Dreamily Poems | Examples

Dreaming of the Waterfall

The sun bursts through a weeping cloud, feel soft warm rain.
Through buttercups and daffodils, he calls my name.
As ripples dance across the stream, I hear his call.
He takes my hand and leads me to the waterfall.

We climb high above the rainbow, breathe freshly scented air.
Hear gentle whispers in the breeze, beyond compare.
Climbing high we see for miles, we're both enthralled.
At the thunder and the power of the waterfall.

Hand in hand we walk away, and both look back.
I know one day we will return, re-trace our tracks.
Memories of magic times, we shall recall.
And wonder at the beauty of the waterfall.

In the morning haze our arms gently entwined
Magical images dance inside my mind
Reminiscing on our perfect escape,
I slowly open my eyes and try to stay awake.

Still slumbering in this tranquil calm,
I realise it’s time to switch off my alarm.
I’m dreamily laying close to you,
And I know someday our dreams will come true.

Let the Flowers Grow Again - Mystic

Dreamily, she whiled the empty hours
with her little dolls and her crayon box.
She drew lonely princesses in towers,
hummed to herself, pulled up her socks,
and sketched a field of colorful flowers. 

The forlorn blooms lay flat beneath her gaze.
She wondered, would it be as she had feared -
this would be one of those sad, hollow days.
Then, on the page, the sun and breeze appeared,
as lovely blossoms came alive, ablaze.

Supine, Looking At the Sky

Supine, looking at the sky
I’m on a hill, where daisies with the breeze
are dancing. I see birds and wish to fly -
to soar with them with joy and great ease.

Supine, with my heart in flight,
I’m flirting with the clouds surrounding me.
My spirit’s wings reach a lofty height.
Now higher than the birds, I soar free.

Supine, dreamily I glide.
The sun is sliding down, and I am one
with hues rose-red and tangerine, I ride
a radiant ray of the setting sun.

Supine, I’m falling to sleep.
I dream I am a goddess, and her name
is Luna. Underneath me shadows creep.
My reign of star-filled night I now reclaim.

Tie Dyed Hand

I have been called a hippy dippy;
Transient, I travel when I can,
to me mellow flow is so groovy;

Traveling from city to city,
that flower child who lives in a van;
I have been called a hippy dippy;

My spirit’s always been a gypsy;
With a tie dyed hand sign it began,
to me mellow flow is so groovy;

Cliche’ but I’m known to hug a tree,
nature is my hallucinogen;
 I have been called a hippy dippy; 

On the water I drift dreamily
aboard a laid back catamaran,
to me mellow flow is so groovy;

So chill unrefined far out at sea;
Ya dig? I’m all about peace man;
I have been called a hippy dippy,
to me mellow flow is so groovy.

To Those True to Us

Those friends you have who are
silent seeds that have you bloom 
into the flower of a poet you are!

They glitter mightily in your soul's 
Always radiant universe, raising your
Inspirations to the highest of stars.

A poet friend is not a sometimes thing.
They are nourishing, silver, moonbeams
Enabling your exhausted pen with joy to sing

Deep, true, thoughtful poetry you do compose,
With their starshine,dreamily on your strong back. 
Having these friends, leaves you with no lack.


With deepest gratitude,
Panagiota

                       April 10; 2024

Spring Sonata

Springtime, you always arrive so gently,
as high school proms bring tears of friends
who know they must soon part.
I will try not to weep of fifty-six years ago,
as I see the vision of my siblings,
and I leap through sprinklers bright
with rainbows,
I promise, Spring,
I won't cry.

Spring sonata of the bird's songs,
as I recall the natural wall of hydrangea
blossoms of mint and powder blue in
our backyard.
Royal young roses so blushed on
the white trellis.
The Good Humor truck jingled down
the street.
Neighbor's children waved large wands
with giant iridescent bubbles floating
aloft to the envy of the cumulus clouds.

Oh, springtide, you're our lively maiden
with a honeysuckle crown.
The presence of your rising moon monarch
in the eve casting her silver cherish on
weeping willows.
You sail through the ages,
but remain a debutante emerging from
the gray of winter's waning.
I promised springtime, I wouldn't cry,
but my tears are healing.

I dreamily walk by the modest little
home on the sidewalk,
the beloved place,
the streets of my youth,
spring sonata of my heart's song.
I'm in no need of my walker-
as I'm a child again. ~

Sydney

There we were - Alf and I - Pharaohs,
surveying those white pyramids -
Nests of ibis - ovulating - 
Opera.

Across the bridge we danced,
Swaying o'er the waves below - 
Spectred lovers on a phantom ship -
Drifting snug into port - oh, so were we.

Yes, There we were - Alf, you - left me,
As you cantered away on your white steed.

I'm diverting - like a white capped copper 
By the Circular Quay - away -
From Darling Harbour - rolling -
Onto the Rocks.

Yet, in Neutral Bay,
I - last - heard you say,
You'd be selling me down
At King's Cross.

So bye - my Alfie - it's over -
Just city lights and squalor - for me -
With whisky and history - this old bag lady
Stares dreamily over the sea.

The ancestral shackles I feel - loosening,
Pushed out - by the will to be free.

Recollection

Summer lover's moon shyly enclosed in 
silvered clouds,
a honeyed recollection,
white caps of memory waves,
cresting, curling dreamily,
a tide under eve's star canopy,
coupled in enchantment, 
entwined on the beach. ~

to lost friends

To lost friends
I have opened the window and inhale the summer
Some of the cottages I see, made of stone and lime are empty, their owners have gone home to their birthplace, where they died waiting for surgery, elderly they died of heart problems and of the dreaded cancer.
Empty houses are a sad sight, bought by those dreaming
of a peaceful retirement, spending time repairing their 
homes and drinking red wine at sunset
When illness struck and old age beckoned, they went back where their heart belonged, the pub and the betting shop
what do I know, my home is where I live at the time,
but I do remember a childhood of poverty and need
and child labor.
I'm no longer sure if my youth was a dream or something I have read in books, I sometimes think I have spent too much time reading, or I didn't care about the past of sorrow.
I was in love once, but when rejected I nearly jumped
into the waterfall, but the water was too cold which
tells me my intention was not that profound 
Year when abused by an orphanage while waiting for 
my mother to come home from the sanatorium
I dreamily think of snow falling gently to go for a walk on overgrown tracks

Embrazing God's Creation

As I lean my body on the sandy beach,
Looking at the crimson sky as I gaze,
Sounds of singing birds makes me feel sleepy,
Closing my eyes, feel the cool breeze dreamily.

Waves are feasting rapidly on a stony shores,
Relaxing my tired and weary soul, 
Staying in this amazing place,
Embracing God's creation with peace.




 November 8, 2023

Everglades Water Lily

You are a water lily in a wetland,
The scholars surround you,
They did not expect to find beauty,
In a place like this,
Where did you come from?
With your eyes greyer than glass,
And your mind like the sun,
You cast your spell,
Without even lifting one of your lovely fingers,
Nor raising your soothing voice,

A girl looks at you dreamily,
Struggling to ask you the right questions,
About the things you love,
To hold your attention,
And you are so humble in your wisdom,

Your friend embraces you,
After not seeing you for a week,
As though reuniting with a part of his own soul,

And they all pass books in ancient languages,
Into your lovely hands that seem to have been made for strumming lyres,
You dwell on words they'll never understand,
Until you emerge, 
With your hunger for meaning quenched,
They watch as you glow,
And they too are satifised,
for they live to make you smile

Adam's Apple

That scent
Y’know, fall
Cool, crisp, tantalizing
Caressed the orchard.
The fruit of summer’s labor
Weighing on sap-thinned branches.

Tiny fingers
Had claimed
Low hanging bounty.
The chivalrous and daring
Sought a higher calling.

They strolled
Amid the beauty
Holding hands
Dreamily leaning
One on the other.

She stopped
Pointing upward
It hung….high
Above them all.
He climbed
For love knows
All folly.

The cast comes off
In three weeks.

In the Slow Magic

When dawn is done and we’re alone
I want you in my embrace,...to trace
the aura of the dreams we’ve sewn
and bask dreamily in this space 

	In the slow magic of the night
		I drift into your arms
		awash with all your charms

As the dark consumes the sky
and the moon...begins its swoon
Your calming touch brings a sigh
as I beg tomorrow not come too soon

	In the slow magic of the night
		when the day has brought too much
		you calm me with your touch

Then brightness announces the day
and our dreams...become new schemes
the night’s fantasies fade away
and day’s realities become extremes

	In the slow magic of the night
		when at last all worries are outcast
		I melt into ecstasy unsurpassed

Dolce Far Niente

The only ounce of energy I'll be expending today
is having picked up a pen to scrawl these lines...
"I have declared this to be Dolce Far Niente Day."
Enjoying the sweet life, doing nothing by design.

I'll be spending time as I desire lazing in a chaise,
pretending I'm vacationing in the hills of Tuscany
whose orchards are heavy with grapes I must praise
for the mellow flavor of the fine wine offered me.

I will indulge myself enjoying their sweet bouquet,
malingering while listening to Chopin's Polonaise.
It's my intent to hold an annual Dole Far Niente Day
and have it last 'til stars ignite the night sky ablaze.

I will enjoy pampering myself with nothing more to do
but gaze on the clear blue waters of the Ligurian Sea.
Nothing will be hampering my idle nor twist it askew,
for I'll pay no heed to misgivings while in this reverie.

No more writing for I've taken good measure this day.
Pool waters are calling me, where I'll float peacefully
as twilight darkens. I'll take pleasure as I gently sway
in a hammock, content to stare at the moon dreamily.

Blood Waves

Heated by sun and rock
a mottled snake licks the morning air.
Last night, stones were its eyes,
a blood-chill had frozen the flavor
            and flicker
of tongue and taste.

The daylight is already sun-crushed,
                              heavily it crumbles,
dry churning a scant green
to withered acres,
grinding all beneath its hermetic heel.

A rabbit runs a racetrack behind its eyes,
long whiskers sightlessly search
reaching far from their hidden hollow,
its brown pelt dreamily brushes over
                                a rounding horizon.

Snake uncoils, breaking boulders of blood
between warming bones.
A cage of hoops unlocks a hunger.
A blushed mouth is snugged around
translucent fangs,
    bodkins that smell out
all small-pawed scrabbling’s.

Rabit ears twitch as eyes leap awake,
it hears the serpents lithe unhinging,
senses its scaled unclasping.
An immediate pulse quickens,
vibrant tendons of awareness
                          animate joy and fear.

On the quiet breath,
visions of life or death arise
          as speculative ghosts.
Now the sky must record
            while the earth forgets.

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