Monster Behind the Door: a Dream

author’s note:

From experience, I say: dreams don’t lie.


MONSTER BEHIND THE DOOR: A DREAM

I decided to face that monster
I could feel lurking
on the opposite side of the door.

But as I pulled the knob
that beast pulled against my pull

so I gave up and tried
to push the door all the way shut

but then that shadow force
pushed against my push.

In nervous frustration
I then upped my courage
another notch:

I stopped

and stepped back

which allowed the door
to swing open.
Darkness suddenly vanished
into light then
and the wail I’d heard
coming from a banshee
became the cry of a small child
abandoned on the floor.

Unfortunately
I awoke from the dream then

so I can’t tell you if I lifted that child up

but from experience
I can say for certain:
once opened
those doors do not close.

The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Before a Step

author's note:

I may be a fraidy cat.  But I'm a fraidy cat with curiosity.


BEFORE A STEP

In the dream, a door swings open

as if daring me to step inside.

I want to accept
but because I see
only darkness beyond
I hesitate

even though I know
I'll eventually step--
just because I'm so
damn curious.

If I'd employed that guide
I wouldn't feel this fear

but without fear
how I can realize my strength?

Yes, when I finally step
at first, I'll feel lost

but whatever path I then find
will be my own.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

How Her Mundane Life Became Visionary

author’s note:

January 25 is Robert Burns night in Scotland.

To be honest, I don't know his work that well...

But I like the idea of honoring a poet with a special night.


HOW HER MUNDANE LIFE BECAME VISIONARY

In her dream, a door
swung open to reveal
a wild grass field--

all those stalks
with their luminous tips
darkening down to secret roots

while in the near distance
blue wildflowers circled
the stonewall of a well

then, on the horizon
a purple mountain rose above white mist--
a mysterious pyramid beckoning.

She woke believing this dream proved
a new door would soon open for her--
she’d step from the humdrum
into the visionary life she'd envisioned
for herself

but her patient waiting
didn’t persuade the door
nor did a fierce push

and so
hoping to avoid the pain of frustration
she accepted that job painting stock scenes
on handmade tea cups:

with a few deft strokes of her brushes
she'd create a warmhearted scenario
on the side of each cup--
for instance
a doe and her fawn watching
a rising sun wake
a mellow blue meadow.

As expected
this repetitive work
dulled mind and body
and so, her thoughts shifted from doors
to rummage instead
through the cluttered minutiae
of her mundane life

until...

near the end of one workday
her blank mind lost track
of the routine
and when she snapped her focus back
our painter suddenly saw the usual
with new eyes--

saw anew
the little ceramic cup
she held in her hand--
saw anew
the quiet scene
of a sleeping cottage
watched over by
a full vanilla moon:

the rendering, mediocre
but in its lack of affectation
so innocent...so pure...

what'd seemed so trite
then became the ideal.

Though the five o’clock bell
soon broke her spell
she remained receptive

and so
as our artist opened
the warehouse exit door
she saw anew

the big trash barrel

the gray parking lot
with its faded yellow stripes

and at its border
the beige stucco wall
of the building next door--

saw anew
and finally realized

those things were
her green field
her well
her blue flowers
her purple mountain

her dream.

From that time on
she found her dream
in so many places
in so many things:

as a result
her ordinary world
became an extraordinary world
and her mundane life
became visionary.

listening to silence: poetry ebook
© 2018, Michael R. Patton

Another World

author’s note:

Recently, someone asked me how I find contentment...

Not something I usually think about...but I do know that I can find it by discovering beauty in the commonplace.


ANOTHER WORLD

Sometimes I sense the presence
of another world

lurking like a monolith
--like a dark castle gate--
somewhere over my left shoulder

but when I turn to witness
I find only a blank space

nonetheless,
I can feel the absence
and so, that world
still seems real to me:

I'm tantalized--
for years I've searched
for the pass key:

so much work and yet
I remain frustrated...

except in odd quiet moments
that come to me suddenly--

in that stillness, this mundane world
is seen again, felt again, heard again

known again
but known differently--
known as strange:

even the stones seem to brim with life

or especially the stones

even old familiar doors
hold mystery

or especially those doors.

At such times,
whatever object I experience
becomes a door slowly opening:

I discover secrets everywhere.

After such times, I wonder:
did I step through the mirror?--
did I pass through the gate?

© 2015, Michael R. Patton
dream steps: the blog