Mag 170
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| Ponytail by Last Exit |
She dreamed she drowned again
Twisting, writhing in the deep
No one to help her
Nothing to grab hold of
Water so thick it coated her limbs like latex paint
rendering them useless in the onslaught...
Tossing, turning in the loudness of the quiet
Approaching a hole in the abyss
Clasping the last edge before nowhere
As her ponytail was snatched from the fray
Dragging her body behind her
She woke on the downy pile
Her bed mate snoring peacefully beside her.
Laurel. Ambien maybe?
What a nightmare! I wonder what haunts her.
ReplyDeleteThanks for following me, Charleen. I will check out your blog;)
DeleteThe loudness of the quiet; very nice indeed.
ReplyDeletelove the mention of latex paint, very good!
ReplyDeleteGreat images floating around in this nightmare--Loved it!
ReplyDelete"...the loudness of the quiet..." Wow.
ReplyDeleteWonderful imagery, especially the reference to latex paint.
ReplyDeleteWhat a trip ... nightmares like this one we can do without. Nice writing!!!
ReplyDeleteOh, dreams of drowning... I like the detail about the water as thick as paint. Good write!
ReplyDeleteSo vivid, I love the way the flow and vividness of your words makes me thinking of thrashing. I have these types of dreams a lot
ReplyDeleteNice image/words! I could feel her panic...like how you worked in her hairstyle!!
ReplyDeleteHa
Hugs
SueAnn
Oh what a nightmare - glad she woke up!
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Sounds like one of my dreams...
ReplyDeletefelt like I was tossing and turning as I read your poem! Why is the bedmate always seems to be able to sleep well when one can't?
ReplyDelete