surreal

This was inspired by a dream. And as with all dreams, the details of which  have evaporated with the passing of time. It must have been intense though, that I'm quite certain, for I still can't shake it off from my subconscious. A niggling abstract thought.  And now I'm like recalling a scent only I can't tell where I smelled it, who wore it, or what exactly was it - old leather, bergamot, jasmine, tamarind?  It is so much like deja vu, you're certain when it happens and in a wink of an eye, you're not, never sure anymore. It's all very surreal. Like the impression invoked by the images and words - lines stolen from great poets and randomly strung together - below.

AT midnight hour I went, not willingly,
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
Cover mine eyes, O my Love! 

My heart leaps up when I behold
Angels of the love affair
When June comes dancing o'er the death of May

Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead!
as the poems go into the thousands you
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; 

The name of the author is the first to go
immense, august, like some Titanic bloom,
when winter was half over
Let the rain kiss you

Now close the windows and hush all the fields
The free bird leaps
And death shall have no dominion. 

Never try to trick me with a kiss
I do not love you except because I love you;
I am in need of music that would flow
Desolate and lone 

Once a dream did weave a shade
There will be rose and rhododendron
I walk down the garden-paths,
Go, sit upon the lofty hill

I SING the Body electric;
I dwelt alone
a total stranger one black day

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