Poetry

Poetry Awards 2022 ~ Fourth Entry

Topic: Dreams or Memories

Poem Name: Head in the Clouds, Feet on the Ground

Word Count: 646

Note: This is meant to feel like a story

I used to spend my days sitting on the windowsill, and tapping on the glass,

Wondering if anyone would ever notice me, tucked away and hidden.

The only people who did were the ones who made ridiculous gestures, rude and crass.

If only they had known the full story of who they were pointing at, the dreams that are now bedridden.

Long ago, I used to have my head in the clouds.

My feet were rarely ever on the ground.

I would drift and dream, and fly high above the crowds.

My dreams became my reality - it was just how I got around.

It was just how I got around the dull, boring life outside.

It was just how I got around the tiresome, draining days.

I had made a new, thrilling ride.

I had made a set of new ways.

When people asked me about the things I've done, I would give them my honest answer.

I recounted my memories of flying through the air and riding into the sunset.

All I ever got in response was a bemused look, then a laugh, then a whisper.

More and more people started whispering and jeering, they started to tell me that I had lost it.

They thought that I had lost my grip on reality.

They thought that my memories were just made up and all fakes.

I told them it was a lie, that it was not a possibility.

I told them that I would prove it, that I would do whatever it takes.

I embarked on a daring quest, through jungles and snow.

I fought many dragons and manticores.

Finally, I found it, the scroll with all of the information on what there was to know.

I brought it to them, and gave their pride some ugly sores.

In response, I was sent away.

I was to live in a dungeon, drab and with no flavour.

I was told that that was where I would make a little stay.

Only one thing could reassure me, distract me from the terrible bore.

Over and over, people said that they were not real.

Over and over, people said that they had never happened.

Over and over, people said that my memories were dreams made to make zeal.

Over and over, people said that I needed to stop exploring, and that my so-called 'dreams' had to end.

I just couldn't take it.

So I went to  to the window, and curled up against the glass.

I said the magic words, closed my eyes, and was gone in a minute.

Once again, I was in another world, feeling that there was nothing out there that I couldn't surpass.

But then the witch came and shook me out of my world.

She brought me back and used her magic to make sure that I could never go back.

She made sure that my lovely world unfurled.

Now there was nothing to do, all was gone after the witch's attack.

I was left just sitting there and tap, tap, tapping on the glass,

Looking outside and wondering if my friends from my world will ever come and rescue me.

That feeling of freedom from my beautiful world was gone, I had moved from platinum to brass.

And then I began to doubt if it was a true memory.

Maybe it really was just a dream.

Maybe I did make it up.

Maybe the flowing river was just a trickling stream.

Maybe the howling wolf was just a whimpering pup.

So now I spend my days going over what I thought I knew,

Looking out my window back home, and staring at the world.

I realize that this is the reality that is true.

Not the one that I made, but this one here, crazy and whirled.

Dreams and memories, memories and dreams.

If you are not careful, you might forget the difference.

At first it's sweet, turning clothes from seams,

But then you start to find no way out, trapped in your own mind without knowing that you've gotten that sentence.

Let your head go into the clouds, but keep your feet on the ground.

Remember that it isn't dreams and memories, it's dreams or memories.