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.

hawk
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

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

My Walking Path