The following story was related to me by a poet, in the autumn of the year 2013.  The poet had retired to bed after partaking of herbal tea and cigarettes, from the effects of which she fell asleep, just as she was contemplating the opening lines from Kubla Khan.

 

The poet remained in a deep sleep until awoken by the radio alarm clock, at which point she began to experience the most vivid imaginings.  What follows are the only surviving recollections, which the poet believes to be more of a psychological curiosity than an actual poem with any merit.  She intends to make a whole poem from it at some point, but wished me to note down the fragment, such as it is.

 

               * * * * * * * * * *

 

07:00

Radio 4

John Humphrys announcing the news

Press snooze

Lie back

Begin to imagine I’ll write a great poem

when I finally wake for the day

Burning elation begins in my throat,  

fires my belly

Fall back, back, slow into sleep

 

I hear the alarm

Time 07:09

Press snooze

Become more convinced I will write perfect lines

when I wake

It will take in the timings and snoozes,

the burn in my belly

The poem, unknown, starts to shine with a glow

Shapes iced in diamonds

are filling my head with

This must be a dream

 

The alarm goes again

07:18

Press snooze

The poem gets stronger, radiance shimmers,

it’s brighter than ever;

I’m swelling with pleasure and expectant joy

The poem, unknown as to content, shivers in bliss

Euphoria!

It will be the best poem ever!

I will write it as soon as I wake!

Slow, slide, fall into sleep

 

07:27

The final alarm

I wake up, euphoric, head bursting with sunlight so bright I am blinded!

YES!

It is time!

It will come!

Now I will write such a poem so great that I cannot contain it for one second’s breath

NOW I will write it!

NOW it will come!

NOW!

Yes!

Now

 

It

fades

Sloughs away like

dead skin,

pink blossom,

falling, falling

This thing of my beauty, ephemeral, fleeting,

never quite formed, but so ripe with potential

It’s there…it was there…

now dissolved,

in dismay

Gone to dust,

in the light of the day and the first breath I take and the state I was in when I woke and I

can’t quite believe that it’s

faded away

And my joy turns to grief

in a dot.

 

My person from Porlock was Radio 4

I have had this dream twice now…