PASSAGE TO OBLIVION

By dark I sleep; I think I dream —
I touch sun dazzled swaying waves
bright circles whip so near the stream
where candycanes arise like staves.

A woman's spangled eyes send sparks
to oranges selling by the beach.
I think I met her long ago — in a song —
I search for jasmine tea — it's out of reach.

The sand grows brushes tall and green
to paint clouds white and sky deep blue
Same colored jar stands on a skein
Of seaweed dark like rendezvouz.

Concentric rings of dreams therein
balloon, then overflow and spill
soft rainbowed newly made tureens
Of flowers singing floral trills.

The flowers speak; yet, make no sense.
Those sisters screech them out of tune
I pat their little stems and wince,
the petals shatter far too soon.

I find I'm in a wingback chair
In the library of my old home town
My favorite books are lying there
I reach for one; they all fall down.

And as they do the letters lift
Into the air;  I try to catch
but all in vain -- they swirl and sift
then blow through windows out of reach

I feel so lost, I want some help
A flower bobbles back to me,
then takes its face off of the shelf;
its hands are crossed, the chime rings three.

A change, a sound, a noise I heard
this room will neither stand or sit;
at once a small prismatic bird
takes wing -- then I fly after it!

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 8/8/2013
Posted for d'VersePoets FormForAll
as an example of changing the below poem
to a mostly iambic tetrameter poem with some
anapests for variety and meaning.

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Bemused "until the sea shall free them" *

I fall asleep in the dark and begin to dream
I walk where waves sway; the sun dazzles,
lights on water – a sea or lake around an island
barber poles seem to rise by a palace on a quay

Moonbeams flow from the braids of a
spangle-eyed woman­­­­­­­­­ selling oranges
I met her long ago – in a song.
I ask if she offers China teas
                        but she doesn't answer me

Down the beach I pass large green brushes
painting the sky the same puffy white and blue
as the sea. I find a large blue jar on the sand
water falls in, drip-drop from nowhere as I watch

Circles form the jar's surface
until it spills rainbows
transforming a garden of flowers
big white ones all talking at once

I don’t know what they're saying
maybe sisters singing (out of tune)
I pat their stems and
                they float away

I’m not sure if I have closed my eyes
or opened them as I am in a library
the one in my home town where
I went weekdays after school

In the room marked no children allowed
I sit (as of course I am not a child any more)
in the large wingback leather chair
next to all my favorite books.

I choose that one whose name I forget –
to read it again but the pages fall out
one after another the pages land on me
sift across the tables onto the floor

I reach for them and all the letters
lift into the air.  I try to catch them
and put them back in order to read
but they blow out the window far away

I feel sad, I need help when one
of the large white flowers sails in
then settles next to my face and cries.
I want to touch it but it turns to stone

I think I might be awake
everything in here is white
except a little bird - multicolored -
when it dashes out the window
                                         I fly after it

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 7.29.13

*Suzanne - Leonard Cohen
In response for K's prompt on Poetry - Water, Water Everywhere  - which I missed.