Dreamscapes

Poetry

Below are a selection of poems by S.C.Vincent, including "Door of Dreams" which was the 2008 Winner of the David Burland Poetry Prize. The competition was judged by the French Poet and Philosopher, Michel François. For further information on Michel François and his work, please visit his website at

 www.michel-françois.com

 Davy

For My Love

Silent as the snowy mantle, falling through darkness
Unlooked for, to greet a pristine dawn;
Warm as the summer sun that sails the sky
In splendour, giving life and Light;
Wild as the storm wind sweeping the hilltop
Powerful, charged and renewing;
Soft as an angels kiss, bringing its blessings,
Ineffable, held in God’s hand;
Burning with fire, the passion of lovers,
Whitest flame, hearts incandescing;
Gentle as spring rain, life-giving softness
Like jewels, trembling on the web;
As vast as the ocean, deeper than the abyss
Ever changing, yet constant in faith;
Beloved as Earth, home for a lifetime,
Dwelling within, sheltering our lives;
All I imagine, my deepest of dreams
The soul’s quest, I have found in YOU.

Yours…

Yours were the lips that breathed against mine,

Sharing the warmth of desire in the darkness

Sharing the chill of a winters morning, laughing,

Like children, untrammelled by fear

Or the mendacities of survival.

Yours was the touch that opened me to fire,

To the conflagration of self, the immolation of passion

On an altar of self sacrifice and world denial,

Willing victim of the deepest blaze,

Consuming consummation.

Yours were the eyes, blue as the glacial ice

That bound me in flame and warped my perception,

Focussing my vision on the single point of your heart,

Blinding me with tomorrows that drew me inwards,

Drowning in the moment’s purity.

Yours was the joy of tender awakenings,

Feathered caresses in the dawn glow of slumber,

Golden in the mornings with the suns kiss,

Jealous of the shadows that hid your face

Beneath the duvet.

 If wishes had wings


If wishes had wings
I could travel the skies
With the wind in my dreams
And my nest in your eyes.

If dreams ran like rivers
I’d be at your side
Where the water runs cold
And the salmon abide.

If hopes soar like mountains
Mist shrouded and white
My soul would touch heaven
In your arms each night.

If joy, like a flower,
So fragile, unfolds
I’ll nurture my garden
Until we grow old.

 I

I am not real. I never was.
The wind blows, carrying me like a winter leaf.
Fragile, I hold life in my hands;
I have no life of my own.
Life carries me where it wills,
My choices are not mine to make.
Yet I hold the Keys.
I am the Gate of Life and Portal of Death.
Eternity is my gift.
I mirror the world and am, myself, its reflection;
Unreachable, unreal.
Separate from the stream.
None touch me, and all.
Am I the courage to follow a dream?
I go where I am sent.
Unchanging, I bring change.
Both cause and catalyst.
Change follows my touch, blood behind the scalpel,
For good or evil, I do not know,
Nor may I stay to see the end.
But pay the price in pain.
I fly through dream.
I walk the nightmare alone,
Terrifying semblance of reality,
A landscape of hooded hills.
A conquered mountain, a shrouded vale unknowable.
Ghouls taunt me, shadows of Self,
Echoed in vision.
My masks are many,
None knows them all, even I.
Some own a mask and believe they hold me
But I hide in laughter and hunger, waiting.
My time is not yet,
And has always been now.
I am a dream, a fantasy,
Smoke in a sunbeam, elusive.
Joy and pain render me visible,
Yet both are tenuous,
Fragile as snow, shadows in the glass.
I am not real. I never was.

Ma Quête

J’ai cherché sans te trouver,
Dans les étoiles qui scintillent
Et les ténèbres profondes
Sans te voir.
Je te croyais fantôme,
Image de l’espoir,
Né du désire,
Ephémère comme la brume
Ou mon rêve.
Je ne savais pas
Que tu y étais déja,
Ame de mon âme
Qui m’attendais
Au fond du cœur



I sought without finding
In the shimmering stars
And the deep shadows
And saw you not.
I thought you a phantom,
Image of hope,
Born of desire,
Ephemeral as the mist
Or my dream.
I knew not
That you were already here,
Soul of my soul,
Waiting for me
In the depths of my heart.

Damned teenagers….

A range of smelly socks and pants
That decorate their room
An air of Gothic misery
Allied with doom and gloom..
The pre-dawn fumbling at the door
With keys that just won’t go
Because (their tipsy minds assert)
The keyhole wobbles so…
Music (that defies the name)
Rebounding off the wall,
Yet they are quick to raise their voice
When Verdi’s strains enthral!
They are frustrating, noisy things
Of boundless appetite,
Who cannot put a loo seat down
Nor yet turn off a light!
And yet, when midnight catches me
For old loves lost with tears,
And memories return to haunt
The present with their fears,
When chips are down and bets are off
And life just seems a muddle
Its teenagers who give the love
And comfort of a cuddle.

For a Friend

Love, do you hear me through the cold mists?

Do you hear my voice amid the silent hours?

Can you feel my arms enfold you in your solitude

And know I’ll stand beside you through this life of ours?

Do you know your lonely cry has touched my soul?

And though we stand a thousand miles apart

With tenderness I’ll wrap my soul around you

And hold you close forever in my heart.