Tell Me (revised)

Cloaks of solitude hit the floor,
My traveling boots outside your door.
Naked.  Vulnerable.  I come to you,
So make up lies or tell me true.
Weave a story if you please,
To curl my toes and melt my knees.
Rock me, love me, through the night,
Snuggle near and strike the light.

I want to bask in candle glow,
To feel alive and yet… I know.
Lonely hearts wear a silent mask.
Want me, I plead, but cannot ask.
Shadows pass by in the night,
Regret may steal the morning light.
So ride the crest before the wave,
Drifting back into slumber haze.

Alone, I sink into the whirl,
Of haunting dreams, a nightly swirl.
In my astral boots trimmed in fur,
I saw you with your someday her,
And slipped away without a sound,
Standing firm, feet on the ground.
Trains to nowhere revealed too much,
Without you here, I long for touch.

It makes no sense, I don’t know why,
Attempts at companionship go awry.
So tell me a story to weave into dreams,
Snuggled safe in soft moonbeams.
Pretend for a moment that all is well,
And hold me under an orator’s spell.
Thank you dear, my friend, sweet love,
Time marches on, free as a dove.

©2013 N.Barnes


Perhaps I should have picked a dark night scene image to go with the poem, but I keep thinking bloom where you are planted even if it’s in a patch of weeds.  Night dreams fade in the light of day.

So… which do you like best? 

The original is up here, could add a link but it shouldn’t be hard to find, look in the poetry section if you want to read it again. 

This version is shorter and I think stronger.

Thanks for reading!


Astral Dream Boots?

“It’s been such a long time, I think I should be going…”

That song has been in my head all frikkin day, so I had to pop Boston into the CD player for some tunes while I write this, let “Foreplay/Longtime” cycle repeat enough to irritate my neighbors.

I can’t get those traveling boots out of my head.

Maybe I could sketch them up? If I draw them, maybe I could find someone to make them, but damn, that could cost an easy two grand. Maybe more and I can’t even afford a frikkin set of 120 Faber-Castell Polychromos in the TIN box at Dick Blick.

I liked the way I felt wearing those boots in the dream. I love how they felt on me, how they looked so artsy and bohemian that they literally defined the terms.

I could walk into the unknown wearing those boots, self assurred and confident, filled with a knowing that everything is fine.

After describing the boots to Jai and Dee (a.k.a. Lady Feri from Illinois) when they popped in for a visit today, Dee suggested they might be astral travel boots.

Logic me says nah… I’ve also vetoed 99% of boot dream explanations found online as the only definition that echo how I felt wearing them included “self assured” and “confident” words. There are too many variations of boot styles for one cookie cutter meaning. These were not farm boots, work boots, rain boots, combat or even cowboyish… they were so artsy, devinely scrunched and richly textured with kind of a long haired multi-shades of dark not exactly cat fur trim curved above the knee, maybe a sable or something? They were way cooler than anything I’ve ever seen.

I think it has a lot more to say about my state of mind under current circumstances than anything else.

I feel a change season coming. It’s not here yet so I have no idea what the future holds, but it is coming. It is like when you smell rain coming before the clouds roll in, before the first drop splats.

Maybe it is just awareness of life already changing.

My only child is 29 years old today and totally doing the adult thing… she is not relying on me for anything anymore. That’s totally cool, the way it should be. It kind of amazes me and gives me a post-empty-nest thing at the same time. I’ve been playing safety net as she struggled to learn how to make it on her own for so long that it feels odd not to, but she is a strong, capable woman now with a good man beside her so that phase of my life is over.

If I had the means, I could travel. Traveling in the dream without luggage does remind me of an old “if I ever hit the lottery” fantasy of walking into an airport without telling anyone, carrying nothing but a handbag slung on my shoulder, and picking a destination of the board just to go watch the sunrise someplace else. I can see myself doing that wearing those artsy bohemian traveling boots.

Now I’m just dreaming out loud.

Tell Me (art)

This art inspired the poem, but does not visually go with the poem. Or rather, the inspiration for the poem was the words on this art combined with last night’s dream…

If I were a person of unlimited means, I would be shopping for a shoemaker to recreate the oh so fabulous traveling boots worn in the dream as those boots were so fine, an unusual design, seemed to go on forever, made of the best and trimmed in an exotic fur above the knees, definately not cheap boots and like something I have never seen. And they were called “traveling boots” in the dream, the pair I put on to leave. My sister took my other boots, also an unusual pair of very nice tall boots, and put them next to the bed of a man I love and we had words about it as that was not fair to him. Leaving my boots by his bed was like staking a claim, kind of like a cat marking her territory to ward off other cats, and I could not do that to him. So I snuck into his room and silently retrieved the boots while he was making love to another woman, which was weird to dream about but oddly, I only felt saddened, not jealous.

I don’t know what happened to that other pair of boots as dreams tend to omit things, flips to new scene, and I’m still wearing the traveling boots and carrying just a leather handbag (no baggage) as I hop a train.

I really liked those traveling boots, and not only because they looked so grand on me. They made me feel so confident and I could move with ease, as if freed of all disability. Maybe they are magical?

As for the art, they are gouche paintings, each 2.5×3.5 inches cut from a painting done just puttering around while babysitting my infant grandson and his 8 year old uncle over the weekend. (Sounds complicated? Nah, it just make me a young step-great-grandmother by future marriage.) The 8 year old loves art, so we broke out the gouche. The words were later added with Polychromos.

Thanks for reading this blog and viewing my art!

If you are into dreams, do boots mean anything?