Amy Swanson Poet Free verse

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 June 7, 2011 at 11:59 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 March 21, 2009 at 2:53 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 March 21, 2009 at 10:04 AM Beautiful... great layout and each line drips with the passion and true skill of the writer. Wonderfully written! Smiles from Lolita

Michaela Payne March 20, 2009 at 8:30 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 March 20, 2009 at 8:05 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. March 20, 2009 at 7:30 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. March 20, 2009 at 6:28 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 March 20, 2009 at 6:22 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 March 20, 2009 at 6:21 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 March 20, 2009 at 6:12 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 March 20, 2009 at 6:08 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 March 20, 2009 at 5:44 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.