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Embers_Before_God
Member
since 2001-03-06
Posts 101
USA

0 posted 2001-03-19 11:24 PM



The middle of the night,
starless night—
dark, deep—
where children dream
in colors of violet and orange,
velvet maroon and aquamarine,
their vivacious eyes
catching glimpses of him
amidst the shades of their sleep;
the hues of Gossamer Goo.

He lays awake,
always awake,
in paled fields of straw,
resting his head
on a fallen tree branch,
faintly listening
to clichéd brooks babbling,
a gentle crow’s caw—
all worries of work
on the dreamland ranch
giving way, breaking through,
up and around and into
the brilliant shades
of Gossamer Goo.

Oh, the children,
how they run,
run to Gossamer Goo.
Eyes quickly drying,
golden locks flying,
gentle breaths sighing,
just for a glance,
by luck or by chance—
a “children’s only” trance—
to meet Gossamer Goo.

A man of the age
of twenty plus two,
that noble prince,
Gossamer Goo.
How the children do
adore the dreams
they dare explore,
the land of the straw
(their luck of the draw),
the fields cut through,
to glimpse the man
with the crisp, cropped locks
of the boldest, golden hue.

And does he accept
their tiniest of hands,
as they run across dreamland
in droves and bevies and bands?
Of course, through and through,
for he is the King of Sleep
their prince,
their pauper for nighttime charity
as they escape reality.
He can help you too,
that Duke of Reverie,
Gossamer Goo.

And the fields
get crushed
as their faces
are flushed,
cheeks turning
from pink to purple to blue.
They run and they rush,
they pull and they push,
they cramp and they crush,
fighting for the best place
to view
the face
of Gossamer Goo.

They huff
and they puff,
they pull at the cuff
of their bibs,
their collars,
their jeans.
They ignore their shirts,
so crooked,
so out of place,
tripping over their shoes,
untied, unlaced.
He holds in his hand,
the broken branch,
as he stands,
wiping soil from his duff,
and points at the dreamland ranch,
the home of Gossamer Goo.

The children, confused,
battered and bruised,
glance at Gossamer Goo.
He looks at them,
he too is confused.
“You don’t know?” he asks.
The children look at each other,
not knowing what to do,
for none has ever heard
the words of Gossamer Goo.
Then he understands and smiles,
so warm,
so strong,
so true,
And says,
“This is where I grew,”
“when I was a child—”
“one just like you.”
“This is the source”
“of the hues”
“of Gossamer Goo.”

Well the children
all understand,
or at least the best
that each one can.
But . . .do you?
If not,
it’s because as you grew,
you lost the ability to,
to dream and dance,
imagine too.
You forgot
how to laugh,
how to prance
through fields of straw
in bib-overalls,
hearing crows caw
until the ranch
comes into view.
You forgot you,
one of the hues
of Gossamer Goo.


Dance with me under the moon. Touch my pale skin. Devour me. Love me.

[This message has been edited by Embers_Before_God (edited 03-20-2001).]

© Copyright 2001 TkB - All Rights Reserved
Greeneyes
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Member Rara Avis
since 2000-09-09
Posts 9903
In Your Poetic Mind
1 posted 2001-03-20 12:05 PM


is this of youthful decent? a dream state? I enjoyed the words....and the flow of the words....very nice....


Greeneyes~


***

"Within you I lose myself
Without you I find myself
Wanting to be lost again."
-Unknown



Mysteria
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Member Laureate
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada
2 posted 2001-03-20 12:58 PM


Well...I still live in the Garden of Gossamer Goo, and something tells me that you do too! I remember the scratching on the window pane, and praying they would not come back again! I remember that someone lived under my bed, and I knew it was not something I made up in my head. I did not forget, and still see them. We all forget our childhood dreams, and our nightmares, and this is an excellent reminder to get back in touch with the child inside. I loved this! I would like permission to print this please?

[This message has been edited by Mysteria (edited 03-20-2001).]

Joyce Johnson
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912
Washington State
3 posted 2001-03-20 01:10 AM


This is a lovely fantasy. I'm too old to understand but my grandchild would. Very nice. Joyce
Marge Tindal
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Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores
4 posted 2001-03-20 07:12 AM


EmbersBeforeGod~
An intriguing piece.
Catches the reader in the lilting cadence.

'in paled fields of straw,
resting his head
on a fallen tree branch,
faintly listening
to clichéd brooks babbling'


Wonderfully imaginative.
~*Marge*~

~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
noles1@totcon.com


Mabel A. Dilley
Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 859
Seattle, WA, USA
5 posted 2001-03-20 09:55 AM


I'm glad I found you, for Gossamer Goo probably had a different name when I was growing up, but my shapes of nightmares lived in a large walk in closet, and I swear the clothes therein took shape and walked out of that closet many times to invade my dreams many times.

"I am not now that which I have been."

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
6 posted 2001-03-20 09:59 AM


A delight!
Katherine Chandler
Member
since 2001-03-07
Posts 280
Florida, USA
7 posted 2001-03-20 12:31 PM


I so loved this story and can relate to parts of it. I admire your creativeness and I felt like an adult was reading a bedtime story to me. I'd like permission to print this and continue to read it whenever that child in me doesn't want to be alone and afraid. This was nothing short of brilliant writing in my mind Embers. I was blessed in the reading and I thank you dear one. Kate

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
T S Eliot

Embers_Before_God
Member
since 2001-03-06
Posts 101
USA
8 posted 2001-03-20 01:40 PM


Thanks to you all...and print away...it isn't worth anything...Embers

Dance with me under the moon. Touch my pale skin. Devour me. Love me.

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