By the slow-flowing river running full
I saw a soldier slump and slide
By the old ruined farmhouse wall
I smelt the smell of burning oil
If I have trouble to tell a dream
And dreams invade the dreamless land
Nothing is quite what it once seemed
The water wavers, soil is sand.
Here’s an example of the recurring images I talked about a little while ago. In fact, it’s not just an image but a phrase: “Dreams invade the dreamless land”. It came to me, I included it in a poem, then another poem – I just felt I hadn’t fully worked out the riches of the words.