*Let’s gather our friends and make a storm,
to a circle of dreams, surrendered.
Our silhouettes in firelight perform;
Are the dead glad to be remembered?
We live again in celebration,
barreling through centuries of secrets.
The rites of our reincarnation
will render us forever sleepless.
We are the dragons of the mountains;
we may be sleeping one thousand years,
yet once drunk on youth from the fountains,
we all become willing volunteers.
The dead are glad to be remembered
by those of us creating the storm,
when to all our dreams we surrendered;
so they live on within us; reborn.
*I don’t think I wrote this line but, yet again, I forget where it came from. I often take notes of lines I like and come back to them much later. Sometimes I remember to put the source too. Sometimes not!
This poem was submitted to an AllPoetry assignment and was actually a bit of a struggle to write despite the assignment being based on rhyme, which is what am I most used to writing. Trying to include all the elements learned in the course so far sometimes makes me think too much about it and so I don’t get the flow that I would like.
I haven’t got feedback on this assignment as I write this but I’m guessing that they will respond that it’s not exactly clear what this poem is about, and that’s a fair enough assessment. To be honest, I had the first and fourth lines jotted down and then tried to write rhymes around them and see what came out of that as the subject.
It seems to be about remembrance and celebration of those who came before us. I was imagining tribal dances around fires at night and the myths we make in remembrance of our elders. Hopefully, that came through before you read this section!
1994ever 