The Dream

WritingsHow does a library dream?

When its volumes are reviewed,
words leap into waiting souls.

The library is filled with knowledge.
A novel stands next to a book of songs.
Book bindings are colorful and strong.

AFter the lights go out, a cool breeze fills the room.
A dictionary waits on the table.
As the night goes on, its pages flutter.
Without eyes, the books watch until morning.

Everyone observes the books’ printed wisdom.
Walls of brick and sturdy shelves stand unnoticed.
They provide sanctuary to myriad pages.
Resting quietly, the building sighs again.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @wsmith1989

© 2017 W. Wayne B.

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Experiencing the impossible

I wondered what English looks like to people who see English for the first time. Suppose they know how to read Hebrew, Arabic or Hindi, but they have never seen English. What do they experience?

Now I don’t have to wonder anymore. I found a setting on my printer that shows me. I know the texture of the languages I mentioned above. I can recognize them, even if I can’t read or pronounce them.

This is an experience that I never thought was possible.

Here’s my example:
hsilgne

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That Storm

A Gargoyle looking over a pink city
That storm is approaching rapidly.
The vision of its fury is formidable.

I see people running away.
Clouds descend and I see them no more.

I wonder what my fate will be.
Should I hide from the danger in fear?
Would it be better to stand and risk all?

I ask my friends for guidance.
They have faced these storms before.
Some are battle scarred but they are safe today.

I hear danger coming near.
What will I decide?
My pride may be shattered by that hidden power.
I wait bravely and full of hope.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2016 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Eminent Doom. By Erman Akdogan [Image license]

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Clearing Vision

Two boys standing next to each other
I walked along a busy street alone.
No one I met felt my needs.
My heart was trapped by a remote memory.

I longed for a return to my home.
I could not imagine how to escape.
I had no idea how to release the bonds.

Then, with small steps, I found some peace.
Clouds left my eyes and hope returned.
With a clear vision, I found the path.
I had a purpose again and I felt new joy.

Now I am at home with dear friends.
We share our love and I am free again.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2016 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Handsome Indian boys. By Nithi Anand [Image license]

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A Garden

A red globe surrounded by light blue tendrils
Long ago, God walked through a garden.
Its residents were happy to care for nature.
They protected the health of it all.

For years this happy life continued.
Beauty ruled under the stars.
Flowers spread in endless colors.
Birds danced in aerial ballets.

A bolt of lightning struck one day.
The garden closed and troubles began.
The broken paths grew twisted.
The days were full of struggle.
Conflict and strife destroyed the garden.

As the weeds grew tall,
they choked out the seedlings.

Can I plant some flowers again?

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2016 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Greased Lightning. By Taro Taylor [Image license]

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This Evening

Woman smiling through window
Where will you go this evening?
Will I be able to find you?
I keep your safety close to my heart.
The incident I fear
could be seconds away.
I hope that we will reunite tomorrow.

As the days pass,
my anxiety is mellowing;
I have experienced
your safe passage
every day so far.

Now, when I am working alone
I feel your love in a new way.
Now, every time I sleep,
your smile fills my mind.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2016 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Untitled. By Elba Fernández [Image license]

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A Dreamer

Abstract red, blue and yellow lights
A sleeping man wants to rest.
Pain from a past breakup ends his brief sleep.
His agitated mind churns with images.
The night is not long enough for relief.

The world spins under a starry sky.
Clouds release their burden to cleanse the night.
Days come and go, just like the nightmares.
Dawn breaks and the sun returns.

Now, the dreamer understands things better.
The pain slowly cleared from his heart.
Now he is free from its driving torture.
A mystical healing power has made him new again.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2016 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Awaken. By Pulpolux !!! [Image license]

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