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Death of a Dream

Death of a Dream
by Amy Swanson

Time
existence
goes by
*long drawn out sigh*

gray transforming

overbearing
the happy
once joyful
exuberant bright cheerful eclectic

becoming shadows
misty vapor
rising to the sky
fleeting...
gone.

Days gone by
weeks
and
months
and
years

motions of life
crowd out
emotions of life

This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...

This is where dreams are born.
This is where dreams die.

Spark of light
soft golden
struggles against
darkened mire

hope's ashes
faith's grief
love's despondence

Marigold hue
charred
sphere of night envelopes

Streaks and smudges
of pride
vanity
selfishness
cruelty
deface life's canvas
once glowing brilliant
-- now torn and tainted.

This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...

This is where dreams are born.
This is where dreams die.
Silence...
utter chaos...
sheer madness
consuming life -

they don't know.

They don't care.

They go about
*busily*
trading dreams
spiritual riches
for material fantasies
built with air.

Colorless
consumes the bright

one small spark
daring dream
chasing burgeoning shadows

until exhausted
extinguished...
no more.

This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...

This is where dreams are born.
This is where dreams die.

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Joe Maverick Date: 6/7/2011 11:59:00 AM Very good piece Amy, enjoyed the thought process and presentation, great to read & maybe this will effect someone for the better..!
Maryam Jameela Haniff Date: 3/21/2009 2:53:00 PM this is wonderfully written...I really like the form and your words were chosen perfectly for each line...great write!..love Maryam*
Lena Townsend Date: 3/21/2009 10:04:00 AM Beautiful... great layout and each line drips with the passion and true skill of the writer. Wonderfully written! Smiles from Lolita
Michaela Payne Date: 3/20/2009 8:30:00 AM amy this is amazing, I love the repetition it adds so much, makes it so much more meaningful. So glad I found it. I love your poems, the way they seem to float on the page, and always hold so much feeling. Great write. Blessings, ~Michaela~
Carolyn Devonshire Date: 3/20/2009 8:05:00 AM I love the way you see time passing as "motions of life crowd out emotions of life." Many powerful images and a thoughtfully worded message!
Vince Suzadail Jr. Date: 3/20/2009 7:30:00 AM We have only ourselves to blame if we allow our dreams to die. I'm getting older now (I light my birthday cake for heat) but the dreams stay. This is the place where dreams are born and die. But I would rather dream with death than die without dreaming. I liked this write and thank you for your comments. God Bless. Vince
Arany P. Date: 3/20/2009 6:28:00 AM an excellent thought provoking write.. the presentation just enriches its meaning even more as you wrote! 'colourless consumes the bright...' that is wonderful Amy!! your intersection always crosses my life… I can relate! ~ Arany
James Marshall Goff Date: 3/20/2009 6:22:00 AM almost written like passage of real-time, very cool presentation! reminds me of a '1940's black and white blow -up of a busy NYC "street scene" I once saw, amazing volume of thought in one verse, nice, Amy and thanks for your comments, Jim
Sharon Winter Date: 3/20/2009 6:21:00 AM Amazing write Amy. Yes, this is where dreams are born and die. The repetition of those lines is so powerful. Quite thought provoking with your many excellent lines. Hang in there, new dreams are born every day. Love, Shar
Carrie Richards Date: 3/20/2009 6:12:00 AM Wow..Amy, you've outdone yourself with this layout, and the lyric of this poem. Wonderful writing, beautiful to read and to look at. ~ love, Carrie
Christopher Higgins Date: 3/20/2009 6:08:00 AM This is an incredible write..I love the form but the message of the poem provokes much thought..the words are moving and the ending just brings this for a nice landing..wonderful writing.
L'Nass Shango Date: 3/20/2009 5:44:00 AM I wrote something to Steve that I must make you read: Lilacs are the flowers whose ghost haunts me from my youth, they represent innocense, freedom, and above all the golden opportunities of misplaced dreams. It is the odor of inhibition that was my barrier but the laws of prohibition that I did not rebel against. Every part of your poem captures the esence of what I was trying to tell. Shape reminds me of the illusive butterfly, fragile and yet significantly beautiful as your words.

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