Someplace imaginary

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.

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About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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18 Responses to Someplace imaginary

  1. Love it…I too could pass a polygraph on things I’ve not yet committed. 🙂

  2. I was very caught!

  3. “but there’s no hiding
    the truth in a simile
    much less a smile.”

    Absolutely wonderful!

  4. 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’…

  5. Irene says:

    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!!!

  6. Rhonda says:

    oh reeeeeealy? how very lovely. I have to go and sigh now….xo

  7. nelle says:

    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

  8. Powerful imagery here

  9. the 2nd & 3rd stanzas are awesome Susan. wonderful work

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