Strange Extremes

I end up dreaming every night,
Of such mixed up funny views,
They're all in vivid colours bright,
I never know what I'll peruse.

Each dream won't have an ending,
Or beginning, so it seems,
All are bizarre in the blending,
Showing very strange extremes.

I'm glad they're only creations
Within my unconcious mind,
Swirling in weird locations,
And everything undefined.

My dream only lasts just barely
Four seconds, in its time,
But it seems to me to be fairly
Long, a bit like a pantomime.

I'm grateful they're not reality,
As they can be quite grotesque,
And scary too, in their totality,
Figments inclined to the burlesque.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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