Poetry Pages

This poem came in second place in my writers group;http://www.cowboylogic.net/forum/index.php

 The last part was added after it was posted on the writer’s site.

I Dream I Am

©By Gerardine Baugh

 

I  Dream, I am the buteo

 I drift over fast running streams, soaring

 Silently, I move, gliding, from above

 Not a wisp of air will stir in my wake

 This moment, hovers, exhilaration escalates, I screech

 Fold my wings, and fall, spiraling, in-control

 A plummet that ends a millimeter from death, to give me life

 

  I Dream, I am the alpinism

 Stretching outward, I grasp at the smooth stone wall

 I let go of what was before, holding, my future with only finger tips

 Floating in mid air, blood rushes through my veins, dangling, off a mountain

 Nothing between me and the sharp rocks below

 My legs swing free, heart pounding, screaming pain

 I hang on, sodden, and enjoy the view

 

 I Dream, I am the salmon

 The water moves in my soul, it is my air, my life

 I feel the call, to move beyond, as I flop wildly, grasping for a breath

 Climbing over others I struggle to move forward, and up

 I can’t stop myself, the need is great

 For hours, I flounder, thrash and beat the water to foam

 For days, I resist, gasping for air, for release, then, do it again

 

  I Dream, I am the river

 Pounding tons of pressure

 Released upstream as a trickle, slipping around pebbles

 Progressing into falls of magnificence proportions

 Roaring pain, mists that drench and drown

 Smashing against boulders, massive trees torn out in its wake

 It can not stop its rushing flow towards a nonexistent end, to meander

 

  I Dream, I am the glacial

 The stillness settles in a quiet so loud, it hurts

 Century by century, a frozen mix of pastels on white, inch by inch

 Its ebbs on, caught in crystalline beauty

 Ice tongues, crawl, to taste life

 Within the impossible, pressures of existence

 Caught inside a snow globe of sea ice, witness creation

 

 I Dream, I am the writer

 The flavor of a word… sapid, intonation, premise, or theme

 From a world of symbols, a comma, colon, ampersand, into one of gist

 The idea cannot be put away, the character cannot be quieted

 Pounding keys of insolence paper, ink, pencil and blood all the same

 Everything changes when we color outside the lines

 Thoughts into words, words onto paper, Dream, thaw out self doubt, and write

 

I  Dream, I am the President

Follow me to the White house, within these United States

 I field hard questions, painful answers, resourceful volition, I show fearlessness

 Information gathers, sustained, contention scrutinized beyond the purpose

I smile, nod, listen… then frown with categorical reassurance

I will point the way with an open hand granting options, not ultimatums

The future is the peoples within a state of choice, and mine to lead

I Dream I am…

 For not to is impossible