Nicole ~ poet/writer/publisher of Dream-Speak

Here are some bits of poetry I’ve pulled from my past Dream-Speak Journals.

The next issue of Dream-Speak, Dear Emily, will mark the ninth publication. You can now follow Dream-Speak on HP-Magcloud to be notified when the new journals are available. New digital issues are delivered to subscribers around the 10th of every month.

Dream-Speak, Issue Eight, Satori, was the first one available in print, so I am really excited about this new direction.

Other exciting news! Issue nine will offer some really amazing haiku from the haiku artist, Marilyn Appl Walker. (links to come soon)

For future issues I will not only be collecting my poetry but the works of others as well. I am looking forward to scouting for more talented artists and writers.

~

(from issue three / A Journey of Crows)

A Journey of Crows

He flies around
Between
Away from me -
Inside his wings the sound
Of black silken sheets
Slapping against the April breeze
Stop struggling
Stop leaning
Where is your grace? – he says
We are all in this together
The dark and the light
A flock of black birds
A flash of white light
Come in – he says
Come find me
I’ll be waiting in the dream…

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Night

Chuck – Will’s – Widow

Chuck – Will’s – Widow

Chuck – Will’s – Widow

And the Bullfrogs on the bank
A Whip-Poor-Will the color of an old barn cat
They sing me home
The songs of night
The sounds of poetry and dreams…

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(from issue four – The Great Forgetting)

Light Writing

Poetry is the same
As light writing –
A love affair
Between the morning sunlight
And Black Walnut leaves
The rule of threes
Sometimes I am the third element
Sometimes the third is absence
It is a drumbeat
A heartbeat
Stick your hand inside the words
You can feel it
You can see it
A shirt
Unbuttoned
One button hole too low
Poetry is the same
As writing with light
Stick your hand inside
Can you feel it?
There is something erotic
Sexy and willing
It wants to be touched

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(from issue five – The Poet and the Writer)

Garden Song

A barrow
With a wheel
A row
Of seeds
In a pumpkin bath
A Meadowlark
In a field
Of clouds
The yellow belly
Of grass
In a bucket
A hoe
Of green weeds
Shovels worn thin
From bending rocks
And striking down
And down
And digging up
Roll the barrow
Strike the wheel
Plant your gloves
Tender
On the garden sill

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Wild Places

How do we walk
Inside the meadow rocks?

What is hidden
In a tangle of ticks
Of grass
Of flying gnats?

To enter -
We need skin like a snake
An armadillo back
Claws that dig and scrape

Or we might just ask
“Let me in -”
And offer what we have

The meadow rock sings -
“Bring me seeds for more rocks.”

In a shadowy tent
Of Sunflower heads
Rudbeckia, Castor Bean
And Scarlet Phlox…

I open my cupped hands
To show all I have
But the rock does not receive

I drop my poetry at his feet
And begin instead
To shed my skin

I am granted entry from within

.

(from issue 6 – Object Lesson)

excerpt from the title piece

Object Lessons

I am a student of the objects on the shelves. Stoic handles once held in broken hands. And once I stop and listen, once I am present for the object lessons, I can finally turn and show you with a pen what I was told ~ but never beforehand. Never before they have a chance to tell their stories first.

Nicole~

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