The Under Water

Dreams are being dreamed
in the fog, tonight
I am a wanderer. Lost
with Fish Ghost’s, sleeping
under the sea.

I have forgotten how to breathe,
not quite forgotten –
It is destiny that calls me.

Wake me up from this walking dream!
Windows here are lucid paintings, in my head
I step into acrylic gardens, abstract
daylight, fading from realism,
a genuine art.

I am not free.
The glass captures me;
a rock spirit holds me in, forced air
thick like the sea, I cannot breathe!

And dreams are being dreamed
while the fog rolls in, white cotton torment
filling my lungs, I choke on
the Ghosts of Love, Envy, and Trust
while the dreamers
sleep with safety locks on their throats.

Where do they sail off to in
their midnight ships?
To the high deserts of the moon?
To the warm geysers of the North Star?

I want to close my eyes and follow
their pretty foot prints through
Sand Man’s castle and out to rest high
on constellations.
I want to be cradled in a comfortable Mother.
I want to swallow the Milky Way
without choking on Universal Decay.

I want to dream what the sweet dreamer’s dream,
instead of sinking deep
and deeper
into the black cold of the under water.

23 thoughts on “The Under Water

  1. Maggie Mae (love that name!) This piece is quite good. You stayed true throughout to the relationship between your dreams and the sea and the angst it induces and your desire to be released from its “wet” grip on your consciousness. Your wording is strong and compelling. Your timing is perfect. Keep up the strong writing.
    I knew there was a good reason to be following your blog!


  2. I have found my dreams of falling into the deep cold depths only to be reality as I reached for a hand that saved me time and time again over and over as I lie in a busy road, overlooked by many as garbage but found by 4 angels who saved me! There is Hope

  3. Hey Maggie. 🙂 This reads like the narrator walking through her reality that feels like an abstract, surreal illusion in comparison to the dreams of others and longing for rest and a place that feels real. That’s what it says to me anyway. Love it.

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  6. I am always so drawn to your words, woven so artfully and somehow – even in darkness, always as a safe haven. Your undeniable talent for writing is astounding to me.

  7. Wake up Maggie I think I’ve got something to say to you. Your rich imagery works to very good effect in this piece – good enough that I have my own picture of your scenes. Well done.

  8. This is brilliant, beautiful and haunting. I said a while back your style had changed and this confirms it – not that there was anything wrong with the old, but in the new you’re moving on.

    If you forget how to breathe with lungs, you use gills.

  9. Pingback: Poets Sing The Winter Blues | Lyrical Anarchy

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