The landscape in the pillow

[heslopian]

We wander into Sleep,
the gates of this holiest church
rusted and overgrown.
The cult of Dreamers -
in our nightcaps, gowns, and slippers -
marches onwards, into Sleep.

The landscape in the pillow greets us:
the spires of Somnium Terra
punctuate its verdancy
like full stops in a love letter,
as in a mystical fetter
the avatar of Life withers.

But what of the need to guard this place?
- To save our cardboard Christendom
from these marauding Mosselmen,
their scriptures of the Real
aloft in ev'ry meeting place
throughout our holy lands.

A sermoniser crests the mount,
shorn of beard and robe,
a column of light its only form.
'Whichever metamorphosis appeals to you,
my resting babes' it says, 'do not be pressed
in dirt and age. The only sage is called Unreal.'

[LunaDeLore]

We wander into Sleep,
the gates of this holiest church
rusted and overgrown.   --------- would these gates ever be rusted and overgrown 
The cult of Dreamers -
in our nightcaps, gowns, and slippers - ----- for some reason this reminds me of the night before Christmas and couldn't "our" be omitted?
marches onwards, into Sleep.

The landscape in the pillow greets us: -----My thoughts: the landscape in the pillow greets and the spires of....
the spires of Somnium Terra
punctuate its verdancy
like full stops in a love letter,
as in a mystical fetter
the avatar of Life withers.

But what of the need to guard this place?  ------ Is this place the avatar of life? Is the avatar what must be saved ?
- To save our cardboard Christendom
from these marauding Mosselmen,
their scriptures of the Real
aloft in ev'ry meeting place
throughout our holy lands.

A sermoniser crests the mount,
shorn of beard and robe,
a column of light its only form.
'Whichever metamorphosis appeals to you,
my resting babes' it says, 'do not be pressed
in dirt and age. The only sage is called Unreal.' ------ I like this line....

Heslopian,

I never quit seen sleep or somnolence tackled in the landscape of a pillow before so that makes this poem interesting to me. Of course, like most things we write "revision" always calls our name. There's no way around it, really. and I'm looking forward to seeing where you go with this one.

Good work.
Luna

[Achebe]

We wander into Sleep,
the gates of this holiest church
rusted and overgrown.
The cult of Dreamers -
in our nightcaps, gowns, and slippers -
marches onwards, into Sleep.

The landscape in the pillow greets us:
the spires of Somnium Terra 
punctuate its verdancy .....I think the metaphor is getting lost a bit. First, sleep was a church, and now it's a country (somnium terra). I am also confused as to whether you are being entirely metaphorical here, or whether you are making a reference to an actual design on the fabric of your pillow as well. If it's entirely metaphorical, then 'landscape in the pillow' is a bit...weak.  
like full stops in a love letter,
as in a mystical fetter
the avatar of Life withers.  

But what of the need to guard this place?
- To save our cardboard Christendom
from these marauding Mosselmen, ....the marauding mussalmans haunt your sleep, passable
their scriptures of the Real
aloft in ev'ry meeting place
throughout our holy lands.

A sermoniser crests the mount,
shorn of beard and robe,
a column of light its only form.....''Its' or 'his'? You've sort of lost me by this point.
'Whichever metamorphosis appeals to you,
my resting babes' it says, 'do not be pressed
in dirt and age. The only sage is called Unreal.'

Hi Heslop - brief crits above. I think the last stanza is quite cryptic. 
Overall, you might want to make the metaphor tighter.

[SnarlingThroughOurSmiles]

We wander into Sleep,
the gates of this holiest church Why is sleep a church?
rusted and overgrown.
The cult of Dreamers -
in our nightcaps, gowns, and slippers -
marches onwards, into Sleep.

The landscape in the pillow greets us:
the spires of Somnium Terra Grammatically it's conventionally Terra Somnium but I guess this works too
punctuate its verdancy Not challenging you, just wondering why the land of sleep would be green?
like full stops in a love letter,
as in a mystical fetter What's being fettered?
the avatar of Life withers.

But what of the need to guard this place?
- To save our cardboard Christendom
from these marauding Mosselmen, In this context, who are the Mosselmen? Also, the reference makes sense in terms of the whole Crusaders theme but I'm sure there are ways to make references to the Crusades without seeming...vaguely racist.
their scriptures of the Real
aloft in ev'ry meeting place
throughout our holy lands.

A sermoniser crests the mount,
shorn of beard and robe,
a column of light its only form.
'Whichever metamorphosis appeals to you,
my resting babes' it says, 'do not be pressed
in dirt and age. The only sage is called Unreal.'

[Erthona]

Jack,

Nice poem, the cadence fits the topic. I do question your use of " verdancy". Of course it does have two meanings, but I am assuming here you mean "green", "verdant".

I think the first three lines could be better written, as is they are a bit confusing.

"We wander into Sleep,
the gates of this holiest church
rusted and overgrown"

We wander into Sleep,
this holiest church;
the gates of which are
rusted and overgrown (complete sentences always make me happy)

Imaged this way it gives the impression that sleep is difficult to obtain? Maybe, otherwise I haven't a clue as to what the image of "rusted gates" and "overgrown". I can think of nothing other than they bar us from the "church", i.e., sleep.

The rest rocks along quite nicely. I especially like these two lines of iambic tetrameter:

"To save our cardboard Christendom
from these marauding Mosselmen,"

Ah yes, bias even in our dreams, maybe especially so. n'est-ce pas mon amie?


dale