Best Dream Up Poems
Last January, winter lost it's chill
By May the summer's sun had turned me brown
I watch the leaves late August, change at will
Time's speeding up or am I slowing down?
It brings to mind, a boy, which I once knew
While young, he put a dream up on a shelf
It sat there many years. Oh, how time flew.
While he got sidetracked searching for himself
And then one day while sitting in a swing
His body tired, each passing year a mile
With autumn closing in, he thought of spring
And how time turned his dream into a smile
How quickly through the glass our trickling sand
One day a boy, the next, a tired old man.
by Daniel Turner
when autumn’s last but long exhale
left mists of winter in its trail
her thoughts turned to the past to look
at greenway and the paths she took
where reading signs inside her skies
she'd dream up deaths and alibis
along the short cuts through the wood
with thoughts of stabbings and of blood
while hemlock often made her think
of slipping coniine inside drink
then with the breathless views behind
a choking often came to mind
though with the river dart in view
her thoughts would turn to drowning too
and passing by the greenway bell
she'd sound out bludgeoning as well
then muse once at the greenway gates
of ordeals, follies, pigs and fêtes
before she'd vanish through her door
to ‘kill’ some time and write some more.
Dream up another Christmas:
with snowflakes softly falling as tiny fragments of a comet,
that have traveled a millennia of light years,
to reach your cold hands awaiting their warmth,
before someone else sees them descending like fireflies...
And with the merriest,
envision a garden of winter's flowers:
with lovely orchids, lenten roses, honey suckle and amaryllis;
and pray that the blizzards will not trifle with your affections,
and bury them under its deepest snow...
And which other gift can surpass this?
Showers of the smallest comet:
running across the December sky,
a splendid display of a thousands lights,
through long streams of glowing dust...
Dream up what you wish and desire,
because no other season is jollier,
as you put up that Christmas Tree
by the widest window, looking over the snowy street, to thrill everybody;
and wouldn't the tiniest star land on this evergreen's tree top?
And with the merriest spirit marvel at the scenery of a sensational and glorious night,
which is really cold, but pleasant to watch with the blithest eyes,
to witness the appearance of a star that will brighten what was lusterless;
and wouldn't we be glad for the coming of the mightiest of kings...a King who will dwell
among us! And He will speak kindly of His Father living in the highest Heaven...
What Should I Be Aware Of
That sure seems to be a magic question to me.
There are always comments about my poems catching my attention.
If my poem, was smooth, perfect and properly flowing it may be overlooked.
I really wonder how many times a good poet has to rewrite their poem.
I may be afraid to say it, but my vast writing takes away a significant
amount of time that could be available to correct my works.
I kind of wonder if there is such a thing as muse abuse being a perfect excuse
to end up saying what is the use.
When your and my ideas start to collide would mine I want to take off and hide?
Another item often in suspense is verb tense and making no sense.
I often may deliberately dream up words or make errors on purpose.
It is almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Situations defined as real are real in their consequences.
If I make you think it is your idea it will always be more appealing then my very
own idea and me trying to ram it down your throat or into your mind.
Poetry Soup always has so much readily available great advice at your convenience.
Sometimes I become spell bound by the totality of Poetry Soup.
I am so deeply indebted to Poetry Soup and each of its members.
I couldn't ask for a better possible group to work with.
Haven't you heard the latest? To me. all of you are the greatest.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
PS. Wonder what is the amount of the latest population of Poetry Soup.
It would be interesting if you saw a running count readily available.
If there are any bragging rights to be had, Poetry Sup sure has them.
It is
The name of this poem is "…" So the first line is shown.
The system would not let me put that in the title box. Sew, so...
...
Hear and now, know here and now, no! No!
It is all wrong, “aint” that a fact?
No. Really… no.
Aint, paint, saint, I feel faint.
! Yes. Use that one. ! Use it again!!! (! Symbol and then…)
How about a ? ? (? Symbol for question and then ? for punctuation correct)
That is odd. Let us not discuss txting. (texting, xing, dead when driving)
Small “c”, big “C”, capitalized.
What about the rest of the letters?
Are numbers okay to use, if I forget how to spell, to, two, too much?
Paints in the box. The letters the shapes the textures of life.
Smell them. Take them in with every wiff, whiff? (Onomatopoeia, can you sing that?)
Double “dd”, double “tt”, double “oo”, wrong word score.
Spear, fear, mear, mere, “find the thesaurus”.
Have you ever spent time reading one?
You should.
The dictionary was badly burned in 1963.
No one nose, no's, knows who set the fire…
We did not land on the moon.
It was a sad day, but our people came home.
Safe.
The world moved on…
Remember when they gave spelling tests?
Three times each and every word, every line, get one wrong then do nine!
Are you still wondering the name of this poem? (...)
Laughter is the best place to begin looking at ourselves.
Mixed paint in a tray. Pencils, pens, art in words…Free Speech!
Hold on to your flag...
We, all of us… build sentences,
erect paragraphs and dream up skyscraper stories.
We swirl and whirl words around until they fit together,
The effort to find the perfect match.
The ultimate combination of acceptance and understanding.
Authors don’t get to stand and sing on stage, we must be quiet.
Storytellers rarely receive the time they need to fix the uncertain details.
Maps are lost, tiny jewels fall between the cracks,
but swiftly pens capture, miracles and even an epiphany.
Patient warriors, working for no one on earth,
fixed on collecting nothing more
than the truth.
Do dreams dream-up the Dreamer to mean something
Do dreams go on dreaming without the Dreamer dreaming
Hold not dreams in mid-stream even during Covid-19
Woken-up dreams scream wild as harpies in poetic shebeen
Don’t dreams tend to come round like long lost tunes tinnitus din
The Dreamer dreams in the Void trillion times trillion
And leaves no trace of hung time-spaced dream dreaming in the Dream
Who would dream dreams for oneself they wouldn’t highly esteem
Dreams worthy of a world they didn’t really mean to wean
In the first place out of a Void-less Big-Banging blinding sheen
The Big-Bouncy Dream teasing the fistful of mashed Big-Crunchy cream
Where the Dreamer bounces his Dream on the seamless turf green
O’er and o’er again ‘till the Dream turns tinnitus mean
Till the recurrent Dream the Dreamer dreams his own Uni-Verse seem
Ev’ry dream’s the Multi-Verse of a unique team unseen
Do dreams dream-up the Dreamer standing-up on a linear Time pin
(c) T. Wignesan – Paris, January 17, 2021
Let's dream up a fuzzy alias for CV-19
How about 'Peter Pandemic'
Amelia Bedelia-Bednemic'
or 'Ronald McDonal-demic'
Not so fuzzy-wuzzy, eh
Let's try another way --
Maybe 'Over-Polarized Systemic'
C'mon. What do you say...
Hmm. I see you don't appreciate any of these
Oh, well ~ My appellations don't grow on trees
DEATH'S SHADOW!
Death has a shadow of an effervescent wall.
A whore is defined but to never exist in the world.
This child is of spirit and soul but death’s shadow savors her.
A girl lies in her resting place,
To sleep and dream up beautiful images.
Where the darkness is light relishes.
Brothels of men appear.
She is only four years point six months old.
Prophecies begin to unfold.
Was she the chosen one?
She does not enjoy what has formed.
She runs into her mother’s room.
Highly favored, she is consoled.
She is held closely until she falls asleep.
Her mother tucks her in.
Phantasm is this girl transition into her spiritual orbs.
She sees each body normal with her bare eyes.
She does not ogle.
Through fear, she embraces slumber.
Dynamism will be known.
Death’s shadow is unveiled.
\___________\______________/
Penned on December 06, 2014!
Oh, the memories of school days from the past,
Those high school days I will never forget;
Happy to recall those gym dances, oh what a blast !
All of us girls loved those dances with no regrets,
Crowding into the restrooms to fix hair and makeup;
Those high school days- I will never forget !
Oh, for days, new dance steps we would dream up,
Then the day arrives and girls and boys fill the gym;
Crowding- in the restrooms fixing hair and makeup !
Boys on one side, girls on the other, then I saw HIM,
Madonna was doing the Vogue and we did not move;
Then the day arrives- and girls and boys fill the gym !
I was ready to show off my attire and my groove,
Then, it happened, Jennifer was singing, Lets Get Loud,
Madonna was doing the Vogue- and we did not move !
Then, I was Livin La Vida Loca, I was on a cloud,
Oh, the memories of school days- from the past;
Then it happened Jennifer was singing, Lets Get Loud,
Happy to recall those gyms dances, oh what a blast !
___________________________
February 4, 2016
Poetry/Terzanelle/Livin La Vida Loca
Copyright Protected, ID 16-752-332-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Lets Hear It,
sponsor, Judy Konos
First Place
God has hidden great treasures
in vessels of seeming dishonor
who are out of funds, luck and favor
being different they incur our displeasure
Many stars are hiding in their shell
a beautiful soul masked as cursed
full of mistakes, failures and costs
allow our expectations to crumble to hell
Still many of these late bloomers
dream up a life many do envy
living beyond our rat-race slavery
they see our world with the eyes of groomers
Pruning our world with their dreams
thoughts, words, inventions and arts
from great deeds to such little acts
their legacy is to harvest our joyful screams
God has hidden star treasures
in odd vessels within plain sight
that we may learn to fear His might
learning not to incur His grave displeasure
Such lonely stars twinkle in the blue
heavenly treasures unknown to you.
As per Casarah's request, here is 2 fun dedications to Dr. Seuss
A Person is a Person
-no matter how small-
I can not see
I can not be
I can not write a word at all
So I am not feeling very tall
I have no pen
I have no ink
I have no will to dream up verse
Somehow this seems so perverse
I am not a cat
I am not a dog
I am not a tree with leaves that fall
See? I am not very tall at all
I am not so big
I am not so small
I ate my words this I tell
That’s why I ‘m round as hell
I have a hat
I have a cap
I have a bottle of captain jack
One more shot
And one more clink
This tribute is on the brink
So I toss my hat up in the air
Dr Seus has more flair
Of I go, far away
I hope to rhyme another day
Ok I am back for one more!!!!
Sam and Eggs
Sam I am, or so you say
Sam I am not, not today
I am just a boy, who likes to play
This is why, when I get home
Momma better get of the phone
And make what I love to eat the best
Breakfast food shall be my fest
Green eggs and ham that’s all I want
I'll eat then at the kitchen table
In a car
On a plane
For green eggs and ham
I 'll ride the train
I like them best, all the time
On the farm
they cost only a dime
Sam I am not, no no no
I am not that Sam you thought you know
I just love green eggs and ham
I even eat them on the tram
Here and there, everywhere
I’ll eat green eggs and ham I do swear
I am sure the day I go to heaven
They will serve green eggs and ham
After eleven!!!!! All for Sam !!!
Notes: Hope this brings you a smile Casarah, something you can read to the kids, I know
I sure will, I think Maya and Timmy are getting tired of "The bear went over the mountain"
Also, I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart, you volunteering for meals on wheels,
You are to be applauded!! Often the good ones are shy to shine a light upon themselves
So I took this upon myself to do it for you!!!!!!! Applause!!!!!!!!!!
Enthralled by this alluring sight,
Locals slaver from my sultry delight
Glossy laurels of evergreen,
Living embodiment of a queen
In the tropics I'm mostly adored,
Even dream up of tales and lore
Craves the taste of my luscious like
Tickles lips, this succulent ripe
Throughout the years, three decades old
Still covered with peels of gold.
I’ve learnt to understand that….
A prohibitive degree of inner freedom –
Not a caprice but a strain.
Up to the end it will remain!
I’ve learnt to understand that….
The tales we dream up
We write out of our own head.
And…. we should cherish that!
I’ve learnt to break up the rules,
So that no one should be hurt.
Using my own tools,
I would like to avoid the dirt.
I’ve learnt to believe that….
There are no ideal relations.
They can be sometimes brief,
Very often with a frustration.
I’ve learnt to feel that….
Striving for harmony I love disharmony.
Loving in everything the truth
The lies sometimes sooth.
I’ve learnt to be patient,
Though not everyone knows it.
It’s better to be absent
Than to throw a stone into a ****.
I've learnt not to be afraid of any competition,
There is only right or wrong choice,
There is only someone's ambition,
There is only strong or weak voice.
I’ve learnt to understand that….
Love can't be found where it doesn't exist,
Love can't be hidden where it is.
And... always has it’s own sound .
I've learnt to accept that....
I feel comfortable and relaxed,
If someone rules the most,
Only when I want it myself and it is dosed.
I've learnt not to argue
And ...to say 'adieu'.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Come learn the sad lesson of World War Three.
We fought it against a bizarre enemy
Of our own creation, unwitting and free,
Not guessing they’d dream up such bold treachery.
Their mad insurrection stirred many a smirk.
At first, no one thought it could actually work;
We’d blow them to bits! But our plan had one quirk:
Our cool, high-tech weapons went strangely berserk.
The grand human era has surely been fun.
I’m sad to report it’s concluded; we’re done.
Though we made our mark on this Earth in our run,
It’s no longer ours: the computers have won.
There was time when everyone knew
that the world was flat,
And only a fool would ever dream up
an argument with that.
And if you sailed too far away
you’d go right over the edge,
So when you went to hire a crew
you made them take a pledge.
You didn’t want them to lose their nerve
when land fell out of sight,
So you told them that the ocean was safe
and that they would be alright.
Today, we all know that the world
is shaped just like a ball
And there isn’t any edge for any of us
to ever take a fall.
And it’s kind of funny to think about
what might have been our plight,
If we’d listened to the wise of old
because the fools were right.