I dreamt of cats

I have no bigger regret in life

then the day of I dreamt of a poem to write and then ignored it,

too stunned from mind’s fantasy thoughts.

As I lay in bed, kissed with the cool breaths of the evening’s lips,

I drifted into dreams and danced in my imagination,

Where I saw images of cats on walls, speaking to me in strange whispers

As they led me through a stroll in my mind, through a walk in the night.

 

We journeyed deep into the city;

Where old woman strutted the sidewalks, whispering secrets to themselves.

Pupils colored with insanity.

The cats led me to where groups of children played in the streets;

some whose hearts were filled with warmth,

but also to others who were filled with such terrible sadness

that It starved their souls, it broke their branches.

 

The cats led me to alley-ways flowered with dumpsters which blossomed art.

Their rims were filled; packed to the top in seas of swimming tints and hues,

Winds of various scent, duty of so many essences.

I dug through them and found a book of written pages by a man;

thoughts of a stranger

as he painted the pastures of those pages with every aspect of his body.

I discovered nibbled dinner that had sat in houses whose walls

were decorated with: dim, quiet, dusk.

I came across the ring of a lover disposed of in rage,

with flames of the passion’s late bearer still beating wildly from the metals.

 

The cats took me to an ocean shimmering with tired night mist,

Sprinkled with the laughter of the moon.

In it sailed some creatures lurking towards the shallow shore,

Curious of the light that rained from the sky,

Yet others fled to the depths of its bottom,

Hiding in the thunder of silence, wrapped in the blankets of the black.

 

Then suddenly- the cats all turned and each wandered out a different way,

Never looking back; and I stood there on the spot,

As the scenes playing that night evoked

every emotion I had never known; along with all of which had not been felt,

and like a cool black tide upon static waters,

the pounding of my heart showered me-

and I stood there for hours before I woke.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

In some cultures. The cat was a powerful spirit. The vision of a cat is amazing. They were use for protection in the days of old. I like this story. The cat took you on a very good field trip. Dreams are the doorways to what we need and desire. A wise person pay attention to their dreams. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[augustmoon80]

Beautifully written.

[.]

the cat evokes such mysticism - they have through the ages been worshipped and vilified..your dream has all the delights of a conscious mind exploring it's depths...great descriptions brought me right into your dream and I didn't want it to end..lovely

[Claude]

I love the cats as a metaphor. It makes me think of curiosity or of a quest. Beautifully descriptive.

[Wondering Mind]

very fertile imagination and interesting journey into your imagination....those cats have been different form-thoughts in my case.

[TAO]

What a dream.

Is this really your sleeping mind? If so, what a wonderful place it must be. You've very nearly floored us with your depictions. I felt as if I were really right there, walking through your mind, and seeing the things you saw. You really know very well how to hook your reader. Nicely done.