Showing posts with label Dream Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dream Poems. Show all posts

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Prompt #196 – Perchance to Dream


Asleep or awake, I suspect that most poets are dreamers, and our dreams are a rich source of inspiration and creativity.

Much has been written about dreams and their interpretation, and dreams have offered an infinite wellspring of ideas for writers of every stripe throughout written history. This week, let’s write  a poem inspired by an actual dream (happy dream, emphatic dream, nightmare, surreal dream, waking dream, precognitive dream)—any dream that you’ve had.

Guidelines:

1. Dig deeply into your dream recall (your ability to remember dreams) and write down as much of a particular dream as you can remember (perhaps even a recurrent one).

2. Reflect upon the imagery and symbolism of the dream you’ve chosen. Think about the details. To explore some dream symbols, click here.

3. What did the dream mean or suggest to you?

4. Then re-dream your dream in a poem.

5. Alternatively, recall times when you’ve watched a beloved pet sleep, and imagine what that pet’s dreams might have been. Write a poem about a pet’s dream.

Tips:

1. Focus on imagery and on creating a sense of your dream’s mood. Mood and tone will be important in this poem.

2. If the dream didn’t make sense to you, don’t attempt to force it to make sense in your poem.

3. If the imagery of the dream was surreal, then use surreal imagery in your poem.

4. You may want to write in the past tense, but think about switching to the present tense to create a sense of immediacy, as if the dream is happening now.

5. Be aware of “ing” endings and overuse of prepositional phrases.

6. If you write about a recurrent dream, be sure to include some elements of repetition, including anaphora (the deliberate repetition of the first part of a sentence). Repetition can be used for emphasis, as well as to create tension, and to enhance the sound quality in a poem.

7. Let your poem use space on the page in the same way that it uses space in your mind. If the dream components are scattered, scatter their word counterparts across the page with interesting line breaks, indents, and stanzaic arrangements.

Examples:



By way of sharing, here's a dream poem based on a neighbor's suicide
(from my forthcoming book, A Lightness, A Thirst, or Nothing At All).



So Much Life 

The girl who killed herself, her dog, and son speaks to me. She tells me that this death is only sleep. I’m not sure what she means by this—what other death? I stand above her grave, not knowing if there even is a grave (a place to put her—perhaps just ash, the newspapers didn’t say); but, no, I see her face. Her lips move before the words: So much life, she says, is dead before the body follows. She looks at me through stippled eyes and, reaching up, she trims the moon with pinking shears. Light, unraveled, falls (a perfect circle) around the dog beside her—the dog’s spirit scratches its jaw. I don’t know how she came to be inside my dream or why she haunts me—I barely knew her. From my front porch, I see the house in which she lived—the storm door open. Snow that is ice, that is glass, covers the lawn; the lawn splinters and cracks.

(Acknowledgment: Exit 13 Magazine, Vol. #20, 2014)

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Photo: Grateful acknowledgment to Renée Ashley for permission to use 

"Steve and Mona."

www.reneeashley.com


Sunday, February 26, 2012

Prompt #92 – Dreams


Was it only by dreaming or writing that I could find out what I thought?

– Joan Didion

What’s the dream experience like for you? Have you ever had a particularly vivid dream that you haven’t forgotten? A recurring dream? A precognitive dream (a dream that comes true as a future event)? A dream that defies understanding?

While dreams are typically defined as thoughts, images, or emotions that occur during sleep, Thoreau called dreams the “touchstones of our characters.” William Butler Yeats said, “In dreams begins responsibility.” And according to Shakespeare, “We are such stuff / As dreams are made on.” C. K. Chesterton wrote, “The center of every man's existence is a dream.” When I read these comments, I made an immediate connection to poetry: touchstones of our character, the stuff of dreams, responsibility, the center of our existence, thought, image, and emotion; and I began to think about the ways in which dreams intersect with waking life, what dreams mean, and why some dreams are so compelling (and sometimes convincingly real).

I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest that poetry is the language of dreams or vice versa, but a shared “lexicon” of image and emotion is definitely possible. Without getting into the psychology of dreams or dream interpretation (fascinating areas of study), let’s write poems about dreams this week.

Try writing a poem about a specific dream. You might “tell” about a dream, re-create a dream, write about a dream’s impact, or you might write your poem in the prose poem format of a dream journal or diary. If you honestly can’t remember a dream, make one up or write a poem about dreams in general. You might write about an animal’s dream, an inanimate object’s dream, or you might take on the persona of a dream and write as if you are a dream speaking. Another possibility is to write about a nightmare you’ve had, to create a nightmare poem, or to write about a favorite daydream. Still another possibility is to write a poem based on this quotation: "If there were dreams to sell, what would you buy?" (Thomas Lovell Beddoes)

Example Dream Poems:


And ... from my newest collection of poems, the dream I had while I was on chemo:

ANOTHER NGIHT ON THE WING OF THAT DREAM

It’s the same damned dream – a hole and she
knows she’s in it. She feels herself flail, small

(like shiver, the bed sprung with the weight of
her life.) She can’t lift off. She flaps, arms

pitched like wings (that would be bird – wren,
sparrow – but she isn’t). She races and revs, gains

a fraction, then bumps down (the way one fall
bumps into another). She thinks: a spade for the

feathers, a bucket for the blood (whatever is left –
her own slow ghost). But stop! The fortuneteller

trips – illusion, trick – there’s one bird left on
the water, one wing through, and it’s rising.

                        (From What Matters, Welcome Rain Publishers, New York, NY, 2011)


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