I also wrote this poem for my poetry class at SLU. This poem is much more reflective of my poetry writing style: short lines, short verses, nouns turned into verbs, cutoff words, obscure culture references. Don't remember the assignment or the story behind this poem. It's been so long that I probably won't remember the stories behind many of my poems.
Movement II
I hear a song,
a floutist serenade
the eyelids fall
and I drift deeper
to dream of better things
A soothing, softly wind
I float to clouds
with freshened wings.
I fly, blown over,
the beauty below
like the rich Italian field
flowing of reeds and flowers
to the wavy hills,
washing with the hues
of European spring
and the restaurant at the river,
a glistened shore by moonlight.
Couples warm the ambience
woven by Debussy’s
celloed yarn
and with me
are the birds,
they sail
in their brethren
to the ‘rizon
Then, the sunrise
the eyes of Ra upon the sands.
Wake, I must awaken,
land, release my wings,
emerge from slumber