Poem #113 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

they said
he had his head stuck
in the clouds

was only ever

they said that he was
and they laughed at him
just a little

it was funny
wasn’t it

he was always off away
inside a dream


he says
he was visited
by a dream
and he’s never been able
to shake it off

he speaks with a small
half a laugh
playing at the corners
of his mouth
and he sort of invites you
to smile along

share the joke

because it happens
to us all
don’t you think

wouldn’t you say


you can’t actually see it
a cloud

there’s no evident
hanging around
that you’re likely to walk into
or brush against

just a vacant stare
a sense
of his absence
while you’re speaking together
as though he’s not there
even though the conversation
goes on


a visit from a dream
has left him touched
changed into vague
what was once

no hope for him

a dreamer

dead loss
just a dreamer

head in the clouds
mind not
on the job

while he’s awake

by a dream

sleep on
you absent fool

© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #114: a choir of whispers


5 thoughts on “visited

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