A Tattooed Blond
I’m neither here nor there
Half asleep nor half awake
Not quite conscious
Like a drifting snowflake
Sinking through a prism
Where I fantasize and over-achieve
Seeing a blond-haired vixen
Thinking I’ve seen her tatt’s before
I’m retreating, hiding
From her beckoning embraces
My drunken mates at the bar
Giggling and smirking, as if I can’t see
Between, there’s a tattered curtain
A pale veil, shadows lurking
A vision surreal, of blue, red and black
Like a fiery chasm
The blond’s tattoos, twitch and spasm
Chasing my body into the surf
Waves crashing over, and around
A bubbling sensation, wildly scary
I sprawl atop the tattoos in the sand
And I wonder what to do
With her bloodied tattooed hand
Wishing I could escape from here or there
I suddenly awaken, and burst into tears
Recognising my weakest fears
Featured Image: Bing Images, Pineterest
Ivor Steven (c) September 2017
Those fears can be nighttime terrors!
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Thank you Donna… the terrors were close to real 💙🌏
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I enjoyed this adventure…. dreams can be so vivid!
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Whoa! Stunning piece, Ivor. This brings on a plethora of descriptives – compelling, powerful, clever and amusing. Love this!
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Thank you Eugenia, your comments have made my day
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Ivor, dude! Wicked good poem, to use my New England parlance, wicked awesome. Love the surrealism of it, especially “I sprawl across her tattoos on the sand”. Totally love this. Stephen
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Thank you for reading Stephen, I appreciate your wondrous comments
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🤓👍🤓
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Reblogged this on Ivor.Plumber/Poet and commented:
Another one of those dreams,
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great piece Ivor! Thanks for charing!
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