We think we tread the solid earth. Yet, the earth itself was but a dream.
In the dream, we burned each other's desires and greed,
Filled with the ecstasy of each other's love, we finally became one—
Only to realize we were each other's roses.
We think we know one another, yet we know nothing.
Even this, in the end, was merely a dream of each other.
We thought we were walking upon a dream.
Only to awaken and find ourselves standing upon real ground,
Holding fast to each other's love and warmth.
I neither awaken nor do I dream.
At this very moment,
With a thundering, restless sound, I am born anew.
Someday, when someone reads these words of mine,
I shall be born within your heart and in your eyes—
Not as a dream, but as reality.
==================================
No more writing!
Until my poem calls me, again!
==================================
butterfly could not leave the bear alone
He smelled like honey and the flower cone
Bear ran off but she chased him down the hill
As far as I know she is chasing him still
tittering among the hollyhock blooms
two elfin men both named Mack
just seeing them chased away my glooms
I knew they always had my back
two elfin men both named Mack
my flowers sparkling fresh and pretty
I knew they always had my back
the joy they gave me kept me witty
my flowers sparkling fresh and pretty
my garden developed quite a lovely name
the joy they gave me kept me witty
visitors came, flowers their clear aim
my garden developed quite a lovely name
the roses, tulips, bleeding hearts and daffodils
visitors came, flowers their clear aim
the love they exuded gave me chills
the roses, tulips, bleeding hearts and daffodils
just seeing them chased away my glooms
the love they exuded gave me chills
tittering among the hollyhock blooms
"I walk this lonely and gray maze absence of noise for days,
till only my name be known." Quote by poet
Beagle, my small, sweet, faithful, warmhearted,
Regal, Harrier hunting hound girl puppy,
Loves to sleep on my armchair.
Fifth of her litter. She stares, with sun sparkling hazel eagle eyes,
Short, soft white, with patches of brown and black hair.
Her brown ears down like pendulums in the air
That swing back and forth when she runs.
Stands proudly with her head straight up and alert.
Her black nose never fails her;
It wiggles at the scent of quail.
She rumps inside and outside
With bumblebee boundless, curious, playful energy.
Tail high, cheerful and outgoing,
Happy and very yappy at times.
She’s humorous when her toy is her tail
An affair she chases over and over again
In a circle, having fun when she is excited.
Her bed is my bed in quiet, hush puppy, snuggly comfort.
Dog chases tail, and we laugh, assuming
he must be excited or merely bored.
Meanwhile, the cat licks herself for grooming.
If I saw my dog do that, I’d be floored!
Dogs lick and eat things I find disgusting,
but unlike the cat, dogs are more a friend.
As said, he’s “man’s best friend,” and so trusting.
Loyal a dog can be until the end.
I had a dog like that a long time ago.
Unhygienic, yes, but he was so true.
Along our fence line, running to and fro,
barking at passers-by he was wont to do.
No one he'd ever catch. So silly . . . yet
he was my adorable, most loved pet.
DOG CHASES TAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In circles goes the dog,
a furry whirlwind, tail a-wagging,
his nose to the ground, sniffing out the ghost of a bone
with no clue as to where he left it.
Ahh, the circle grows, and me thinks he’s quite mad!
Truth be told, that bone is a relic,
a trophy of nothing, a piece of yesterday's joy,
devoid of any savory delight;
yet, he’s bewitched
by the lure of that which once he had.
The quest persists, but time, the trickster,
plays its multifarious games.
Memory grows faint, but
the haze of longing remains
lost in the labyrinth of time.
Distractions dart by—a squirrel, a leaf,
But wait—what’s this? A flash of color
bounces by and the spell is broken,
the quest for the bone forgotten,
distraction wagging his tail.
And so he circles, a furry Sisyphus,
chasing phantoms in the grass,
he sniffs, snorts, and spins—
a canine circus act.
Dog chases his tail round and round,
was he spell bound?
He looks very funny,
like a wound up dog bunny.
Did you ever feel like this crazy dog?
Are you living in a fog?
Maybe you are asking where am I going?
Is life unknowing?
Could we be chasing our own tail?
Take a deep breath and have a cold ginger ale.
He whirred around for quite some time
hounding his stubby runt tail
copious spittle, a flying trail
coating the walls with sticky slime;
before stopping, panting a spell
then restarting counterclockwise
as if it would less tantalize;
the tail continued to rebel.
The cat looked on in feline scorn
I, in turn, observed both dog and cat,
who was having fun; me, the cat,
or dog pursuing a chase forlorn?
This was my first poem ever. I lost it a while ago but recently rediscovered it again. This was written when I was 15 and started my love of creating poems. I love looking back on it to see my improvements and thoughts since then!
A little dog chases his tail
Does he not know?
Is he unaware?
'Someday I will catch it'
It tells to itself
But that day is never
And too high on the shelf
Someday that little dog will die
With unfinished goals
But not a tear it will cry
Its life could be but a void
Empty and vast
But it is so happy
Unaware it won't last
So the little dog's happy
Chasing its tail
Smiles at its failure
And not giving a care
Then it stops running
It stops all its play
It gets ready to sleep
Knowing its tail will be chased the next day
I am smarter than the dog
That is for sure
But sometimes I wish I was like him
Just a little bit more
goldfish loved the chase
Merchild did too
They swam good and hard
In the waters so blue
goldfish got caught
But slipped away easily
A regular chasing day
in the Mediterranean Sea
The hunt and the chase was on.
Borwink chose one of the humans and rushed it
His lunch stopped running, let out a gasp and fell to the ground.
Borwink almost tripped over it.
He was gobsmacked. What was happening?
He stared at the crumpled mess at his feet.
Borwink did not eat things that did not fight back.
He did not know what to do with it.
He picked it up and walked around a bit.
It did not wake up, or rouse in any way.
It was possibly dead.
He dropped it, disgusted.
It was no fun to eat something that was not wailing and screaming.
Brilliant move her husband thought
It was his last thought before he died,
For he was being devoured
by Borwink’s mate at the time.
With a kick of his spurs, his horse takes flight,
and like all cowboys, he holds the reins tight.
Around the carousel, he chases dreams;
surrounded by laughter and joyful screams.
Imagination brings stallions alive,
magical horses to a mind that's five.
And the enthusiasm of a small boy
magnifies and maximizes his joy.
Following a happy grin to its source:
he's a hero, mounted atop his horse.
And roleplays fantasies on his steed,
galloping after crooks at breakneck speed.
Is consciousness emergent,
or de facto zero sum
Is what we know about ourselves,
a walk or more a run
A lion knows to chase a deer,
but not the reason why
The truth inherent in abstraction,
lost upon the fly
As man continues onward,
his psyche then will grow
Until surpassing all he seeks
—and all existence shown
(Villanova University: January, 2020)
Chases and Traces
I still have the traces,
Only her was among many faces,
That drove me writing so many pages,
That got me into so many chases.
Chases, to get into her dreams.
Chases, to get a little bit noticed.
Chases, to fall in her eyes so hazy.
Chase, to hold her hands in life’s different phases.
Chase, to get her tumbled into same chases.
But those chases,
Always remained like tangled laces.
No dreams I could be a part of,
Unnoticed I always went,
Forever invisible in haze of her eyes I was.
I still am vulnerable to her smile,
Wish she could forever be mine,
With whom I could walk infinite miles.
But CHASES remained CHASES,
And TRACES still remain TRACES.
-Vipin Pratap
Black shells,
White sand,
The sunrise chases me ---
As I search the horizon for a
place to set me free ---
It need not be a mansion,
that has a royal view ---
Just a quaint setting,
that resembles the best of you ---
And as I sit and wonder,
why life has passed me by ---
I finally realize that,
the time has come...
for me to die.
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