20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


11 Comments

Under the Brooklyn Bridge

The traffic and the lights are what drew me here.

And then I saw the buildings and gasped in surprise.

How do they make the buildings so high?

I walk the streets and up and down the steps I go.

Subways seem loud but in all reality it’s pretty tranquil down here.

Alone in a world of a billion people.

No where to turn in a world of a million streets.

How does one get lost with these numbered signs?

32nd. St.  33rd. St. and so on and so on.

A tiny cafe is bustling with the morning crowd.

This is not my place.

A dive bar at the corner near an alley with a few people sleeping on cardboard bed.

This is not my place.

Under a bridge, sand and water all around.

A pen and a notebook in my hand.

This is my place to find myself.

My place to be who it is I am to be.

Dreaming………..  always dreaming.

 

Image

Photo courtesy of http://wirednewyork.com/brooklyn_bridge_wtc.htm


5 Comments

Of real things

Eyes fluttered open for a second no more than
then slowly closed, for I did not want the real world
just yet
golden sun penetrated the glass like a velvet glove
reaching out for my face
 it drifted under my eye lids whispering
get up..get up
today is a new day
bed covers abandoned
to rise from my berth to which I was anchored
stumbling towards the sun rubbing brow
was I sleep walking
pushing the latch wide open
my eyes unaccustomed to the light
surely tricks were being played
 before me a majestic eagle
wings unfurled it turned,  blinked, beckoned me
I climbed upon his back gathering my arms softly
around his feathered neck his wings sweeping the ether
today is a new day
we soared high into the morning sky my eagle and I
effortless flight
glossy flaxen sun throwing light on
mountain peaks, craggy rocks
green valleys below
I nestled close, we travelled together
ascending above clouds
that seemed to dance in the wind
like musical notes upon a sheet

we rose into the heavens

we plunged and glided on currents of air
the world undisturbed unsheltered beneath us
my eyes closed I felt his heart beat with my hands
was I sleep walking
my eagle returned, he had shown me his world
with tired wings outstretched I alighted
my eyes spoke my thank you not with words
through the window I climbed
my body warmed by the sun
my cheeks aglow from the breeze
he flew away my eagle
I awoke hugging my feather pillow
was I sleep walking?


3 Comments

Dreaming

baby thinkingWhat are you doing with that little square thing?

I saw you put my face in there before.

Why does it flash so – what are you doing?

You’re beginning to make my eyes quite sore.

What is that wool thing and can I eat it?

No, don’t wrap me up. I can’t feel my toes.

With too many clothes I’m overheated.

I won’t need a coat like that till it snows.

I’m beginning to dream of when I’m big

and I will be able to speak my mind

and tell you the foods that make me feel sick

and all of the stuff I’ve got on my mind.

But all I can do right now is to dream

And when you get it right, give you a beam.

 

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,384 other followers

%d bloggers like this: