When We Wait More Than We Write
A.k.a. What To Wear to a Dream
I wore a purple poet’s beret
in my dream last night
and asked a room full of strangers
if they could guess who I was
No one guessed
even after our eyes
became accustomed
to darkness
I walked through the crowd
until I met another poet
waiting for a poem
she could risk herself on
We call ourselves poets
to conjure the spells
We wear berets
and quit our jobs
We sit in parked cars
and watch people
through lighted windows
We count the stars
and wonder if one will fall
They never fall or burn in our laps
We have to wait for them
like we wait for the dreams
that know our names
We wait for poems that fit like skin
We dream them from a distance
then write them close in
We wear our berets
whether asleep or awake
until our dreams and poems
are inseparable
________Colleen Redman / Poets United
September 8th, 2019 10:17 am
As I was reading I felt I was walking into your dream. Wandering amongst dreamers looking for the words,
the poems that would speak the language of my dream.
I think our dreams and poems do bond.
I love the whole concept of this poem.
September 8th, 2019 10:20 am
How I enjoy this, Colleen and some of the straightforward but still stellar lines like:
“as we wait:
“for dreams
that know our dreams…”
“poems that fit like shin…”
and: “until our dreams and poems
Are inseparable…”
You certainly tell it like it is – so a big thanks to you for that!
September 8th, 2019 11:19 am
The mix of mundane (parking lots, berets like work badges) and amazing (poems as skin dreamed then written) is beautiful. It’s the second glance that catches the wonder that then becomes the poem.
September 8th, 2019 12:03 pm
The beret works so beautifully to anchor the ethereal in this tale as we wait for inspiration to fall in our laps.
September 8th, 2019 12:11 pm
Does a poet ever take off her beret? I mean, wouldn’t that be disastrous if she did?
September 8th, 2019 12:18 pm
I love the perspective in this poem, the poet in purple beret, wandering in search of a poem. Love it. This is my FOURTH attempt to leave a comment.
September 8th, 2019 12:24 pm
Sherry, I unspammed it. I don’t know why it went to spam and hope that fixed it for other times.
September 8th, 2019 2:11 pm
I enjoyed walking through your dream with you, Colleen, and I must find a purple poet’s beret to go with my new purple glasses.
September 8th, 2019 2:37 pm
This is incredibly evocative! ❤️ I enjoyed walking through the poetic journey/dream with you 🙂
September 8th, 2019 4:00 pm
I think sometimes I would like to find my poems in a dream like this…
September 8th, 2019 4:44 pm
I wonder – if one begins to associate a particular hat/cap with writing poetry, would poems flow much more easily? I understand waiting for a poem to fit like skin. Sometimes the wait is a long one.
September 8th, 2019 5:30 pm
That’s a great question, Mary. I’ve been asking it myself. Kind of like a poet’s thinking cap. I have a real purple beret (gifted to me by my sister) that I could try wearing during the day. This poem was definitely pulled from the dream state.
September 8th, 2019 9:33 pm
I will have to start wearing a beret to get more inspiration for my poems. The trouble with dreams is that you don’t always remember them. However your poem was delightful and so inventive Colleen.
September 9th, 2019 5:50 pm
Many years ago in my twenties, I crocheted myself a black beret; but someone asked me who did I think I was, an existential poet or something? It was before I was publicly a poet. I got all self-conscious and stopped wearing it … wonder whatever became of it. Perhaps I will make myself a purple one now! Soon to be 80, I stopped caring about others’ opinions long ago. Love your dream!
September 9th, 2019 9:54 pm
Maybe I ought to wear a beret. Poems used to come to me as I walked down the street. Everything was a poem then. Could they have taken other forms that I still continually walk past?