Dare We Dream?

Invisible light path

Upon which light stream,

The breath of dream

Music of our fright

Or Aria of delight in morniong

Sky– illusion of insight

Our negativity lies as we live

In spice of negativity of people

Who dwell in Plato’s cave, most

With shadows deep into which

They hide their fright.

They move between more of night

And less of day, of lingering light at mouth

Of grave opening of day into which

They lay traps of words, apples of knowledge

Without wisdom for me– various others

Creative in our plan, without leaves,

Plants dead in shadow of perpetual

Night, I slipped away at age 22,

Wise beyond my own sly eyes,

Writing words, delight into mind

More of essence and more of slight

These diving into embers left

Firm fires left from those

Of us who escaped cold caves

For gardens, gardens where

We dug our way out by sweat

Of brow, working land always working

Soil to grow poems which sprout

Love, into trees created from genes

Cells we discovered from science

Art, music, poems wound like

Serpents of desire teaching more,

More than ignorance of caves.

More mind over; never soft

All about diurnal flight.

Published by elgwynone

I was a University and community college instructor before retiring. I also worked in fast food restaurants, and retail stores. I am an ordinary man writing for because I want to write and because my education prepared me to write; BA English lit, MA English, EdS higher education, and MFA creative writing, free verse poetry and essays. Blogs are an answer to high-priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to self-publish his first 1000 copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass because in 1855 poetry did not sell. Most poets make a living in other ways than writing. Wallace Stevens was an insurance executive, and TS Eliot was a banker. Many writers teach, and always there have been writers who have written because they needed to express their thoughts and feelings. They wrote not necessarily to make money but to express "the old universal truths of the human heart" according to Faulkner. Here I reach a wider audience I missed than by self-publishing, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience for less expense than self-publishing. I self-published my first books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude; poetry and photo books which were easier to self-publish than to seek a not to seek a publisher company. This blog allows me to write for an interested audience because I write poetry and personal essays. I write for a friendly audience and present to you a slice of my writing. Perhaps you will enjoy what you read.

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