my mind's a plane that takes off slow
drifting where I don't even know
while teachers talk and clocks just tick
I'm floating past the classroom thick
I see colors no one else can see
places where I just want to be
a secret world inside my head
where nothing's boring, nothing's dead
sometimes it feels like I'm awake
but really, I'm on a daydream break
and in that space, I am free to roam
in a little world I call my own
on a sizzling august afternoon
the glitter on the water scintillates
tapdancing on a hot griddle
till a cool breeze reaches the shore
and loosely sways the braids
of an old weeping willow
as if to a sweet nostalgic rhythm
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on June 11, 2025 for contest YOUR CHOICE X sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
Summer heat fades away.
The crisp nip of an Autumn breeze
brings in skeletal trees without leaves.
Soon comes the icy winter night;
the gnawing frostbite.
Spring provides a moment of warm peace
until grey skies bring storms of grief.
Summer is the true season of release.
I pray for a sunny day.
I long to bask in humid July air,
listening to Cicadas sing,
staying up long past dark,
and shooting fireworks in the park.
We dress in our nation’s color schemes
fishing in lakes and swimming through streams.
Vacation is all that we need.
In July I will never run out of things to do.
Backflip on some rickety trampolines
or bike ride to Timbuktu.
Try thousands of cuisines.
Find new animals at the zoo.
Relax and fly the banners of red white and blue,
because July waits for you too.
Infinity Daydreams towards Affinity
In the quiet hush of dawn's embrace,
a soft sigh escapes the mitred lips of mourn.
As delicate flower crumbles to my hand
like a sand of time, returns to it's Mother borne.
Each fabricate petal a grave-layer, a memory shed
like a piece of me,
bleeds from every stem, cell of a lost hour,
a reminisce to devour,
as the viper enters the Garden as if it were a lair,
a den of thieves that weevles a harvest
or weasels the seed. in an outbreak of Spiritual
Leprosy from the World of media zombies
of sorceries median mean,
in the perversity of being taken and letting go,
of what used to be, what if's- Garden of Gethsemane.
What if
Nature aided me and a quest begins this very Eve?
I unplug myself from reality;
Dissociate myself from everything.
Put my body on aeroplane mode
To go back to the daydreams and delusions
Just so I could feel something.
But when I return I always find everything shattered
And so I try to pick everything up
And get back on track
Only to find I've lost everything in me.
The bits and pieces I've tried to connect
Were long gone before I knew.
Hallucinations, dreams and reality
Look all the same to me.
No longer able to tell them apart
I lose, once again, every sense of reality
Just to be an empty vessel numbed with nothingness.
Unraveled daydreams,
the flow state of the poet;
A ribbon of words.
Prancing through the sea
I play in the tide,
carefree and viral;
Internal compass,
no net ensnares me;
Dancing my way
unique gestures;
In sync currents,
I’ll never lose;
Sweet soft steps,
a swan dive
all at once;
Feral
daydreams
glide.
Never quit your daydream on a moonless night
as storm clouds gather and hide the light
of hope and desire for a better morrow;
cling to your daydream with all your might.
Leave behind the despair and sorrow
and look to your daydream with hopes to borrow
the inner strength needed for a brighter day
to freely walk through the fields of yarrow.
Always follow what your daydreams say
and let your aspirations lead the way;
never quit your daydream on a moonless night
and allow the darkness to betray.
April 19, 2023
Tomorrow is a beautiful word
full of promises and meadows vast.
Today but a breeze that, when once stirred,
watches moments as they scurry past,
those that linger we sometimes may catch.
Tomorrow glides in rose-colored hues
bluebirds on her shoulders as she waits.
Today's troubles will become good news
Tomorrow will make sorrows abate
For these promises, she will create.
Lovely Tomorrow: will she arrive
or is she just a spell we have cast?
Or, is it a place where hope survives
where our longing will be in the past
and daydreams we can capture at last.
April 13, 2023
for "Writing Challenge--T Words
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables=9
If only I could take you on a tour
To the worlds that my brain has built
And show you the lives I live
The colors I paint my walls with
The stories I draft on my brain cells
The places I travel to
And the places that I create inside it
Would you have understood me, maybe.
Down where azalea blooms linger
Creek's rhythm leads bird the singer
After the storm exposed gnarled, twisted roots
Swiftly creek's water still runs, love
We could float to the gulf, dove
Better to be freed altogether though
Strong wings lift the spirit to heights.
We never dreamed in our times of flight.
Again, let down, our dreams dissipate
Daydream: fragile as untempered glass.
Coming to life on clouds' rainy sky.
Building hopes it will at last surpass
other dreams we had and watched go by.
Wind's rustling leaves can nudge a dream,
though often found in bird's lovely song,
dandelion seeds wafting by streams,
sunset's reds massed in brilliant throng.
When you capture a daydream to own,
it will need some substance to sustain;
strength of desire, with future unknown,
don't let strength falter, people disdain.
Hold tight a daydream, or it may fade.
Once released, it may not reappear.
If, for moments, it lingers in shade,
It may become mist and disappear.
November 22, 2022
for Don't Quit Your Daydreams poetry contest
by Craig Cornish
6th Place
When daydreams surface, most are put aside-
stored as those momentary whims of mind,
that takes us on a magical short ride-
to soon dismiss as joys we will not find.
So far from our imaginary scenes-
the life we lead, we know as tried and true;
to deviate from comfort surely means
that doubt and stress in changes will accrue.
But daydreams rise from deep inside our hearts
as inner goals that serve as mental bait
for fearless selves to catch as future charts
directing us to our dreams' waiting gate.
Don't quit your daydream as a foolish goal-
for it could be the joy that makes you whole.
The one in my daydreams
The one I compare all others to
None of which can come close to u
U will always be the one that got away
If I could go back and change my decision
I would leave with u
U r the peace I am seeking
U r the life I want to live
The next day dream coming soon...
Marsh yellow marigold, purple water iris,
and salmon water spider lilies grow
against the edge of the large pond
filled with cool spring water,
fed from underneath the earth.
Beneath the welcoming cool shade
and dapple-gray shadows of a tall black willow
I stand embracing peaceful comfort.
I close my eyes and inhale the sweet fresh air.
I Bend down, pick up the perfect stone;
with a steady aim, I throw it.
In impact the stone makes a splash,
a resounding plunk.
I watch it skip across the pond's surface making
glimmering ripples.
Observing the ripples;
an album of daydreams opens up about the past.
Moments of clarity and purpose, of secrets,
pain and healing, bringing alive hope,
and love that entered my heart.
In hand, I held a pebble of my life that could
have so easily been thrown away.
3/21/2022
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