

There's a little dance that comes about when I think of you.

Not a slow dance, a fast dance, a complicated dance; not even a simple dance to help me to my feet.

What's in a dance?  It is not but expression in beautiful motion.

It is not thought nor ability.  It is not show or tell.

Deny thy fear, and refuse criticism,

as long as one does what they love.

There's a little song that comes about when I think of you.

Not a fast song, or a slow song, or a forte, or a pianissimo; no genre could find me fast enough to keep me from singing.

What's in a song?  It is not but expression and imagination in beautifully formed words.

It is not thought nor expectation.  It is not bandwagon or testimonial.

Deny thy fear, and refuse criticism,

as long as one does what they love.

There's a little dream that comes about when I think of you.

Not a long dream, not a long dream, not a nightmare; not even a single nightly image behind softly closed eyes.

What's in a dream?  It is not but desire and imagination in a magnificent world of your very own.

It is not everything.  It is not nothing.

Deny thy fear and refuse criticism,

as long as one can love what they desire.

See, when little things come about as I think of you, I feel euphoric.

Not a feeling of depression, not a feeling of anguish; not even a hint of rage.

What's in a feeling?  It is not but emotion in its purest form.

It is not forced.  It is not something you should hide.

Deny thy fear, and refuse thy criticism,

as long as one can love their self as I love you.

Be still, thy beating heart, thou so shall seek to find;

a sparkle in thine eyes, a love so found divine.

30 April 2012

revised 21 March 2014

©LJ