In sleep mysteries rise,
mysteries rise in sleep.
Towards morning especially
mysteries rise in sleep.
Air lifts and sudden dives
rise in the morning in sleep.
Corridors and blocked passages,
dimly lit dives rise in sleep.
A forgotten name and a rose
this morning rose in sleep.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)
Note
Written in response to Sunday Scribblings' prompt
#98 - Sleep (and/or Teeth)
Sorry about the missing teeth. None have risen in sleep lately.
The form I'm using here is loosely based on the ghazal.
I had to look up Ghazal because I am a moron. Then I read your poem again and I understand. I learn so much from blogs. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteOh, I love this poem, just love it! It sings and sighs with mysticality...
ReplyDeletePlease don't be sorry about missing teeth. LOL
As an Indian, I do recognise the form. It suits your poem.
ReplyDeletesnooze time, baby!
This poem is almost whimsical, but has too much depth for "whimsical" to be the right word. Very evocative. Lovely.
ReplyDelete