Wednesday, August 16, 2006

XXII - A Dream

A Dream
.In memory of Joan Heys.
I dreamt about a distant place,
All white, yet strangely warm;
Where all was elegance and grace:
There was presence but no form.

Into this quiet and peaceful scene
A man stepped into view;
He was both strong and cut quite clean.
A woman stood there, too.

He looked at her, and with a smile,
Remembered when they’d wed;
“I’m glad you’ve come. It’s been a while.”
“A friend sent me” she said.

Happy with the eons spanned
They embraced and gently kissed;
Then they turned, and hand in hand,
Slipped off into the mist.

© J Cosmo Newbery

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  1. Lovely and sad at the same time!

  2. I take it that the friend was pneumonia?

  3. After my parents died, I found a photo of them walking arm and arm into a forest. I like to think of them that way now. Your poem reminded me of it - sad, but sweet too.

  4. /bark bark bark

    nice juxta


  5. Dang!
    When ya come back, y'all really COME BACK!

    Cool lil jewel, and, welcome back....

    or..are you writing from "up there?"

  6. Boneman, that was a lovely thing to say. Thank you.

    I am still here. It will be smoke, not mist, when I go.

  7. "There was presence but no form..."

    What a lovely line, Cosmo.

  8. I came back for another read of this one, my father died yesterday, I hope that he gets to see his Mother again. I am not sure of my own feelings about the hereafter, but I know they both believed.

  9. I am sorry to hear about your father, Nea. If the poem helped in some small way then that is the most beautiful reward I can have for writing it.

  10. so cosmo- you have been found found?

    lovely poem.

    nea - my thoughts with you.

  11. Thank you Cosmo, yes it helps, I come and read it occasionally. My dad's was worth a nickle at the end, so sad, I really do hope he sees his Mom. he really loved her a lot, he was the baby of his family.

    thank you Bird.....I .........ah, nothing to say really, I am mostly at a loss over his death, I rushed home, but just to put him in a hospice. He didn't now me.

  12. this is beautiful, cosmo...

  13. Isn't it funny how sometimes we can look at the moon and it seems so bright and big?
    And other times just a spot. Still bright, but only as large as a fig.

    And the stars sparkle sharply as diamonds on back velvet cloth.
    And how candles flames flicker so, as if signaling to the moth.

    But not always are they there, can't always be seen at all. Clouds obscure, wind blows out.
    Yet, still, they are there. They exist in some way. Well, except for the candle's flame being about.

    Kind'a like yer words, their measure of things good and fine.
    Like traversing a bridge to escape this inferno of a life that is mine.

    I don't mean to complain, only call for your return, though only should you want to come back.
    And, I'm sure I'm not the only one, we wander over often, looking t'see if you've left a new track.

    Everyone needs time, sometimes. All beauty needs a break, thus the clouds and the wind, eh?
    But, should y'find yerself writing again, please remember us. We value what yu have to say.

  14. Bless you Boneman. Thank you. I will return; but not tonight. My poems are fairly archaic in style but take a lot of time to grow and evolve; something in precious short supply at the moment.

  15. Merry Christmas you
    who hides in the fog and smoke
    May great times and many laughs come to you (with or without a joke)
    May all yer rhythm be snappy when y'want it to be
    or, should you want, dripping with syrup and honey.

    You three guys have given me a gift I cannot repay.
    Though I don't ALWAYS do it, I love to poetically say

    all sorts of things.
    and sometime sings.
    but folks throw things.
    'cause m'voice kind'a stings.

    oh well.

    Merry Christmas, J Cosmo Newberry
    and Happy New Year, too.
    May you find many wonderful things poked in yer shoe.
    (and if so, may you see them before stickin' yer foot in
    because after all, someone may give you a new pecil and pen....

    and THAT would hurt.)

    ho ho ho

  16. Thank you Boneman. And bless you.


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