|
|
|
print friendly version
|
|
The heat of summer gone, coldness comes, a welcome friend. |
|
|
By matt665
|
|
20 August 2007 |
|
The heat of summer gone, coldness comes, a welcome friend.
As I stand on these bare floorboards a cold breeze from an open window
caresses my skin setting my senses alive, adding definition, texture, a
reality that is missed in the haze of summer. Existence has never felt
so real so defined. I wait a moment taken back by the simple wonder of
the cold wood and the gentle yet insistent breeze.
I walk back to my room in a half daze of this sensory explosion craving
the warmth of my bed, a respite from this deluge of feeling. As I pull
back my sheets and enter the coldness gradually regresses and is
replaced by the pleasant numbing warmth. The coldness waits just on the
other side, a demanding lover, but for now the pleasant warmth fills my
body and I gradually... fall ... to ... sleep...............
A dream forms and takes shape in my mind becoming my reality my world.
She’s there waiting for me. In the instant I recognise her, my memories
of her come flooding to me and I realise that this wasn’t the first
time and it won’t be the last.
What does she want? Me… after all it’s my fantasy or is it? Is this my
fantasy or hers? All that matters is the moment, me and her. I realise
that every time it’s the same as we draw close to each other our eyes
roaming devouring the sight. Her touch is electric setting my nerves on
fire in anticipation of what happens next...... what happens next? With
a sickening feeling I realise that the waking world is fast approaching
the dream blurs twists as I fight against consciousness. In the
struggle of preserving the dream the fantasy is lost and I wake.
Beep... Beep... Beep… The alarm clock signals the start of yet another
day. Routine calls to me......... routine a prison of the mundane
boring things. I wish I was free from it and yet without it the cash
would stop flowing and the life blood of possibilities would dry up
leaving me just as trapped as before.
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... The last vestiges of sweet unconsciousness are
rudely interrupted as consciousness and reality takes hold of me for
another day.
Copyright © 2006-07 Matthew Stretton.
All Rights Reserved. |
Written by fellpony (1704 comments posted) 20th August 2007 | | DID you mean to post in Poetry? | I, too,
Written by audrie (454 comments posted) 22nd August 2007 | feel that this should be in a prose section. Short short fiction, maybe?
It is infuriating when you cannot hold onto a lovely dream, I do know that! | hi
Written by matt665 (1 comments posted) 22nd August 2007 | I think it fits in the poetry section as well as it would in any other section.
Any opinions on the actual work?
Matt |
Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3562 comments posted) 22nd August 2007 | Ok the content,then
I thought the last part seemed to contradict the first part. In the first part you are alive to what is happening in the world and after the dream you call it a prison. Did the dream make the change?
Also you say the cold breeze is a welcome change and then suddenly you are craving warmth of the bed. The narrative is a bit confusing.
I quite like the you have captured that strange feeling between waking and sleeping but it was difficult to make out what you wanted to say
cheers
Jane | Definitely not poetry
Written by Josie (2844 comments posted) 25th August 2007 | | Sorry Matt. This isn't poetry but prose. This doesn't detract from your writing at all, but put it into another category. In fact, I rather think this is a story. |
Only registered users can rate and write comments.
Please login or register. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
Previous item
