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Best Dream On Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Dream On poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of dream on poems written by PoetrySoup members

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DREAM ON by Grenness , Julie
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The Best Dream On Poems

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Love Sleeps, Never Dies

An old man
A Grumpy bitter old man
Bitter face
Red nose
Wrinkled beady eyes
Scruffy clothes his best attire

Life has not been kind
So his bitter words bite those around
He lived alone, inside his madness
Leave me be and go to hell
His favorite expressions

The phone rang one night late
This is the Court sir, your brother’s son and family 
Have been in a terrible accident
Only your niece of four survived
When can you pick her up?

The old man was in a daze
What the hell was he being punished for now
Keeping care of a dam kid
What the bloody hell did he know about that?
"Well sir, we will be expecting you tomorrow, 9am prompt please"

Walking back to his flat, with a 4 year old girl in tow
Well the neighbors gawked to say the least
The poor little girl, tears and teddy, trying to keep up with grumpy
Once inside his flat, he looked at her with disdain
Said "Guess you be expecting some food or some such"

She nodded, as sad as she was, she was indeed hungry
He showed her the cupboard and fridge, milk and cereal in there
Help yourself, and wash the dam dishes afterwards
Don’t got no extra bed, so you sleep here on the couch
She nodded silently, thinking the world truly must have ended

Days, turned into weeks, turned into months
This little girl complained not once
All she could think of was her pain
Mummy and daddy were in heaven where ever that was
Why they left her was truly confusing

Friday was her birthday
She was sad and missing her family
Getting ready, she went to the cupboard for dinner
The old man said what the hell you doing that for?
She shivered in fear, he was always so so so mad

She apologies, sorry uncle Pete
He replied you sit your self down right there
And you be quiet you here?
Then the lights all of sudden went out
Bright tiny candles burned in the night

The old man, said, is your birthday after all
Hope you don’t mind these little cupcakes I got us here
She looked at him with new eyes
He turned, not quite smiling, no miracles just yet
They ate in silence after which, he said good night and happy birthday

The next morning even they really never talked
Other than who does what chores
Or how expensive she was to care for
She asked out of the blue
"Uncle, why do angels have wings?"

In his usual grumpy way, he replied
"So they get the hell away from us as fast as they can is why
This world is no place for happiness or angels get used to that"
She was taken back by his bitterness, still………
She replied, “but I dream on them looking over me uncle"

Well he looked at her, and somewhat softly and with unusual kindness
He answered her "that’s because you are one of them, a sweet little angel"
She ran into his arms and gave him a big hug
This was a very good thing.
For then she could not see the single tear the dropped to the floor

He actually hugged her back and with all of his heart
That day, a day for most people that was a normal day
Was for him and his little charge, a miracle
A small loving child, held that secret key
To opening an old mans heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Strings Attached

Carved from tree.
dreamy face, sadness not a trace.
A wood carver dreams of having child.
A spirit wistful running wild.

A hand to hold, a mouth that smiles.
He sits there thinking for a while.
Each piece of wood he cuts away,
one step further from that day.

Strings attached to arms head and back,
the image perfect only a soul he lacks.
He looks at his puppet and sheds a tear,
if only he had a real boy here.

No Fairy Godmother to hear his plea.
A dream unfullfilled will never be.
A carved puppet with little button nose,
perfectly formed fingers and little toes.

He looks at the puppet hangs him high.
Takes a deep breath wipes his eyes.
All his hopes cut away with a knife.
Cancer took the dream from him and his wife.

Debbie Guzzi's 
Dream On Contest

July 24th, 2013

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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If Not Tomorrow

What is to come
if not tomorrow,
when all is left is
no time to borrow

Moments remain still
nothing else matters,
seconds stop ticking
and yesterday shatters

Was today really lived
even any memory made,
as mundane and routine
overshadow and fade

Death only comes
when we never live,
dwelling on pain
all becoming negative

Throwing away hours
and wasting a minute,
the time of your life
is surely not infinite

Live relentlessly until
the last breath is taken,
dream on and on again
until illusion is shaken

Be left with memories
not regret or sorrow,
in time for today
if not tomorrow.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2018

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Inexorable Want

Inexorable Want

How do I find
These sentences 
Written as they are
In ephemeral ink
Indelible lines
Inscribed in my being 

Spectral yearnings

It crashes me
To rocks
In unanswerable waves
Swimming tidal
To the inexorable
The implacable distance
Confounds me

Longing vent me no more
In twists and turns
And unmade beds
Where crumpled kisses
Dream on hot soaked cushions 
Leave me not
To the ever restless
Quiet unheard of whisperings
Of her name

How do I find
The collective alphabetic
Of love unknown
Divulged by these
The screeching banshees 
Of petal falling
Corpuscle red
They flow through my blood
And so desperate

How do they find me
On such a precarious brink
With the voltage
And permission of electricity
Rapine in all my singularity
Hurricane she batters at me
For all my will to resist
I am

I cannot

Help me please
Lest I drown dark
Brooding in forever’s need
She is my quiet
And ever sun set calmed
And I
I am a tempest
Left to bellow and blow
Inside an hour glass
In the confines of my soul

Help me please
Save me from this void ripping
As she shreds every day
Every hour
With my unrequited returning
To her arms

Save me

For I have found
My life
My soul companion
So far from me
On some so strange a horizon
That the distance
Between us
Could prove to be

Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009

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Punctuated in Time

Cant lift my eyes beyond half past seven anymore
Nay! I do not wish to see...
Past hyphens and inverted commas
Lies and more catastrophe

Ambidextrous clock with appalling brevity
The second hand throws away society
Caught on the hook of an apostrophe
Hit and run humanity

With what shall I beseech thee?
Amix with soot and grime am I today
I painted me....!  I mascara'd me!
Not this... warpaint for smudges
A discard of society

Sunk in dank mediocrity
Left to dream on the periphery
Sacked and sold with all their niceties
And pensioned off into obscurity

Cascading through the fingers of our hands
Groans the running Namib sands
Camel plods along ignoring facts
Dali's clock is molten wax - a mystery

Certain as Terrabyte and Megabitten memory
Omits to call- forgets to visit me

Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2016

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Elusive Dreams

Outside my window,
the leaves are in a frenzy~
twirling, shaking and flying about 
the wind just sending them off
in a scattered dance...
so similar to the
chaotic in my mind

Sleep comes around,
but the dreams do not.

Or do they?
And I've forgotten them yet again.

They are but fleeting wisps for me...
iridescent ribbons of subconsciousness
winding through me, 
then eluding me

When I try to touch them,
my fingers ripple through a smoky haze
So real to me, yet intangible

Sometimes I wonder
whether I could pour something
over these dreams,
Splash! And they crackle,
crystallizing them, finally captured
Smooth, sharp, tangible

and then I change my mind,
since it doesn't feel right...

Like caging something
to admire its beauty

Somehow, even the word dream
seems so ethereal to me,
they are but soft whispers
weaving through my slumbering self

My dreams, 
they have a voice
so melodic, yet incomparable
so beautiful, yet unrecoverable

My dreams,
they come in color
so alive, yet muted
so alive, yet unreal

My head touches the pillow,
and I sink into slumber,
a myriad of thoughts finally settling down,
as undulating curls of dreams rise up around me

Come to think of it,
this creates for me such a
fascinating image...

Myself enveloped in darkness,
with wispy colorful ribbons
floating by all around me
as I dream on...
a quick reprieve from reality


Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011

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Watermelon Summer

That was the summer...
Of watermelon fields, and hot, humid days
Of suntanned traces, and mosquito-bit faces
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned
Of running down a country road
Bare feet on hot asphalt
Criss-crossing across an open field
Helping ourselves
To thick pink crimson chunks
That melted cool on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins
Leaving the best part
The black bullet seeds
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wind
Against the dusty ground
Against each other
And when the ammunition was spent
A pillowed head, among the vines
To dream on clouds that whispered by
In the blue afternoon sky
That watermelon summer

For Skat's Contest: Summer

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

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Hear My Sweet Dreams

Hear My Sweet Dreams

Hold your dreams tight!
In your sight then
Each night sleep there.

Dream on with glee!
You hold me thus
Lets be with care.

Under pale blue moon
Love blooms soon show
in rooms quite fair.

Velvet touch spreads!
On soft beds slept
Love weds our pair.

I think your kiss
Each I miss now
A remised share.

Hear my sweet dreams
We ride streams down
Fire steams our pair!

Robert J. Lindley, 3-07-2016 

Not For Contest. 
Added end rhyme as a bonus.....third verse each stanza..
there, care, fair, pair, share, pair .
POETRY FORM- Than-Bauk, 4 syllables per verse, 3 verses per poem.
I wrote mine as a double--never like to be restrained or told to follow limiting rules.
Thus this one is ineligible for the contest I wrote it for.
No disrespect but too bad the sponsor decided they did not want to read longer poems. -Tyr


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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The Interview - for Contest

This situation has no basis in reality; in fact, it is ludicrously unreal. However, the likes and dislikes shown of its author are completely true!

Scene: A comfortable office where Andrea Dietrich is finishing up with one of many interviews looking for Mr. Right: Jotting down notes, Andrea looks up to ask another question of her “suitor.”

Andrea: You have told me you enjoy your work and so far, I see several things we have in common. So tell me, Felix, how do you like to live? I mean, how do you manage your house with such a tight schedule?

Felix:  I love a tidy house. I’m so clean and organized, in fact, that I feel uncomfortable when I am not  strictly adhering to my daily routines. 

Andrea (with her  smile suddenly disappearing from her face.) Oh, how nice for you! Well, ok, it was a pleasure meeting you. I need to speak to my next interviewee.

(Andrea’s secretary calls in the next possible candidate for Mr. Right. He is rather slender, slightly muscular, with dark hair tinged with gray, nice eyes, an engaging smile and a rather large nose, reminding Andrea of the actor, Adrian Brody. She hopes she does not seem to be ogling him, but her curiosity is very aroused, for this is her type: someone not too extremely handsome but with an interesting look that sets him apart from the crowd. Her once flagging excitement in the whole interviewing process has suddenly been revived!)

Adam:  Hello, Ms. Dietrich. My name is Adam. May I call you Andrea? (Andrea nods her head, pleased by this man’s seeming confidence and his ease in introducing himself to her) I’ve been looking forward to this interview since hearing that you were on the dating scene again. 

Andrea: Nice to meet you, Adam. I love that name! You seem to already know me. Have we met before? 

Adam:  Not really. I am a poet at another website. My friend at Soup told me about your blog where you were asking to interview men for a love match! A most interesting idea. I just had to check it out because I saw your bio and your pictures and was instantly attracted.

Andrea (feeling a bit embarrassed by the flattery and touching her hair nervously) I am a little older than my avatar shows me to be. I hope you are not disappointed.

Adam: Of course not! You are a beautiful woman and coincidentally, we are about the same age.  (Andrea smiles, thinking to herself how young Adam seems. Adam continues speaking)  I was able to track down information about you on Google, view  other pictures of you and read your poetry. I started with your first page when you joined PoetrySoup and have read all those poems. . . 

Andrea (interrupting him) Are you kidding me? There are so many on that first page..

Adam: I find that the best way to know a woman’s heart is to read what she writes. I intend to read many more of your poems! I thought it would be fun to start at the beginning of yours.

Andrea: Gosh, that is hardly my beginning in 2010, but that year WAS very special for me, starting at PoetrySoup. May I ask which poems of mine you liked best on that page?

(Adam proceeds to name five poems that are also her own favorites on that page! When she asks him what he liked about them, she can tell that he truly read them.)

Andrea:  I’m impressed that you took so much time to read my works. I would like to read yours as well. 

(Adam tells Andrea about his own poetry and she discovers that he too is interested in different poetry forms as well as dabbling in free verse. One more thing they have in common! )

Andrea:  Well, I want to hear a lot more about you. Tell me. . . 
(Andrea now asks Adam many questions. She discovers that like herself, he is not afraid to do things by himself. He enjoys bargain hunting, traveling and learning about other cultures and seeing movies, but not always just the standard Hollywood fare. He even enjoys exercise at the gym and is a teacher like herself, but not just any teacher. He is a professor of linguistics at a prestigious university and his home is located near a beautiful beach. He has taste similar to hers in music, books, food, and even in the types of pets he enjoys having. Not to mention, he is looking for a partner to stroll on the beach with him holding hands, to cuddle by a fire with, and to talk with late into the night.)

Andrea (feeling flushed with excitement) By the way, Adam, may I ask you how you keep your house? I mean, is  spotlessness important to you? Or are you a bit of an “Oscar” like on the Odd Couple?

Adam: I have to be honest. I am not fond of housework. Neither do I expect a potential partner of mine to do it all either. I believe in sharing responsibilities, but I must confess, and I hope this is not a deal breaker,  I’m a bit of a clutter bug!

Andrea (with her mouth turning up in a huge grin) Oh my. So am I!  How would two little clutter bugs work out together, do you think?

Adam: Not to worry, my dear. I have saved up a nice little nest egg in my years at the university. These days I can afford a housekeeper, and with retirement around the corner, I am searching for my soul mate, someone who wants to share a life of travel with me in my golden years, and also a life of fun at home. We can visit our grandkids, go out to dinner every week, go to shows and discuss our poetry together. I just really want someone to share my life with. 

(Andrea is wondering if she is in a dream as she pinches herself to be sure. Her jaw has dropped, and she senses she might be starting to drool, thinking of having possibly found her Mr. Right, not to mention, a home by the beach. OH MY!)

Moral:  The way to the heart of a poetess begins through her poetry. 
Alternate Moral: Dream on!

Written June 18, 2015 by Andrea Dietrich for the Interview Contest of Judy Konos

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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We Can Dream On

It used to be that many dreamed. At least that is the way it seemed. But that was more than a few years ago now. A good life in which we all starred; a house with fence around the yard: The dream which the hard-working man could strive for. . . Chorus: We can dream on; we can dream on. We can dream on; we can dream on. We only had to go to school, Be sure to follow every rule, like paying toward our own security plan with special taxes all must pay. They rise; we pay them anyway, believing we’ll get by in our great gold years Chorus: We can dream on; we can dream on. . . In years when wars were being fought, The dream, still strong, was being sought, by Veterans returning to their loved ones. Prosperity came after war, for everyone kept wanting more, so things improved, at least as I recall them. . . Chorus: We can dream on; we can dream on. . . The kids who went to college would then graduate and as they should, could work in their profession, raise their families. Eventually they’d have a house and growing older with their spouse, look forward to retirement, their home paid for. . . Chorus: We can dream on; we can dream on. . . Retirement funds in just one year ran dry and CEO’s, I hear, got bonuses while laying off their workers. Young graduates cannot find work and horrors round each corner lurk for those who lose their jobs and source of income. Chorus: We can dream on; we can dream on. . . Today we have to buckle down and try hard not to show a frown while searching for a job that pays less money while politicians talk their talk but don’t know how to walk the walk, and sit there making sure they get their raises! Chorus: We can dream on; we can dream on. . . The Congress just keeps playing dumb And half the country has gone numb while stressing over what’s in store for us now because of lies that we were told, like how we’d live when we got old. “Dream on” I say (but not in Mama’s same tone). Chorus: We can dream ON; We can dream ON. . . For the HALLELUJAH Contest of Frank H.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Watching You Dream

Soft flame flutters gently before surrendering to darkness wealth of golden glow. Your mind has been captured by dreams, pirates of the imagination controlling your activity. Crescent of gray light fades through the arch windows; you become spotlight bright! I study your eyes as they dash through never-ever real land. Are you racing, trying to catch the runaway unicorn? Steady, boy, this is your fantasy; let the legend come to you. Garnish him with a crimson saddle, canter across hills of sweet poppies. Your yellow-brick road need not bear lions, unless you wish to be their king -- color-splashed vision, enhanced by your chestnut mane. You roll; our waterbed rolls wave-like with you. lions and unicorns dwell not within the sea; they vanish, creating a tiny subconscious wrinkle of memory. Your fingers tighten, clinging to your raft, tossed by the tides and waves. Pan flutes from the bank's hanging cliff -- turbulence subsides; you float smoothly o’er open sea. So you mellow your mood, follow your eyes up, up, it glares but does not burn. Sun cannot hurt a dreamer’s eyes unless you let it. Stare as it slowly sinks to a spectral sunset that becomes a rainbow -- because you see it that way! Your raft is now a craft, thirty feet, steel-plated, sprouting rings of purple smoke and wings of green feathers. Your chariot, my lean and softly-lit friend, chases the sun across the sky to find your pot of gold, when the soft flame flutters gently before surrendering to darkness.
*Entry for the "Dream On" Contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

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My eyes grow heavy,
Yet I can't sleep,
My soul feels weighted,
But I can't weep

I dream on
Without the hope I need
I need to talk
Yet my tongue's not freed

I clutch my pillow,
I cling to the thought
Of how we met,
And why we fought

It all seems so silly now,
And I wonder why
We could let this stand
And let love die

Pure "saving face"
Holds me back,
Especially since
Your verbal attack

Being a person,
No easy thing,
You've left your nest
And the protection of
Your mother's wing

Should i call?
Or hold out?
Be the weak one?
Or stand and shout?

Oh, Lord, please guide me
Let me know
The way to be...

I roll over in bed again,
And turn on the light,
But light doesn't help.
I have no sight...

Indecision means inaction
I start to groan,
To lose your love,
A fear greatly grown

Turn off the light,
Again to bed
In many ways,
Wishing I was dead.

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008

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Mother and I

Mother shares all, sacrificing 'til barren.

She and I are one, united in breath and dust,
the atoms and spirits spinning, fragments of failures,
curiosity and constraint... I was tempted in the orchard.
I was cold in the desert. I felt abandoned...

Dreams are feathers fleeing on wings.
Birds of Paradise in the mind's eye...

Destitute yesterday, fruitful tomorrow.
Decadence is a disease. No one is healthy.
We are changing, dying from birth to grave,
I hold onto the internal, eternal while I ramble on and on...
Mother, are you listening?

I live in a trench of contentment, sheltered 
in my little world of sun and shadow, small
in my birthplace, blaming and forgiving,
striving and settling...digging my hands in the dirt.

Mother, you are the daisy, dainty and demure,
fair to the admiring eye, silent like the sunrise.
I pick daisies from your garden and pluck the petals hoping for love.
I may never know...

Mother, you are the redwood, strong and mature,
praising golden sky, healing and wise.
I climb your branches and gather leaves for the wind's scrapbook.
A lifelong search...

Mother, who are you? Who am I?
We are the distant stars.
We are the rivers nigh.
the daisy and redwood live;
we are earth, water, sky, life and death.
A dream on wings, laboring land,
A prayer on bended knee,
we dance, swim, fly, stand tall.
I call her friend...

Mother shares all, giver and taker of life 'til the end.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012

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Beyond the Looking Glass

~*~ Close your eyes To your surprise Wake up never recognized.. Time beyond the looking glass Nonchalantly travels past Without a single question asked.. Judgmental eyes stare in vain A victim of a curious brain Begin at the beginning then start again.. Like falling down a rabbit hole With no control Inquisitiveness starts to take its toll.. Smiling felines and parties with tea Shedding enough tears to fill a sea Back to the door without a key.. Big and small and big again Decks of cards march like men Remorseful innocence not knowing where or when.. Painted red roses lined up in a bed Screams from a sovereign "Off with her head" Once ticking hands abruptly stop dead.. Have I gone crazy? Am I insane? “Curiouser and curiouser!” Again and again........ ~*~
For..Dream On Free Poetry Contest Details Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © Tracie Edwards | Year Posted 2013

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The laughing moon

It's here now under a converted sky
Where daylight has loss it’s might
Hours before the green hills had sight, with 
splattered  hints of yellow wild flowers so bright
Now time has casts a different light
It here now where the heavens sings an evening song 
With twinkled lights on a moon lit prong
Dancing stars and dreaming of mars 
Its here on this transformed spot 
I will sit and jot

It is here now as I lay back on this cool grass, and write a story 
with the heavens the color of quarry
Of jeweled eyes in the skies 
that connected to stories, some disguised 
With silver spoons and astrological loons
On dream away, dream on by
to the earths motions and lullabies
It is here now time to take a brake
from life’s work ,and worries and heart ache 
Try it yourself remember when, you were a child
when you looked up the night and smiled amen


Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2008

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                                Friendship is a priceless gift
                                that cannot be bought or sold
                                  for it`s value, is far greater than 
                                    a mountain made of gold.

                                      For gold is cold and lifeless
                                       it can neither see nor hear
                                         and in time of trouble
                                          tis powerless to cheer

                                            It has no ears to listen
                                             no heart to understand
                                               it cannot bring you comfort
                                                nor reach out a helping hand

                                                  So when you ask God for a gift
                                                    be thanKful if he sends, not
                                                      diamonds,pearls or riches
                                                        but the love of real true friends

A  material scroll from my best friend from Jamaica..   Thanks Dave 


Debbie Guzzi

Contest Name

Dream On

Copyright © Paul Beadnall | Year Posted 2011

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Serene Shores

-3/7/14 and 5/2/14-
The waves of the sea and the screeching of the seagulls 
Mix together like coffee and cream
I feel like I’m livin’ a dream
I walk barefoot on the warm, warm sand
I don’t really understand
Why you lay a hand on me…
Is it because I’m as mournful as the sea
Or is it because I’m the waves that swivel and dive down in ecstasy?
I don’t quite understand
The reason I feel the city’s pressure and hardness
They are cemented in the abyss

Serene Shores…
Sails in silhouetted slumber
Serene Shores…
Falls into flamboyant floors
Serene Shores 
Guides me gently, giving me grand advice – 

The sound of honking is heard unexpectedly… the sound emitting out of the car
It was so uncalled for! It was going way too far!
I feel like drifting away in a deep sleep, carelessly hitting the seafloor…but I’m wide awake instead
I would like to lie lifelessly and tranquilly…I ascend from the water’s surface in disappointment – where’s my head?
I can’t completely comprehend
Why I am more in tune with nature – it could mend
A shattered soul…
A torn, forlorn heart…
Like my own

Serene Shores…
Sails in silhouetted slumber
Serene Shores…
Flaps its fantastic wings, favoring the light of freedom!
Sadistic Shores 
Pushes me forwardly persistently, poking at me pessimistically– 

I ponder about the future and its many mysteries
There are clues in the surface of the ocean
I’m too busy trying to pick them up as I go…I wonder about the meaning of the past memories
I squander my time, getting caught up in bittersweet emotion

Copyright © J.W. Earnings | Year Posted 2014

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Sista Dream On

I dream of time quite long ago, when Christmas always meant some snow. I dream of time before my birth, when love had preference on this Earth. I dream of time when innocent days, saved people from some ugly ways. I dream of time when air was pure. Life was free safe and secure. I dream a time when wrong’s not right. Honor and truth win the fight. I dream a time for everyone, when there’ll be peace beneath the sun.

Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2016

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Warm summer night

Warm summer night Soft as the mist of an apricot evening Floating like stars on a daffodil sky Falling in love as the moon slowly wanders Watching the glow of a sprite firefly Standing in shadows so no one will see us Holding you close in my arms oh so tight Kissing your lips as the twilight does whisper Sharing this dream on a warm summer night Good night Soupers

Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017

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Wars of Difference and Different Wars

Dream on man
War is constant
It has gone beyond
Catholic or Protestant

Religious wars
From our short lived past
Will never dilute
As long as we last

In this modern world
We fight for different reasons
What ever the excuse
And in any season

We fight over land
Imaginary WMD
Even over soccer
How the hell can that be

We now fight over oil
In a camouflaged war
Taking innocents with us
In public deplore

Guerrilla, assault
Bombing with precision 
We vote them in
As they twist their decisions

Dream on man
War has changed
Greed has taken over
From the pasts deranged

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

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Trapped in a Nightmare

A peaceful dream on a cool cold night
Protection from fears and unwanted fright
Waking nightmares cast away
And happy dreams as clear as day
But what happens when there is no protection
And there's no shelter to hide
These unjust rules need be broken
Just for us to survive
Where has the peace gone
We are all in danger here
I can smell the blood
I know now death is near
Will I ever wake from this dream
The dream thats torn me in two
Someone help guide me back
Because I haven't got a clue
No friends to help me out
No helping hands to lend
My fears are all here
When will this pain end
Tradegy has struck my soul
Why can't I just wake up
I'm getting weaker from the pain
I fear that I am stuck
Trapped in a world 
Of nightmares and pain
I think that I've lost
This unreal game
This peaceful dream no longer clear
I love my life, I'm still here
In a dreaded dream holding on by a single thread
I won't give up. It's all in my head

Copyright © Kelly Fielder | Year Posted 2006

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The Mountain

Here Heaven lay a blanket to mask its starteling truth from the world,
A blue majestic ocean to float high above the earth,
God said, Angels lay your head upon the pillows soft of white,
Clouds to sleep and dream on, through the day or in the night,
Towering mountain, reaching to try to touch the relm and leave this world,
Green with grass and brown like brass a mix of beauty so sure, 
Painted by the hand, with a brush made of the tips of angels wings,
A picture of beauty, more radiant then jupiters rings,
Colarado air, fresh with spring light,
For Norad mountain is my destination, my delight.

(Note: First poem I've written in months)

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

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Basketball Brain

Imagine if I possessed stunning good looks Along with an adorable personality I'd have to beat the ladies off with a stick Love it if this was suddenly reality Hollywood would continually be bugging me To make millions from my glorious kisser Certainly be renowned the whole world over But dear Cathie, I'd surely miss her I'd send for her as soon as I bought a mansion Overlooking the beautiful blue sea Would say farewell to my bevy of beauties So honoured to have had a piece of me This new cyber world allows for such musing I could actually be of the opposite sex Now I've really got you wondering haven't I So you never know what to expect Well I must confess I'm a ten year old genius With a brain the size of a basketball Eat gigabytes of data, morning, noon and night And spit out gobs of wisdom to all Imagine if I possessed stunning good looks Dream on you old geezer, dream on A major overhaul would certainly be necessary And I don't think you've got that long © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

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Love and math

Intangible darkness under the 
moonlight- another night 
My lonely my soul. 
Among the whispers of the 
i shivered cold- 
yearning for your multiple 
affection- undivided- additionally 
I need you
We're a fraction-
a part of me is still dying over 
Yet again my eyes further rain 
and submerge you further 
in my thoughts.
I'm saturated by your attributed
sadness that's oozing through
the cracks of my heart.     

I wish your arms were her to 
me from the pit of my pain.
Every dream on my pillow 
got the echoes of your name.

Copyright © Adrian Robinson | Year Posted 2014

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A Fond Memory

A dream on my mind.
A far distant memory.
A smile on my lips.

Copyright © Crystal Keehn | Year Posted 2015