Do Dreams Dream?

Poem By Tony Jolley

I am watching myself, well a part of myself
Apart from myself,
Watching my left thumb absent-mindedly caress
The you that is the soft, fist-furled index finger of my left hand.

You are my index, My Love, the first and only finger,
The doyenne of digits who catalogued and kept my dreams vouchsafed
In your world without walls.
You set them free and freely to you they returned,
For in truth they never left you, Love -
Why ever would one dream-dropp dream
Of exile from its own Eden?


Why is it, when I’m writing that the thoughts I want won’t come,
Whilst those unwelcome and unsummoned announce their arrival with a drum?

Today’s uninvited…?

“Do dreams dream? ”

There was a time – a dry desert of a half-life of a time
I would wilfully lose myself in dreams,
In dreams of anything but the gutteral, discordant tones
Of a language I no longer wanted to hear or speak.
So I would court their seduction of me,
No, rather I’d run to the open arms of that sweet siren song
Whose melody and harmony:
Unique;
United,
Sprang as sparkling water from the very moment when discovery dawned,
A new breed of mathematics was born
And 3 x 2 became forever one form.

But now my dreams, themselves they dream – they would that they will wake,
For what is not has had its day and this they would forsake
To walk into no waking dream but love’s reality,
That sweet oasis-ever, that is known to both as ‘we’.

Comments about Do Dreams Dream?

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of JOLLEY

(red) Indian Summer

Today you’d have been a happy-go-lucky girl:
A teenager up to your eyes in make-up and Maths,
Chatting on MSN and mobile,
Reading chick-lit

Fire On Your Finger

Fire on your finger,
Fire in your eye,
Fire in your spirit,
Fire that won’t die.

Heart And Hand

They were suddenly all around me.
Every sense told me they were there.
Then they gathered me to them
As if the eye of History

Guilt-Edged

No foregone conclusions
No faites accomplis
No ducking of decisions
No get-out-of-jail-frees;

Low-Fi

The face was far older
Than either of us remembered:
The 'laughter lines'
No longer a laughing matter –

A Breed And A Half Apart

She made my day,
Though she will never know it this side of Heaven…..

Sitting in the lee of a wonky, wooden beach-hut: