Strange Dreams Poem by Göran Gustafsson

Strange Dreams

Rating: 5.0


When no one is here my soul to keep
A dream comes to me where I sleep
In the darkness I hear the angels weep
And my mind is flying low and deep

I see people thrown in the burning sea
I see them drown in greed and desire
I can feel the smell of burning flesh
And I hear the cries from cities on fire

I see them rise like mist from the grave
In line upon line they walk enslaved
They've tried to take heaven by force
And were lost on the way to be saved

Some people carry the sign of the Cross
Some they listen to the Prophet's call
Others they wear the Star of David
But Abraham is father of all

At the roadside a lonely horseman rests
Tired from riding his pale white horse
Unseen by the people walking past
With hardened hearts without remorse

The horseman carries an ancient mission
On his lonesome journey from dawn of time
To mend the vessels and bring us a vision
Of the Golden City in our Self so sublime

Copyright © 2009 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Romeo Della Valle 20 December 2009

Excellent, well penned, beautiful poem, you got my vote10+++

0 1 Reply
Yacov Mitchenko 20 December 2009

Interesting piece, sir. The style is slightly reminiscent of Blake.

0 1 Reply
Alison Cassidy 31 December 2009

Your poem explores that which binds us all - an abiding need to understand and make sense of our world. The poem is nicely phrased and the final stanza in particular lingers in the mind's eye. Look forward to reading more of your work. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

0 1 Reply
Goran Gustafsson 08 February 2010

the poem has been rewritten and enlarged / yours GG

0 1 Reply
Smoky Hoss 06 January 2011

Wonderful writing, and thinking. I enjoyed this very much.

0 1 Reply

A true and inspired poem. A little theology behind it? Great read, enjoyed it!

0 1 Reply
Richard Hexem 02 April 2010

Haunting! You have great vision. 'And the end will make us free'.

0 1 Reply
John Oconnell 28 February 2010

i like this one but don't want to go into theology and all that or there would be no poetry written. we could talk about God till the cows come home. like St. Paul i am a convert and base my simple faith on a benign Being who has all our interests at heart. john o'connell

0 1 Reply
Romeo Della Valle 14 February 2010

Great improvement my friend...I am glad you did it, there is still plenty of time for more excellent poems from you to the whole world....Keep it up...

0 1 Reply
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