The Dream Garden by H.L. Dowless

Oh,

garden of my splendid fantasy,

saturated with elegance, enchantment,

and intellectual mystery;

a gently purling stream is moving my Jon boat forward

through exotic realms of gilded history.

Massive Doric columns stand proudly on either side,

while my boat glides along so smoothly,

flowing in the Elysium tide.

Trails meander from gray sand and water side,

through roses,

chrysanthemum,

and azalea,

pausing as the weeping willow surrounding me cries,

when the air is saturated by lavender wisteria.

Grand statues of Hellenist Gods and secessionist philosophers

guard each movement of my way,

generating such intrinsic pride filled moments,

while forever pausing in amazing grace!

Sky of rouge reigns high above,

rose rays of a glorious sun reach outward,

enveloping me as if filled with such passion and love,

as I am motivated gently onward.

No thunder rolls in this crystal vision of mine,

all battles have been solidly conquered,

while the water tinkles a majestic pantomime,

in a cheer filled rhythm ne’er heard before.

The illustrious celestial Madonna whispers my name,

gingerly drawing me ever nearer,

when I finally pause before her

I shall not remain the same,

my solid destiny has never been clearer!

I perceive her whispers emanating from beyond in the sky,

seemingly they float upon the air!

There exists no reasons to ever ask why,

inside this infinite land without despair.

On either side massive temples house deeply seated intellectuals,

gifted thinkers peering beyond the realm of mortals.

Here there is no commanded prenuptial,

as one pauses inside those magnanimous marble portals.

The past bears revelations of the dawning future,

along with manifestations of the present.

An angelic oracle informs us in regard to blessings

humanity may aspire to,

since in this oasis all is heaven sent.

When at nighttime finally I lay down to close my eyes,

after consuming a holy ambrosia liquid,

backwards into this sacred vision I always fly,

where mankind’s degenerate modernity never lives.

Bio

H.L. Dowless writes: "I have been a writer and author for over thirty years. I had only scattered publishing successes, however, until maybe six years ago. My father was a firm believer in never speaking anything negative out loud, since spirits all around one will make it come to pass. On New Year's Eve six years ago, in total darkness I lit candles at midnight, addressing the good spirits surrounding me aloud, saying I wanted my writing and traditional publishing success stories to vastly increase. Indeed my successes have vastly increased since! I have been published by more than 200 magazines, literary journals, and publishing companies. I signed three traditional publishing contracts recently with Pen It Publishing. A novel of mine was recently published by them called Southbound to Angel Island. What I am seeking to accomplish now is to land a prestigious literary prize, and an agent, which is no lean feat to pull off. I want to produce a unique work that will endure the ages."

Author's note

The inspiration for this particular poem was from a dream. I keep a notepad by my bedside, since I forget dreams if I don't write them down immediately. I write a poem or at least a page (600 words) every day at 0500 before work, which starts at 0800.

My wife claims I am obsessed with writing, and she is probably right. I fantasize about being a foreign correspondent for a news agency, but I wind up teaching ESL English somewhere overseas, or history back home in the states, since such writing jobs appear to have faded away with the Lost Generation. Writing is a side of my life that only those worthy of me telling know about. Sometimes teaching contracts can be tough to land, and I do other things. When I came back from China five years ago, I took a job welding pipes. Presently I am doing property maintenance with an apartment rental company. I am not in love with the work, but the money and benefits are decent, and jobs are very plentiful, facilitating my mobile lifestyle. I move around lots. Maybe a really good gig will open up somewhere in the near future, especially if a big war breaks out. Who knows, maybe a decent writing opportunity will pan out, if time doesn't sneak up on me first, since I am not a spring chicken anymore. Here is my blog if anyone wants to know more.