In maple shade the cooling breeze
that tentatively strokes the brow
makes music in the rustling trees
for dancing leaves to nod and bow.
The sunlight pierces now and then,
but leaves are crowded without number;
and resting there, such lazy men
as you and I may sink in slumber.
As eyelids close the mind drifts free
of work and worry, world and friends,
on lifting winds of fantasy
beyond the field where reason ends.
The whispers of the leaves above
are subjects for our midday dreaming;
and hints of thoughts of loss or love
flow down to murmurs softly streaming.
The logic of our dreams is thus,
events connect by leap and flight;
retelling makes no sense to us,
unless we look with second sight.
We see ourselves in every role,
in sun or clouds of stormy weather,
we're boats that founder on the shoal,
and fliers falling without feathers.
Awaking to the sun's descent
brings wonder and a little thought,
to ponder what our dreams have meant,
to guess and then dismiss the lot.
Are dreams the joke that time may play
when conscious minds forsake their sentry,
or symbols which by sport portray
a witty transcendental entry?
Margaret I. Gibson Bates, 2009
Author notes
Written by the contest holder, this poem is not eligible for any awards or votes.
A contest entry
- On Viewless Wings # 178 for Lyndon's contests of late. by Lyndon.
2750 points, ended May 12, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - HUGUENAUTIES CONTEST No. #50 Dreams by huguenauties.
750 points, ended November 24, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Thank you for reading.
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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I adore maple trees and have several on my property. One in particular is my favorite and that of my girls as well. It shades the part of the yard which was their primary play area when they were little and many times I found both of them and also some of their friends up in its branches.
A lovely write Margaret and congratulations on your silver trophy.
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Congratulations on your well-deserved silver trophy! I enjoyed your poem, especially the last verse.
♥ Maureen
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I don't recall night dreams but I do indulge in plenty of day dreams. I'm always being told 'I'm miles away' In day dreams you have control and can be anything and anybody you want to be. Our minds are marvelous places to escape to when we are feeling low or bored.
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Dear Margaret,
I remember reading this ode when you entered it in Lyndon's contest and, on this belated second reading after recovering from my long-drawn struggle against sickness, I am no less impressed with what, to me, is a timeless ode.
You encapsulate the essence of daydreaming with the sure insight of one who is familiar to the wanderings of the subconscious mind and your flowing tetrameter lines are a perfect format and setting for the far-from-idle message which leads to your closing, unanswered question.
Applause, love and hugs and apologies for the lateness of this comment.
XXX Hugh (R.)
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Ah, Margaret, you take the reader
with you as you are canopied by
the maple leaves.
I have but a slender birch group
and a deep burgundy crabapple tree,
but thanks to neighbors on either side
my lawn is carpeted by huge golden
maple leaves too beautiful
to be sucked up soon and piled!
A most wondrous piece!!
M-C -
This is a timeless ode to our thoughts a daydreams when we let our minds roam free. A beautiful poem, Margaret and worthy of my bookmarks. I know I'll like reading this over and over again
An exquisite piece
Dee
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Thanks Dee,
I had a nice reverie in writing this one. I'm happy you enjoyed it too.
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A wonderful entry for this contest that I somehow missed. Beautifully rhymed, in the style of Keats and his era. I am sorry to just now be reading and appreciating your craft. Congratulations on the silver, this poem is something to be proud of.
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of dreams and shade of trees
lovely rhyming of leaves and dreams under the shade of trees / a muse of life//
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Hi congratulations on the silver ,a wonderful poem, Di
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Congratulations on the Silver!
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Thank you!
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Very readable and fluent.
This is a classic ode unlike Keats's but still beautiful. And the iambic tetrameters give a crispness to it. The mind certainly does drift free on viewless wings. John Keats would agree with that although he may have had his eyes open to scribble his immortal lines.
Readers would easily identify with this poetic adventure.
I cannot answer the final query but I know it raises questions including that chestnut of art for art's sake!
Thank you, clear-thinking poet.
Lyndon of the Winklings.
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Great take on the prompt of veiwless wings. This made me think of my childhood and times of lying in the long grass watching the clouds.
Enjoyed our write.
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You make this poem flow so beautifully and with a wonderful poetic tone and rhyme. It is a pleasure to read, it has a musing story line that captures the attention as well.
Loved it! Great take on the prompt.
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A beautiful, classical write ...
yet timeless in its introspective and calculative wit. Well done, as usual, Poetess!
Love
Myra
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Aha! The falling, the remembering,
or the not remembering, ourselves
ever-present---in common experiences---
you span the dream world perfectly!
But then, you bring a smile
as you play out the scene,
sentry forsaken, you slyly suggest
it may all be a joke,
"a witty transcendental entry?"
Hurrah!!!!!
Missed your wit, Margaret.
Glad you are back!
M-C
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Restful
It eased my stress and sent me out
to drift and sense and drift.
Without a worry, freed of doubt,
I really value this, your gift!
Thank you!
Terry
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What a beautiful relaxing piece this is.The way time should be spent,drifting and dreaming.Who cares it they make no sense to be free from reality for even a short while is medicine to the aching brain
Excellent good luck in the contest
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