In The Night of My Revelation

[DonMar]

Experimenting with 'writing from the heart'' - a kind of stream of consciousness.

Go for it, folks.

Donna

UPDATE: Adjustments (a couple indicated in blue) have been made, based on feedback.

In The Night Of My Revelation

I dreamed I held a crystal ball,
and all the gypsies in the world
flowed like a river to my door.

There were more than I could number
of prophets and oracles, vendors
of miracles, makers of a mythology
twisted to seem truth that bled like wine
into the mouths of captive generations,
choked them with bread, expanding
to fill the space that needs
no nourishment but
the manna of heart and mind.

I awoke troubled; but the moon,
reaching through the shutter,
pinned my shoulder to the bed,
and I fell back into a fevered slumber.

In the dream again, I saw angels,
disenfranchised, tumble like tears
down the face of the moon,
silent as death, and bleak
as a baby's last breath.

My pillow was wet when I awoke.
Slivers of radiance pierced the floor,
and I stumbled outdoors,
where the sun hung like a ripe lemon,
and rose petals littered the moist grass.

I scooped up a handful, flung them into the air,
then joyful, watched them flutter
inside the ball of glass.

© Donna Devine

[kingmicahde]

I really like this poem! Your word choice is really good. This is my favorite
In the dream, I saw angels,
disenfranchised, tumble like tears
down the face of the moon,
silent as death, and bleak
as a baby's last breath.

[tomoffing]

This is powerful. Beautifully constructed contiguous images and ideas.

"twisted into truth that bled like wine
into the mouths of captive generations,"
Brilliant.

couple of pedantic thoughts below, but can easily stand as it is I think.

Experimenting with 'writing from the heart'' - a kind of stream of consciousness.

Go for it, folks.

Donna

In The Night Of My Revelation

In the night of my revelation, you can lose this, the title is sufficient
I dreamed I held a crystal ball,
and all the gypsies in the world
flowed like a river to my door,
and more than I could number
of prophets and oracles, vendors
of miracles, makers of a mythology
twisted into truth that bled like wine
into the mouths of captive generations,
choked them with bread, expanding
to fill the space that needs
no nourishment but
the manna of heart and mind.

I awoke troubled; but the moon,
reaching through the shutter,
pinned my shoulder to the bed,
And I fell again into a fevered slumber. no capital

In the dream, I saw angels, have we returned to the same dream or transitioned to somewhere new? This is the only point where a touch of clarity might help
disenfranchised, tumble like tears
down the face of the moon,
silent as death, and bleak
as a baby's last breath.

My pillow was wet when I awoke,
but slivers of radiance pierced the floor,
And I stumbled outdoors, no capital
where the sun hung ripe as a lemon,
and rose petals littered the moist grass.

I scooped up a handful, flung them into the air,
Then joyful, watched them flutter no capital
Inside the ball of glass. no capital

© Donna Devine

[billy]

hi donna,

there's a part that goes on and on and on, and i know it's a train of consciousness but it begging for a period or two so the reader can catch his breath. apart form that just a few nits in the body of the poem. i never actually made a connection to any revelation but did enjoy the poem.
thanks for the read.

Experimenting with 'writing from the heart'' - a kind of stream of consciousness.

Go for it, folks.

Donna

In The Night Of My Revelation

In the night of my revelation, sometimes it's better to let the title act as the first line instead of having a repeat line but that's always the choice the poet has to make.
I dreamed I held a crystal ball, a suggestion would be to remove [i dreamed] as it's made clear later on that it's a dream.
and all the gypsies in the world
flowed like a river to my door, a suggestion would be to use something else instead of river to help ease the cliche.
and more than I could number
of prophets and oracles, vendors
of miracles, makers of a mythology
twisted into truth that bled like wine
into the mouths of captive generations,
choked them with bread, expanding
to fill the space that needs
no nourishment but
the manna of heart and mind.

I awoke troubled; but the moon,
reaching through the shutter,
pinned my shoulder to the bed,
and I fell again into a fevered slumber. i like this connecting stanza, and the anthropomorphising of the moon into an entity

Dreaming anew, I saw angels, why the blue?
disenfranchised, tumble like tears
down the face of the moon,
silent as death, and bleak
as a baby's last breath. this line pulled me up short in a good way. it was unexpected and carries a lot of emotion

My pillow was wet when I awoke,
but slivers of radiance pierced the floor, no need for [but]
and I stumbled outdoors,
where the sun hung ripe as a lemon, how ripe is that? a suggestion would be hung as a ripe lemon. nice phrase, puts me i mind of a van Gough painting
and rose petals littered the moist grass.

I scooped up a handful, flung them into the air,
then joyful, watched them flutter
inside the ball of glass.

© Donna Devine

[DonMar]

Kingmicahde, tomoffing, and billy, thank you for your kind comments and helpful feedback. I've made a few adjustments to the poem.

Donna

hi donna,

there's a part that goes on and on and on, and i know it's a train of consciousness but it begging for a period or two so the reader can catch his breath. apart form that just a few nits in the body of the poem. i never actually made a connection to any revelation but did enjoy the poem.
thanks for the read. I agree, S1 was a bit of a mouthful. I've divided the stanza into two.

Experimenting with 'writing from the heart'' - a kind of stream of consciousness.

Go for it, folks.

Donna

In The Night Of My Revelation

In the night of my revelation, sometimes it's better to let the title act as the first line instead of having a repeat line but that's always the choice the poet has to make. I agree with you and Tom, and have removed that first line.
I dreamed I held a crystal ball, a suggestion would be to remove [i dreamed] as it's made clear later on that it's a dream.
and all the gypsies in the world
flowed like a river to my door, a suggestion would be to use something else instead of river to help ease the cliche. I'll ponder this.
and more than I could number
of prophets and oracles, vendors
of miracles, makers of a mythology
twisted into truth that bled like wine
into the mouths of captive generations,
choked them with bread, expanding
to fill the space that needs
no nourishment but
the manna of heart and mind.

I awoke troubled; but the moon,
reaching through the shutter,
pinned my shoulder to the bed,
and I fell again into a fevered slumber. i like this connecting stanza, and the anthropomorphising of the moon into an entity

Dreaming anew, I saw angels, why the blue? To indicate where an adjustment was made.
disenfranchised, tumble like tears
down the face of the moon,
silent as death, and bleak
as a baby's last breath. this line pulled me up short in a good way. it was unexpected and carries a lot of emotion

My pillow was wet when I awoke,
but slivers of radiance pierced the floor, no need for [but] I've dropped 'but', and placed a full stop after line 1. However, I may rethink the 'but', as it was used to connect/contrast lines 1 & 2.
and I stumbled outdoors,
where the sun hung ripe as a lemon, how ripe is that? a suggestion would be hung as a ripe lemon. nice phrase, puts me i mind of a van Gough painting I've returned to what I had in the original draft.
and rose petals littered the moist grass.

I scooped up a handful, flung them into the air,
then joyful, watched them flutter
inside the ball of glass.

© Donna Devine