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Dawn Dream
Dawn Dream
A poem in broken tri-meter.
Copyright © June 15, 2013 by Douglas W. Jerving.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except
as provided by USA copyright law.
Day light at my windows.
I should now go to bed.
But I'll go walk my gardens;
I’ll dream of sleep instead.
Cold dawn yawns on my yard.
Sleep yet is not my ease,
Still the day turns suddenly
To warm my parodies
(Or parables) of love/hate.
Still all things in between
Speak out breath of life and death
And joy that is not seen
Unless it is the mermaid or
The starless nymph unknown;
Existence which we dare deny.
Still why we seek to own
Our special robe and crown
Before the dusk and death
Overtake all that we make
Our own ourobor-wreath.
Life with us goes or without
Us there to help it move;
Nor me to help it go.
But God turns from above.
Movement separate from ourselves
In heaven. Love and lust
Exacerbate our seeming fate
Of gracious gnosis or of rust.
And so we go from dawn
To dust.
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Doug Jerving is the publisher of the NewEdisonGazette.com. You may contact him at
djerving@newedisongazette.com.
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