What inspired this poem was the feeling of lingering dreams. I like listening to music, and it often inspires me to write, I was listening to Jack Johnson or Tyrone Wells or both, but it was very late at night and I just had a spark that led me to writing this whole poem. It has been edited down, believe me it was much longer before, but I was also playing with the idea of being in the ocean and this drifting feeling into the unconscious. After you've been in the pool too long, or have had a little too much too drink, you feel as if your floating, drifting in the water before you fall off into dreaming....
Chilly
foggy
mornings.
Hiding
under
covers.
Exploring
unknown
seas.
Remember
lingering
dreams.
Digging
standstill
houses.
Eating
your
words.
Dirty
socks
burning.
Breezy
potent
afternoons.
Swimming
through
sheets.
Sailing
vast
oceans.
Forgetting
leftover
conscience.
Sipping
waterless
tea.
Writing
without
ink.
Reading
between
lines.
Music
playing
silence.
Warm
sunny
evenings.
Floating
on
blankets.
Anchoring
small
harbors.
Fantasy
gradually
revealing.
Skipping
backwards
upside-down.
Walking
through
mirrors.
Answering
stupid
questions.
Questioning
stupid
answers.
Feeding
ferocious
lollipops.
Finding
your
unconscious.
Beautiful
Darling
Beautiful.
Wake-up
Wake-up
Wake-up.
I'm
still
here.
copyright Christine Locke
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