Growing Up

Imagination is the 5th Dimension

When I was growing up
I would stand and watch white waves
hit against the piety
of sheep who thought themselves Kings.

When I was growing up
I'd travel on my own.
Feeling a dog's hungry moan
Would break my concentration.
But I would reach the 5th dimension
and find the limits of creation.

There are rare echoes there
found in the yellow cotton,
burnt with tobacco and ginger
on the hills of blessed harmony.

Slide through the inky shadows
and into heaven's cellar.
There's a man forgotten there
and waiting for a name
that's branded on the walls
of a child's golden chariot.

When I was growing up
I'd throw my soul into a bottle
labeled for a master's house
and stored amongst red wolves.

Author's Note

An entry into the Surrealist Poetry contest.

Reviews

[G.W. Saitreux]

You clearly demonstrate your ability to engage in surrealist work. I am particularly fond of the last three stanzas. The rhyme scheme is only immediately noticeable in the second stanza, whether or not this was intentional I'm not sure but it feels a bit off. Overall, a decent work and I hope you look into writing more surrealist work.

[Jeremy]

Thanks for the review. I purposefully wrote this very quickly because I didn't want to overthink anything I was writing. I was just thinking the words "Growing Up" over and over and I wrote the first things that came out. I wrote it very late last night and didn't really notice the rhyming until after I'd posted it, even though it's pretty obvious. I'm still happy with it, but I probably would have changed one or two words so that it didn't rhyme since that wasn't my intention.