Rooted under eyelids
lost images of pursuit
fled through bedded gardens
where smiling sycophants fawned a preacher
who locked the gate behind me.
Deadly and benign.
Waiting for a sign
he chuckled
and looked toward his god.
Undignified and holy.
He slammed me down.
My face became a radish.
Its roots sought water through the dirt.
Brenda Warren 2020
Adventures in Poetry and Writing
brenda warren
Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
All students need a safe and caring school environment
Just another WordPress.com site
poetry by nicolas ryan brown.
Writing for Wholeness
Waiting on Words
A Feminist Literary Collective (& outlaw poets swearing)
"What a strange bundle of consistent inconsistencies we all are." Mary Ronan
The weather and the light are just different out here...and sometimes you have to find the words for things.
My poetry is my religion.
Sunshine on Razor Wire: perspectives from "inside"
Be inspired...Be creative...Be peace...Be
a weekly flash fiction prompt inspired by google maps
Observations from the loose nut behind the wheel.
spiritual enlightenment and self improvement
undercaws 
And for this you became a Buddhist.
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Used to have repetitive nightmares as a child and some remained into adulthood. Finally learned how to work with the dream material and they don’t occur anymore. Your details are haunting Brenda, but make for a great poem…
Elizabeth
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Great imagery, Brenda.
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Excellent job of describing the horror possible in a dream. Your images are so good!
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Sounds like a surreal nightmare! Intriguing visuals.
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