Dream Like Dali

Picture source: Salvador Dali 1904 – 1989

she came striding to the edge of the sun baked
sand like an hourglass held up by time,
then she was still; her long legs equidistant

he lay heel to toe with the savage sun
like a mummy bandaged in alabaster;
humanity encrusted with parched earth –
it had partially eaten him –

a dried out dove clung on to his chest
since his ribs were a near perch
for the wasted observer;
tired of flying,
tired of singing,
lost in his search for peace,
feathers carved with
fine dried clay – its fissures
like veins devoid of faith – baked
but incomplete,
badly in need of rest

her elongated shadow buried
them both
before she knelt on the earth
for water to pour from dainty,
silver rivulets
that ran her body
though she was smooth
and flowing sand

he watched her rise
striking the sky
with her cool, black silhouette
but on the floor it lay
outstretched – an amber pool
of honey;
he placed in it his hand
to taste her

he was quenched, fed.  Arid skin
of dust and clay fell away as did the dove,
which had replaced his heart –
its wings shattered
into a thousand pieces until baby soft powder
dusted the gritty, sparkling floor

a billowing white cloud produced a magnificent
topaz bird; its plumage was a thousand lights
of peaceful nights held in its tail eyes
of beautiful iridescence –
tail eyes that had once glimpsed peace
in a thousand colours: turquoise, ocean green
and gold …

quill feathers wafted the zircon grains
of the sand, writing new rules,
posturing and reshaping
the beautiful but cruel foundations of peacock ore
too brittle to walk on, creating swank waves
of peacock blues,

and it strutted till a thousand feathers
fell on the sand
to rise again as blood red ceramic poppies
that poured in an avalanche from the gaping
mouths of soldiers still inside tin helmets –
grown men like babes still fighting
inside their dreams

he tried to pick the wild flowers for her
but barbed, razor wire snagged
his crumbling fingers,
and hidden behind those were children’s faces
pressed against wire mesh
on the shores of green, unpleasant oceans
that gulped and gagged; force fed a rigorous diet
of helplessness and hope
each time sand was flipped inside the hourglass

he gripped her waist
but as his reflection caught on her glass bosom
it shattered her frame

a thousand more grains of sand
flowed like the salt
of his tears – sprinkled gently
from a watering can’s wise rose
trying to feed the presumption of green
leaves between his toes

his flaking sinews were drawn
to his chest; he wore a small hole
where the dove had nestled –
dust stung his eyes
before his tattered hand rose to form a bridge
that the sun rode across
to join him at his journey’s end

red jewel fish swam ahead of her
in shoals of beating hearts –
riders corralled the sand storm’s cloth
approaching like a whirling dervish;
her titian hair held black almond desert eyes,
and their glinting sunlit flecks
consumed time in their frenzy –
she placed the convergence; a plump,
red heart
within his rib cage,

she was a belly dancer for a while
on the sand’s hypnotic gyrations
prompting creatures with a spin of time
to play music
inside of their shells

her lips were kissed by
one thousand butterflies, and her open palms
let loose a chorus of small white doves;
all of the notes to harmonise man’s discord –
all willing one more time to fly away
in a relentless search for peace and to sing
for another one thousand years –

time enough, she thought, before they’d need
a place to rest

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Author: Anita Lubesh

I write poetry/prose/stories/short stories/verses for children/sketch/and have 6 chapters of a novel sitting there like that half eaten trifle in the fridge or bottle of Jack Daniels because something makes you afraid to eat it or drink... right now.. I am a proud Geordie from England's northern hemisphere and the beautiful city of Newcastle upon Tyne. I live with my lovely husband who came all the way from sunny California just for me, and my favourite animal, Bobble, our dog. I am a member of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth and wish we could all do more, especially today, when such a lot is wrong.

26 thoughts on “Dream Like Dali”

      1. I have enjoyed Klimtz without knowing it and just learned recently when I watched the great film, Woman in Gold.
        But I love Dali & Escher.

        Liked by 1 person

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