GUARDING THE PERIMETER (photomorph) & ON FLOTILLAS (dream narrative) by Roswila

ON FLOTILLAS

it's time to send out my usual big greeting card
mailing (again); I wish I had my own photos to
make them out of, but I'm in a rush, and all I
have right at hand is a huge supply of regular
sentimental greeting cards usually sold in stores;
although I blush to use them, truth be told, most
folk will probably more readily relate to these
familiar sentimental images; I dip into the large
brown paper bag I'd tossed the cards into ages
ago, to choose which one is best for whom; I fish
first for an appropriate one for my brother (he's
a tough one, not much ever pleases him unless
it's exactly what he'd wanted, which in his book
equals "expected," and though he rarely admits
his disappointment I do feel it), I decide on a
large square card for him, with lots of white
space onto which he can project whatever he
wishes; I next fumble around in the bag for a
card for my woman friend of nearly 60 years,
one might think this choice would be easier as
she tends to notice very little I do or say that
isn't immensely obvious; yet I cling to the hope
that permeates just about anything I do for
others, and especially for her: that this time
something I've done will actually get across, a
connection will be made, and she'll react openly;
I suddenly wonder if I should be writing out
each card as I go along and pick up the card and
envelope I chose for my brother; the sun-bright
white of the large flapping envelope puts me in
mind of white ducks, floating at ocean's edge;
my mind's eye then pans way out to see a huge
white Victorian-style hotel overlooking the sea,
and goes even further -- back in time -- to when
domesticated ducks dominated the lazy surf in
front of the then spanking new hotel, hoards of
them lined up on the water, floating along behind
three wild, black ducks, headed toward a ragged
slew of some sort of red birds bobbling on the water
(are they even birds?); there's something predatory
about this huge slow advance of ducks in neat rows
toward the red birds; maybe that sense comes from
the hunger I can almost feel in the air, though I can
not imagine those red floaters as food and especially
not for ducks; true, there are many kinds of hunger,
each of which can wear many different disguises;
maybe the ducks' hunger is to free their flotillas'
familiar, usually spacious and welcoming harbor,
from these exceedingly strange red invaders


[narrative on a dream of 7-7-18. Link to info on the colors white, black, and red: "Why black, white and red are such vital colors has been debated. Arguments are as varied as the theory that they are [respectively] the colors of shadow, light and life. ... What is known is that [black, white, and red] are universal in being both the first colors humans see as important, and in having similar meanings." Also of interest in this article with respect to the dream above, is the assertion that of the three colors, red varies the most in meaning across cultures and times. Photomorph "Guarding the Perimeter" (11-17-17 013v5e) by Roswila]

PLEASE NOTE: in most browsers you can click on the above image for a larger version. Also, the photo accompanying a post is not necessarily meant to illustrate it, but to reflect some small, even slant aspect of the verse, similar to Japanese haiga (illustrated haiku).

There are many other sorts of posts on this blog. I indicate which are about or influenced by dreams. Some non dream focused posts are book reviews, "regular" poems (some by other writers), scifaiku, writing exercises, Tarot haiku, photos, haiga, and so on. However, most of those are in much older posts. There's a listing by month going back to early 2006, at the end of the sidebar.

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until next time, keep dreaming,

[a/k/a Patricia Kelly]
**** If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”). Roswila's other blog (dedicated to her photos only, i.e. no poetry or other writing; daily post); TRYING TO HOLD A BOX OF LIGHT.