Today’s poem for Paul Brookes’ challenge is inspired by this painting, They’re supposed to be my dreams by Marcel Herms.
Sandmen
This is what you get, says the Sandman,
teeth and hands red and running,
this is what you get because there’s nothing else.
I shake my head until it almost drops off,
limp as a frost-bitten rose bud,
and the ocean stretches deep and blue and glittering.
The bringer of nightmares turns
away, and the world goes black
as a Sandman’s cloak, but in the dark
the waves still gleam
with the dancing of dolphins
and the golden sheen of apples,
and I smile
because he doesn’t know
that there are dreams too.
Reblogged this on The Wombwell Rainbow.
Thank you, Paul 🙂
This was harsh, again not sth I’m used to reading from you. Great work, Jane.
The paintings are all like something out of Clockwork Orange.
Exactly. They make you think.
They do. It isn’t nice, but it’s somebody’s truth.
For sure. Keep up the good work.
🙂
I feel like this was Oracle-touched at the end. I’m happy he doesn’t know. 😀
So–without reading this–I posted a photo earlier this morning and titled it Dreamworld.
Thank you 🙂 I couldn’t let the Sandman with those red hands have the last word.
Now I’m intrigued. Off to read yours.
Sorry-no poem, just the photo. But maybe a poem at some point. 😏
I looked on FB when I saw there was nothing on your blog. It’s a lovely dreamy scene 🙂
😀
Always good to fend off the dark dreams and replace them with light. (K)
Just because someone claims they have all the answers doesn’t mean it’s true.