The Rhythm of the Dream Weaver

I have several self-therapeutic methods that I turn to when I need to reign in my topsy-turvy whirlwind of thoughts and anxieties. One of my tried and true methods is to write. It can be simple journaling, poetry, or a chapter or two in whatever book I'm working on; and sometimes it looks like plain old gibberish. Today it is a poem; a sonnet. Sonnets are my favorite! 

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The Rhythm of the Dream Weaver

The weaver strums chords of hope with his sandman fingers, 

Waltzing his way through her repeated dreams.

The music takes her mind from the madness that lingers,

As she shuffles her way through a madman's schemes.

The Maestro's resounding harmonies join to lead her,

In wake or sleep, or between the two states.

He strums and he hums 'til he creates a believer

In the melody, chorus, and rhythm of fate.

She sways to the melody that echoes the spirit,

Residing within the walls of her mind.

Intertwining their chorus of rhythm and lyrics, 

With a choreographed dance she can mime.

She sings and she dances, and is no longer afraid

Of rattling bones in closets, and the choices they've made!

© Michelle LaDuke 2018

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If you enjoyed this sonnet, I hope you'll read 

The Weeping Tree

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Until next time!
May your blessings be many and your troubles be few!

The Rhythm of Woven Dreams by Michelle LaDuke

I should probably know who coined the phrase, "If you have lived then you have a story to tell." I don't; but not to worry myself, I can relish in its profound impact on my very existence. Profound maybe only to me; profound none-the-less.

I have lived. 

I have lived and I have watched others live, which has given me the opportunity to take the photographs held within a little girl's mind, heart, and soul; and draw into the pages of my writing - a panoramic view of her life!

Told in first person narrative, this story interposes and intertwines the realities of a little girl's nightmares with her daydreams and fantasies of hope. Janie wades through the ocean of life's highs and lows searching for her self worth; her place in this world. 

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You can order my book on Amazon.

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Until next time!

May your blessings be many and your troubles be few!

Weeping Tree Sonnet

When I was just a little girl, I would lean my back against the trunk of the willow tree in my grandparent's backyard. Shaded by its branches, I would set pen to paper and write my childish poems. I felt protected by the tree that seemed, always, to be crying. In this sonnet I have intimately juxtaposed the life of that tree and the lives beneath that tree, with the emotions of generations to come in my family tree. And humbly, I rejoice that they have wept for me!

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The sonnet is my favorite form of poetry, so when my college professor challenged me to write a sonnet, I was ready!

 I knew I specifically wanted to stay true the idea of sonnets of old, written mostly of love and philosophy. I wanted my sonnet to have iambic pentameter, and have four quatrains with an ending couplet, using the abab, cdcd, efef, gg rhyme scheme. I was asked to finish my poem in one week; it took two. This particular sonnet is included in a published work The International Library of Poetry's, Tracing the Infinite. My profile and poem are featured as the first work in the book.

I'm not sure why, but for too long a while, I had quit writing. Today while doing some much needed spring cleaning, I came across the book. With some emotion, a sigh, and a smile, I decided I would take the poem off the shelf and share it with you!



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Weeping Tree

Your tears water the seeds beneath my bones
Traveling the Earth, joining ancestry
Binding the knowledge of yesterdays gone
Graciously promising infinity

Binding futures with your fountain of tears
Branching the heavens in search of our roots
Gracefully keeping in touch with the years
Winds whisper wishes of splintering truths

Locked away skeletons, hidden for shame

Silently pay homage to memories 

Eroded by storms of blood and its stain

Smothering images of destiny

In awe of explanations there may be

Humbly I rejoice you have wept for me

Michelle E LaDuke

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© Michelle LaDuke 2015