Nightmare Notions Poem by Paul Brookes

Rhyme on a dime
I prefer not to holler for a dollar.
simplicity is best.

bright in your mellow yellowness,
shall I compare thee to weed?
still sour by any other name a dandelion
yellow faced the French call her pissenlit.

sand brushes past my window, hard wind blows,
scraping the glass in a thousand skitters
hissing like dry kisses it leaps from sand dunes.
churning sea waves swish roiling and restlessly rolling.

caught in tossed sheets wrapping me tightly
trying to surface thrashing against the suffocation.
there is no consolation on wakening.

white moon rises and she looks down disdainfully
her cool gaze superior she gathers clouds to herself
hiding behind a veil like an untouched virgin.

Summer is hard to come by, cool rains fall,
foxgloves bend to waters weight, while we wait.

hearing mermaids sing they weeps pearls for long dead Neptune, who faded away from lack of worship.

Sometimes when you write your dreams
they suck you into chaos and you have to
rhyme for a dime
and holler and holler for a dollar.