A rainbow above, a wattlebird lifting below — and somewhere between them, a little daydream opened. This poem follows that gentle climb into thin air, where time loosens, and words drift without lines.
Is Time A Daydream?
Wattlebirds and rainbows do not rhyme, but both are sublime, and glow in the sunshine there above my eyeline.
Perhaps a mirage of mine inside my mind during my daydream time.
Where life is not a crime, and the tall alpines are painless to climb.
Up there, beyond thin air, I breathtakingly find — only words with no lines.
For those still wandering between half-waking and half-dreaming… as daydream time drifts beyond thin air, let this beautiful song carry the journey a little further.
Earlier today, my dragon returned to the page in Part 1 of My Dragon, TheTetralogy — a story of flight, memory, and the quiet ache of what might have been. For this week’s Throwback Friday poem, I’m revisiting a poem from May 2019 that carries the same creature into a different sky. It’s a dream‑journey through New York’s mythic corners, where dragons brush past torches, faeries linger in the trees, and hope rises from the ashes. Below is the poem as I first wrote it — now gently punctuated, but still holding its original fire
Scenes from my 2019 wander through New York — the places where dragons, dreams, and Lennon’s whisper still linger.
This poem first appeared in my debut bookTullawalla, Chapter 3 — “Dragons, Wizards, Faeries, and a Spacecraft”, page 55.
Dragons and Faeries
My dragon flew me to New York, His scaly tail was singed by the stoic statue’s torch as we were landing upon Central Park.
And in the city’s mystical forest I stood among strawberry fields and woods. Atop the plaque of my dreams, I imagined how life should’ve been – my naked soul, a vision unseen.
I have a dream, like John’s world: Togetherness, love pristine, the apple uneaten and the snake shyly beaten.
I see peace, within evil’s tiredness, burnt-out flames of the devil’s nakedness leaving us life’s leftover ashes. Then the peace dove shall arise from the ruins, and the lost faeries will return as humans.
And as these memories rise through mist and music, the old dream leans in once more… imagine.
Feature Image : Created by Copilot and me — a wattlebird rising above a soft, cloud‑washed bridge in the sky. I sent my two photos (attached below) to my Copilot app and asked for an image of a wattlebird flying above a bridge in the sky. This is the result: a golden, dreamlike lift.
Oh, to safely fly above that peaceful bridge in the sky. Like a worldwide dream — a bowtie’s golden ribbon, bandaging the stratosphere together, from here to Shanghai.
A quiet, drifting companion for the poem’s soft ascent.
And so the final arc of my rainbow trilogy rests here, carrying me gently into tomorrow.
Sunday arrives with a softer kind of clarity — rainbow light lingering after the night’s dream‑relay, a lone bird rising through the blue, and the moon keeping quiet watch above it all. After drifting between yesterday, tomorrow, and today, I find myself settling into the calm of the morning, letting its gentle hope unfold in its own time.
Blue Jay Ballet
Dreamtime is a relay where thoughts have no say; they inwardly sway between yesterday, tomorrow, and today – they don’t go away.
Old windows don’t fray, new doors are on delay in different ways
Life’s calmness paddles across the bay Life’s quietness shares my causeway Life’s loneliness is here to stay – come what may
A gentle reminder that tomorrow still waits in the light — and so the sky carries me forward, come what may.
Born at 3 am on a scribble pad, when crumbs of musing refused to let me sleep.
An Unfathomable Mess
To near and far, from inside a cookie jar, I send my midnight scribbles.
I must confess, I’ve delved so deep into crumbled musings and drowsy dribbles, I’ll need to decompress before I resurface for a peep at my unfathomable mess.
A gentle goodnight to follow my unfathomable mess.
Some mornings begin in silence, before memory fully wakes, and the hush before daylight becomes a bridge between darkness and light
And, For Sadje’s #Whatdoyousee #331 – 9 March 2026 – My ‘Poem’ closely represented Sadje’s first Image.
To visit Sadje’s fabulous site, please click >> Here
Where It All Began
It was only six-twenty. I could not remember how my bowl became empty.
What is this strange condition? Then I shifted the position of my inner opposition by refining the leftover light from within the dark of night – when silence suspends time – into the musical sounds of rhyme.
Am I too late to catch the worm, or beyond time’s sonic boom? Is there still more to learn?
“A shadow becomes starlight—dreams tethered, then set free.”
“There’s a thin line that separates courage from stupidity. And that line is only visible in retrospect.” ~Benjamin Franklin. Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word Retrospect. To visit their fabulous site, click >> Here
A Shadow From Above, or, In Retrospect
I sensed a shadow fall from above, Then I saw the image of a dove, Transgress along my causeway.
Am I being led stealthily astray, Or am I to follow my dreams into the hay?
Traverse my future’s highway, Escape this meandering essay. Loosen my tethering tourniquet.
I shall fly beyond the Milky Way – In my ITMIMS open sleigh. Where shadows dissolve into light, And dreams take eternal flight.
I’m too tired to wiggle my toes And pack my wrinkled clothes I’m wordless at the moment My thoughts are on postponement
I twist and roll over Music wiggles inside my head My somersault of dreams Wrinkles my bedspread Upside down Tiredness falls out of my seams Words tumble around Nameless titles and endless tunes abound
A new moon’s brewing Singing the blues, Over my empty town I twist and roll over again I’m back where I started, I hear my angel humming, Hallelujah
