I can pretend innocence,
say the me he dreams
is all him, but
when he says somewhere imagined
he is mine completely,
and there, together
we will be gods
catching moonlight in buckets
poured into pools to swim in,
he has spoken a place
where I could spin
thread from clouds
that he can string stars on,
like beads
so I can wear suns
in a necklace.
Sure, I might not
have started this
and can pass polygraphs
testing for things
I’ve not (yet) committed,
but there’s no hiding
the truth in a simile
much less a smile.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Love it…I too could pass a polygraph on things I’ve not yet committed. 🙂
😉 HAD to.
I was very caught!
Hee, hee. As was I…Oh, the things we are tempted with!
“but there’s no hiding
the truth in a simile
much less a smile.”
Absolutely wonderful!
Steven, thank you! This was fun.
Gosh. This is not imaginary! Cannot be!
catching moon light in buckets!
suns in a necklace of light
and the confession in the last three verses
but there’s no hiding
the truth in a simile
much less a smile.
But I suspect more is till held back! Quick, get the lie detector – the poet is being economical with words. Lovely poem. where do you unearth these bouts of joyous creativity from?
Aw, Noel, thanks! This was me being playful–which I think for me must be intimately linked to the earth as it passes the vernal equinox. That’s what I am calling this poem–the result of delirium from spring fever, and that’s all I’m sayin’…
Spin threads from clouds
String stars on like beads
This is absolutely vivid, Susan. I could wear such a necklace of light too. In agreement with Noel, where do you unearth these bouts of vivid imagery from? Delightful!!!
Irene, I have no idea, but I love them when they hit!
oh reeeeeealy? how very lovely. I have to go and sigh now….xo
😉 thanks, SFAM. Glad you liked my play.
The imaginary is one hell of a refuge.I think of Dar Williams, and this from Mercy of the Fallen:
If your sister or your brother were stumbling on their last mile
In a self-inflicted exile
Wish for them a humble friend
And I hope someday that the best of Falstaff’s planners
Give me seven half-filled manors
Where half-dreams may dream
Without end
Oh, wow, those are great lines! I would settle for half of a refuge.
Powerful imagery here
Aw, thanks. That is what happens when the lure is a dream 😉
the 2nd & 3rd stanzas are awesome Susan. wonderful work
Stacy, thank you!