Dreams

March 21, 2021March 21, 2021

Laughter and Dancing

They met still young before children arrived
with love in their hearts and stars in their eyes
a future unfurled beneath sunrises, sunsets
a world of youth left behind in their wake
with dreams or hopes that hid in the mist

of days that rolled out into months and years
enhanced with laughter and bittersweet tears
but he laughed and she danced to the music sweet
of life’s changing Seasons a tentative beat

times were a wash with hardship and longing
of dreams sought, built on sand always shifting
where the sun might shine bright in her eyes
she would dance, be young and he would sigh

once were parted, now a story of one more chance
he is laughing as he is watching her dance
& if you listen closely to the heavens above
are entwined in the sunset, both still in love
where eternity unfurls and the sun has risen

This poem dedicated to my dad who passed away March 13, 2021. A long life of laughter. He will be missed.

The Photo Taken is My Own of My Dad and I a Few Years Back.

August 21, 2019August 21, 2019

The Alchemy of Water

Music swells up like mighty ocean waves
cleansing the sadness of my soul
permeating my thoughts
to quell the firestorm
within my mind

to which my dreams find me walking
along a sandy tided shore
each grain of sand sparkling
diamonds in a beam
of moonlight

a vestige matching my footprints
each one a solid reflection
of a path only I have walked
in heartache, despair
& triumph

before the salty brine of tides
comes to collect them again
to assuage each painful step
becoming an alchemist balm
a freeing spirit

February 3, 2019

Dreaming of Change

Dreams live within our sleeping hours
touching our waking time
some slightly caressing
barely touching

while others create undulating pain
creating harbingers of fear
of longing and want

all innately attached to spirits
woven tightly inside our souls
like tiny invisible creatures
tugging and pulling
this way
and that

whispering changes in our ears
then shouting in our faces
when we refuse to hear

leveling the playing ground
like a bulldozer
passing through

for change always prevails
beginning as a dream
touching our skin
like a wisp of breeze

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures & Created As Art

Changes and Dreams

December 12, 2018December 12, 2018

Tarnished Dreams


Dreams follow us down each path tread
whilst children dream of flying free
as the ceiling falls away 
to reveal blackest night and stars

other dreams tarnish in light of day
youth is vanquished and vanishes 
revealing the harshness of life's littering
dreams hidden beneath its' debris

held in the ire of those who are
envious of those who dare to dream
tethered by a thread stronger
than the spider's woven web and
devoid of a destination

yet it is the ironic situation
they intuit themselves immersed in
as they observe fragments of memory
creeping closer a breath away

delivering the ultimate realization
they too have dreams longing to wake
thirsting for a heart to beat within 
which has lain dormant too long
in youth not lost but sleeping

© December 2018 Renee Espriu

The Image Was Taken From Public Domain Pictures
 & Created as Art

May 31, 2018June 1, 2018

Purveyor of Dreams

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures & Digitally Created as Art

Dream Purveyor

I am not a purveyor of dreams
for sleepless nights are undressed
and shorn of innocence
peppered weary of thoughts
like thorns

not even scented with night orchids
nor born of water lilies nocturne
viewed less in colored
prisms dim

for I do not fly weightless
high above the earth
casting giant shadows
beneath the light of the moon
revealing me integral
in the realm
of hope
of desire

I cannot be the purveyor of dreams
for life’s knowing opens
only to one garnering dreams
in nights deepest sleep
with orchids fragrant
and water lilies
a buoy for the ecstasy
of flight

Perhaps the purveyor of dreams
is illusive, a hidden vestige
of night’s firmament
for to purvey dreams
one must hold onto them
one must dream

June 26, 2017

The Star Second To The Right

In a time primordial when first life began
unimaginative of the harsh realities of wars
when sunrises and sunsets were ethereal
she can only imagine stepping into dreams
of discovering an unblemished world of those
dreams made of translucent skies so that
much like Peter all she has to do is to go
to the star second to the right and straight
on till morning or perhaps like Alice she
should eat but a small bit of cake to become
just the right size to enter the garden
there upon discovering a different world
for in seeing forever is the powerful force
where oceans teeming with life are no longer
a graveyard of war ships but only coral reefs
a delightful dance of colors and creatures
and where gardens floral are wondrous delights
for children playing for hate is not a word
so cannot invade her dreams that will always
be pristine as newly fallen snow in Winter
with skies so clear she can revel to see them all
from anywhere to blissfully fly to the star second
to the right and straight on till morning

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday prompt. You can read more of other poet’s responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/06/21/the-hawk-has-flown-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitized by myself.

November 16, 2014November 17, 2014

*AMBROSIA DREAMS***

unremarkable as it may seem
here I am
& there you are
in your ambrosia dreams

the paisley print travels
without regrets
with me throughout time
becoming everything
that I am
in your ambrosia dreams

so we shall meet over tea
on a dew filled morn
the breath carrying
away our words
traveling on the dawn

we will find ourselves
sitting upon
a park bench
mourning the solitude
of our worlds hence

unremarkable as it may seem
here I am
& there you are
in your ambrosia dreams

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitally Altered by Myself

November 16, 2013November 16, 2013

The Weaver of Moments

you were the weaver of moments
the mender of dreams
as you walked your journey
a man without means

you were the Bishop of Salishan

you walked among the poor
sat with the outcast
you talked with gang members
the teacher who was alas

always the Bishop of Salishan

you chose a pain filled reality
a place of spiritual grace
in the midst of hunger & murder
you transcended that space

you were the Bishop of Salishan

you left in the season of changes
leaves burnished red, gold & orange
loved ones waited patiently
your work here now done

never forgotten, the Bishop of Salishan

you are still the weaver of moments
still the mender of dreams
as you now are with the angels
a healer with means

always the Bishop of Salishan

Image Taken From Morgue File

The city where I live lost one of its’ most loved advocates for the disenfranchised. He was a Lutheran Pastor who founded a mission on our Eastside and made it his life’s call to spend every day he could among the people who came to call him friend.
Pastor Ron Vignec will never be forgotten and I was most fortunate to be one of many who called him my friend.
http://www.thenewstribune.com/2013/11/11/2885597/rev-ron-vignec-founder-of-salishaneastside.html