I dreamt some poetry this morning. That's a first. The first line was the clearest, and the last line seemed to stick in my head, as well. I actually saw several stanzas, but couldn't work out what they were.
Coleridge, famously, dreamt up the poem Kublai Khan, but was unable to write it all down before some unnamed person from Porlock came on business and made him forget it all.
Here's the poem:
Time is all in an hour glass fall
Life is a breath of wind
Love is feather touch on your skin
Death is a state of mind.
How soppy can you get? If only the Person from Porlock had come and screamed into my ear 'WAKE UP' a few minutes earlier, none of this would have happened.
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2 comments:
I thought it was Kubla Khan. Noble pleasure domes and such, yes, but no 'i'. Does this mean you were also on opium?
Alas, no. There are no good laudanum vendors in my neighbourhood. But I had had two beers and a coffee prior to going to bed, which might have had something to do with it.
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