i dreamed a dream

i dreamed a dream
of panthers black
not smooth or sleek
not even fat
these panthers
haunches were so gaunt
not muscled smooth
like big cats flaunt

the night was dark
the stars were bright
i walked a cliff path
by moonlight
the sea below
swelled and subsided
amidst the silence
sound provided

and then i saw them
one, then two
prowling silent
close to you
i recognized you
right away
inspector frost
had come to play

a tv copper
in my dream
how very strange
what could it mean
"be still" i said
"they will not bite,
the queen says they are tame
at night"

that's where i was
just off to tea
to have a chat
the queen and me
she filled my cup
with lady grey
and offered fruit cake
on a tray

she said "my dear
you need to see
a portrait of
some majesty.
they say that sometimes
one might see
a ghost
if one looks carefully"

i looked and then
i laughed with glee
there was no ghost
that i could see
i turned politely
to the queen
and told her what my eyes
had seen

"your majesty"
i had to say
"there is no ghost,
not now, today
what people see
are chickenpox scars
on the faces
of the czars!"

yeah, i know...
but, it's my dream
with panthers black
and england's queen
me taking tea
and eating cake
correcting royalty's
mistake


Copyright © 2010 by Eryll Oellermann

does there need to be a ceremony?

should there be? when you wake up one day and realize ...
your singleness.

it has been a long time coming, this, just me and myself
place i find myself in.

five years, where did they go? i was a lot younger at the
beginning. time marches on and who can blame it, after all,
that would mostly be the purpose of time. by marching it
creates a past and promises a future.

so simply put, i am friggin' sixty one years old and single!
am i afraid? no, i have learned how to be content alone.
happiness is a spring which arises within us, if it runs dry
there is no one to blame. there is no blame, only a need to
remember...
"i am"

so i will exist alone in the moment, until it is time
to be unsingle.

1914 - 1918

troon, snow covered beach january 2010










1914 - 1918

it's a new feeling
the squishy crunch of dry snow
beneath my soles
each footstep creates
a mark, an imprint
on the virgin white

easier to follow
where a thousand other feet
have beaten a path
the impact of foot fall
making the soft solid
still white, not gritted

the salt and grit
have come and gone
run out, used up
to keep britain running
we know how to deal with rain
but this white ...

snow
now that is an experience
it does come at times
and leaves as quick
scarce bothering to sit and wait
until now

weeks of cold white
not even black ice
only white
as far as the eye can see
i walk as do so many others
along the promenade

no clouds, no rain, no wind
big sky clear and cold
red sun slipping away
beyond the far horizon
britannia stands
high on her plinth

watching over the snow bleached beach
the bounding dogs
and determined walkers
one arm raised
feathered quill in hand
the other hand holds a small angel

in memory of those who fell
beyond our seas
1914 - 1918



Copyright © 2004-2010 by Eryll Oellermann