a nightly soirée

night-fishing-at-antibes-1939

Night Fishing at Antibes, 1939 by Pablo Picasso

words enveloping a slight breeze,
igniting curious forms – electric flowers,
dilapidated furnishings –
in this white expanse of high-
rises, and low lying lives (living lies),

words holding aloft meaningless
outlines to my structure, night
breathing its sonorous sounds
of cackling, ravishing through me –

i see gyrating epiphanies
of dahlias and pigeons mating,
of rain falling on the clouds,
bursting spectacles on the ground,
the predators prancing in a loss
of the timidity, of their own flesh.

dreams dreaming themselves
in a dreamscape verse – white doves
fluttering like paper, striking sun,
deepening gashes, of scarlet-violet
thickening into crystal lies (one disguise),

dreams holding fictions apart
from an unlikely truth-like reverie,
and drinking evening dews made of
spider silk, cactuses, subservient me –

i feel the voices of the dead
in my brown breast, thumping
steps of journeys, bound by
ringlets of faith, on the bodies
singled out in their own ecstasy,
of a rigidity, of their own levity.

~

it is a nightly soirée of handsome faces –

dark mouths,
darker eyes,
light dreams,
lighter skies.

.

For With Real Toads’ Weekend Challenge; also linking it up with Poetry Pantry at PU

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20 thoughts on “a nightly soirée

  1. Kerry says:

    This is phenomenal! As an ekphrastic account of the Picasso or as a painting of the inner landscape of dreams, your language is rich and each image resounds.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This delight of a poem bring to mind “The Circular Ruins”, by Jorge Luis Borges. Especially in the fourth stanza, in that circle where dreams build the reality that dreams them real. And your ending, oh! what a painting, a moving painting… dark and bright singing and dancing about life.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. sanaarizvi says:

    My goodness this is truly a masterpiece! 😍 Especially love “I see gyrating epiphanies of dahlias and pigeons mating, of rain falling on the clouds, bursting spectacles on the ground.” 💜

    Like

  4. A stunning surreal dream poem, HA. I love the lines:
    ‘dreams dreaming themselves
    in a dreamscape verse – white doves
    fluttering like paper…’
    and
    ‘dreams holding fictions apart
    from an unlikely truth-like reverie’.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is some jazzy nightmusic, dancing on a precipice of bones! Why do poems inspire us so? Because they allow us to write like “dreams dreaming themselves / in a dreamscape verse.” Amen! Truly potent poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. magicalmysticalteacher says:

    While this soiree is certainly an entertaining spectacle, I’m not sure I’d have the stamina to witness it night after night! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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