riding dreams

It's something about

dreams I can't remember

when my mind rambles on

running through hidden rhythms

looking for something greener.

It's something about

meeting you there in the mists

in-between natural conversation

and forgotten memories.

Having known you

and lost you and found you,

I still grieve those vacant hours

always harder before the rain comes.

It's something about

the way you hold my hand--

I'm sure of it--even if,

I can't remember how it felt.

Reviews

[C. Harter Amos]

What a wonderful poet you are, and what an illusive, beautiful painting of someone you love inside a dream you've given us! "I still grieve those vacant hours always harder before the rain comes" very profound and almost a seperate thought from the rest of the poem, still so well written; my favorite lines of the poem. Maybe because the whole poem strummed my heart-strings. Beautifully done, Emily. xx - Mimi.

[breezy]

you've definitely drawn me in.The way you weave the words together and bring in the feeling. It takes my mind and shakes my thoughts-in a good way. I feel like I've been there in those moments, feeling those feelings, and thinking those thoughts. Its so cool! i just love it:)

[Zane Mathias]

wow Great poem Emily. i absolutly love it! everything fits so well!!!!! great Job Keep up the good writes

[Gandré]

this constant ambiguity how you created this poem is that what I find so intriguing about it, and the simple plain message.... we also can weep and waill but it denigrates our faith.. in his absense your heart seems an empty inn, the feeling in the feeling, just like holding hands makes the greatest moments and I believe from those a relationship is a folded bud, lived every day anew. I missed your writing.

[Aka; Donnie (ramone) Ka..]

Oh, you have that too; the mind ramble?

I really enjoy what you didn't put here. For me, the poem speaks of quality, the act of trying to grasp the untangible, to give the ungraspable texture and definition. Thus, you've done a wonderful, raw job of creating that feeling.

[The Elder]

This is a beautiful piece of writing.
Heart felt and sincere, and expressive
of deep emotion.
Very nicely done.

[raining]

... "even if, I can't remember what it felt like" and other lines in the poem are memorible.

The rythm is subtle, that is, it rolls from line to line and pulls the eye down the page. Did you do this consciously? I found myself speeding up my scan.

..."between natural conversation and forgotten memories"...this hinted to me, seeing conversation between two friends/lovers and then the lost, perhaps beginings, of this past relationship. The haunting of how things in a relationship come to be the way they are...this might be an area of possible change... of course I could not suggest, it is only that I see something here that is "perspective" that is wanting to come forth in your writing (in you)

[shythatway]

Growing up is overrated, I think.. And to me, this is wonderful the way it is now. I love that moment where you wake up in the middle of a dream that has touched you in some way, and you know the emotions will slip away, become unexplainable, any second. But you can still get to enjoy that last moment if you just refuse to open your eyes. (Those are so much better than the ones where you sit up abruptly, wondering where the .... THAT came from. ;)) Anyway, I'm not sure if you had these kind of dreams in mind when you wrote this, but that's what you made me think about. Your poems are amazing, thank you for sharing.

[Collodi]

It's something about how you speak so honest and true, that even in the simplest of relations you are able to express a warmth of feeling and a welcome smile. This one wants to speak of friendship, a special friendship, that is not demanding yet close despite time. Reading you is like hot coffee and good conversation on a rainy day.

[John Morris]

Beautiful and sad. It is a shame how often they go together but this is an outstanding poem.

'the way you hold my hand--
I'm sure of it--even if,
I can't remember what it felt like.'


Beautiful and magnificant

[Solst Rapture]

It will grow into something, as they always do. I know that my reviews (Though I hardly do them anymore) are often boring and clinical. While you sleep, I am warming up for another day of writing and the sun is already shining. It's 9:28 and I have been up since 8 am, reading Charles Dickens', 'Great Expectations'. I'm sitting with my back to the window that overlooks the garden and at the bottom of that garden, I can't see it right now but I know it is there, stands a weather vane. On the iron rod that shows the direction of the wind stands a man who tows his horse. I always wonder where they're going. The way they are as real as life itself but at the same time a little like sounds, never quite singular, amongst them always something else, the rustling of the wind, the passing traffic, the clatter of people cooking breakfast or lunch or tea, and the wind chimes in the neighbors garden punctuating the bird song...if only we could live in those sounds for a little longer and find something greener, something as tangible as a blade of grass, by the edge of a sea or river or lake, with the opulent moon secretly smiling to all beneath, with perhaps some fishes near the surface splashing around, curious of our presence and not wanting to be overlooked, or the little mallard waddling into the water.

A nice bud here Emily. Let it grow, let it grow.