Poetry Writing

Dreaming of Poetry

Do you ever dream of writing? I mean, quite literally, dreams of writing, not writing as a goal. The first one I had was in my early twenties and I was in such a hurry that I forgot to write it down. I was keeping a dream journal then but I was so rushed to get out the door and to my job that I didn’t write down the poem that came to me in a dream. It was about Alice in Wonderland and was a complete twist on it, and it was good, too. I don’t receive many poems in dreams but I do have a lot of dreams that become poems. Case in point, yesterday morning I woke up having dreamt of going to a concert for a group I enjoy but my dream was in a post-apocalyptic future (I have many post-apocalyptic dreams) where only one of the members of the group survived. It was a very solemn and sad dream, which makes me wonder what my subconscious was trying to tell me. I didn’t wake up sad though. In fact, I got up and, since we were iced in yesterday, I got quite a bit of housecleaning accomplished. Bored kids, seriously bored kids, will do anything to be able to do anything but clean later on. I know that may not make any kind of sense, but trust me, they will clean up just so they can play on their video games/computers so they don’t have to clean later. The downstairs was cleaned up rather quickly which gave me a little bit of extra time.

What I chose to do with my free time was to come upstairs and look at the next exercise in The Practice of Poetry. It’s about keeping a dream journal and doing it over a period of two to three weeks or longer.You write down anything you can remember, no matter how bizarre, even if it’s not linear or rational. It’s not meant for you to psychoanalyze. What they want you to begin to see are the gaps, the ‘ellipses,’ in your dreams-the subtle shifts between dream states and the characters and chronology of of your dreams. It’s an exercise in seeing how your unconscious mind free-associates. Like the conscious mind translation exercise I showed you last week, this would be an exercise in subconscious translation.

I took it in a different step and began to try and write out what I saw in my dream. But that’s not where the poem took me. It took me to a completely new level I hadn’t dreamt of. Hope you like it.

Try seeing what your dreams tell you and using that for inspiration.

xo Jesi


The Concert

By Jessica Scott


Sitting in the crushed velvet seat,

the musty smell of old costumes, stale popcorn, and too much perfume

assaults my nose and

I watch as others find their spot in the crowded theater,

the sticky flooring grabbing hold of the soles of shoes.

The orchestra warms up, a grand confusion of melody,

while I wait and watch.

La grande dame in red approaches from the side

Stepping on my toes as I stand and let her pass.

“Sorry,” she says and I smile, “It’s alright.”

It’s not her fault the rows are so tightly placed one behind another,

but my throbbing toes still say indecent things to each other.

Then the lights dim and I wait with bated breath

as le chanteur appears, bowing and welcoming us

to the concert of our lives,

or maybe it’s the concert of his, for he gives us

an outstanding performance and then collapses onstage.

The curtains close, the lights go off,

and we leave the theater in whispers and tears.

Jesi Kay
Jesi Kay, poet and aspiring novelist, was born in the Texas panhandle where wide skies, lazy summer days, and rolling thunderstorms sparked her imagination and left lasting memories in her blood. An early reader, poetry and mythology were her passions. So much so that when she was ten years old her step-father gave her his college mythology textbooks to read, which were full of classic poetry and more than enough tales to fill her romantic and inquisitive nature. Jesi loves reading, art, going to the theater, the romanticism of the Victorian era (but not the missing conveniences of indoor plumbing and central air conditioning), running when the heat and humidity cooperate, and cold weather so she can wear her favorite boots and knitwear. Also, she still has those college mythology textbooks, a little worse for wear over time but still intact and telling their stories to her. Jesi is a contributor at The Well Tempered Bards blog and at www.octpowrimo.com.

11 Replies to “Dreaming of Poetry

    1. Thank you and wow…I haven’t watched that movie in ages. When I was writing it I was actually thinking more of Frank Sinatra for some reason. 🙂

        1. Wow! I didn’t know that. I knew he performed until he died but just wow. I’ve always liked Yul Brenner. He was a very charismatic actor.

                1. Oh.My.God. NO!!! I completely see it now!!! Son of a gun….

                  By the way…featured your site in my post today in case you want to share around. 😉

  1. I could feel the atmosphere of your theatre 🙂

    I dream of reading books, 12pt, Times New Roman…lines and lines in the pages (paperback) and as I fall asleep, the words become more and more bizarrely spelled, but they still make sense. That’s now I know I’m dreaming.

    1. I have weird dreams. I don’t really have nightmares and in fact, I can only recall five in my whole life that scared me enough to wake me up. And I apparently whisper scream. That’s where my throat has locked the sound and no one can hear it but me. I’ve done that a couple of times. LOL. It’s kind of funny. Well, AFTER I’ve calmed down. 😀

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