What follows is a note and poem that my mother sent me about seven years ago, after I published a chapbook of my poetry titled, “Dream House.”
I am posting it here (and on my other blog) in honor of Mom’s 78th birthday. (Happy Birthday Mom.)
Hi Tziv- Actually, the poem is “The Dream Hotel.” No “dream house” this time. I wrote this poem many years ago. It’s on blue lined, 3 hole paper. It’s written in ink. The paper has been folded for a long time. It’s wrinkled and on the first few lines a few words are blurred. Interestingly, I dream about hotels once in a while.
The Dream Hotel
I dream about a hotel.
It is big, rambling.
There are halls that do not lead anywhere.
There are no sounds.
There are elevators that do not work.
There are doors that do not open
Or the doors open to nightmares.
There are no windows in this hotel. It is always dark.
I am lost; I am frightened.
I often dream about this hotel.
This month I am participating, with my students, in “30 Poems in November”, a fundraiser for literacy. We’ll be posting a poem a day on our blog. To sponsor us, or get more information, please send me a message through this site or