Oxycontin Dream: NaPoWriMo, Day 4

Oxycontin Dream

“Eggplant,” he says, at two in the morning.
“What if I carved an eggplant
and made it look exactly the same inside as outside.”
“What would you carve it from?” I ask.
I already told you.  Eggplant.”

His eyes roll back, his mind still caught
in the penumbra of his inspiration.
He has been having artistic inspiration all night long.
Now that he suspects his last joint is welded,
his last stone drilled and carved and smoothed,
he is regretting not creating
that one last great piece.

For hours, his arms reach up

in perfect pantomime
joining wood to stone,
stitching paper to frames.

“See that shadow behind Lisa’s head?”  he asks me.
“Well, bring it over here and put it on top,
then take the bed rail off and add it to the bottom.”

When he sleeps, his lips move.
Words almost connected come out half-digested.
Hands reach out and clutch.
“Oh, it’s gone,” he says.  Over and over,
reaching out for each thing almost grasped.



For NaPoWriMo day four, we are to write a poem based on a dream.

13 thoughts on “Oxycontin Dream: NaPoWriMo, Day 4

    1. lifelessons Post author

      Thanks, Diane. He really did keep making sculptures almost until the end–even if they were all imaginary. And he was unlimited in his materials. Anything could be used–a shadow, a beam of light, part of a piece of furniture. It was our problem how to bring them to him.

      Liked by 1 person



      I admit a thought which to me is a dilemma .
      Your life, my dear, appears as one wide open,
      yet to me you still remain an enigma.
      Telling us how you have been coping,
      but thoughts appear as a paradigma,
      popping up and sometime leaves you moping.

      Thoughts hang around as a segment
      of memories, which are just that way,
      showing their selves as a remnant
      of times long past which are with you to stay.
      Then coming out in all your sentiments,
      and will appear my dear in what you may say.

      I see this because I too have been there,
      and such past things often remind me too,
      a word a dream that seems to go nowhere,
      flowers, words, objects, or poems unrelated to you,
      will bring out memories of long ago, but are where
      the evidence is a thought that often makes me blue.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. SAM VOELKER

          Or love, and any other emotions, but I feel that it is also a pressure relief valve for emotions so bottled up in us, that at times we do not realize they are there. I have read that book three times now, (not always page by page), first only seeing all the similarities, the pain, the suddenness, the degradation of a person you love going from beauty to the ugliness of near death,

          Then the second time seeing a reversal of positions of those involved, and finally seeing also the reversal of emotions…. While you saw a person who became crotchety from his pain and medication, while still deep in thought of his love for art. However I had a deepening of her love shown, and deep emotions for everything and everyone around her. Thus my statement. So much alike in our difference, isn’t that life~? The best thing though is that we have both had a long and interesting life, both before and after these memory’s and the ability to tell our story in a way so that others who may benefit from our experience. Sorry for making these statements in a public way; but I have no other way. Some day I may tell you about the third pass~!

          Liked by 1 person

    1. lifelessons Post author

      Thanks, Linda. 6:20 a.m. and there is still a party going on down below. I knocked a glass of water off my night stand an hour ago and have been cleaning up the water and glass, not to mention the pile of books that got soaked and the nightstand that had a sheet of glass atop it that the water got under. Always a new thrill.
      As for the noise down below, guess everyone isn’t taking this shelter in place seriously!!



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