( extended sonnet )
o there's a twilight magic midst the mist
it floats between the eventide and dawn
attending winds of fancy, heaven-kissed
that billow with sweet breaths of Avalon
so waiting on a hope 'til gloaming's gone
a sea of suns to cast your dreams upon
o there is an enchantment thru the night
that dances with dark charm and reverie
it holds all yearnings in its bosom, bright
and waits for your desire to set them free
to plumb the inky depths of midnight sea
and loose your sleep's imaginings-to-be
o there are wonders in the evening’s air
thus brought to full fruition in your sleep
all spun to threads of artfulness and care
and woven into wishes, grand and deep
a tapestry of moonbeams meant to keep
the secrets of the twilight in its creep …
and ev’ry soul who tends that great expanse
obliges your sweet dreaming … as they dance.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
a fragile thread gleams
connecting heart to unseen~
faith's soft shining dreams
the vast dark ocean
faith's small lamp guides through the storm~
rays of emotions
inner chilling doubts
faith's steady warmth dispels fears~
soft sunshine sprouts out
when words cannot reach
faith builds a bridge to the soul~
failures, lessons teach
the mountains stand tall
faith whispers, "You can ascend"~
step by step man crawls
a tapestry rolls
each color, each thread, a faith~
a beautiful whole
a quiet morning
faith awakens in the soul~
heaven up high sings
gentle sunrise bright
washes the world, faith returns~
a heavenly light,
Big ghosts have small ghosts
in their dreams to haunt ‘em,
Small ghosts have smaller ghosts
and so-on ad infinitum
I was out at sea in a fishing boat,
fishing in calm waters;
standing, I held a rod,
longing for the tug on the line
at the baited hook.
And as I stood there,
I saw everything around me suspended
like an image within a frame;
the white flight of a gull in the air,
the sun’s bright reflection on the water,
the boat’s intoxicating sway upon the foam—
all within the same frame.
At one point, the line was pulled taut,
and the world changed in an instant:
the seagull vanished into the northerly wind,
the sun hid behind the clouds,
the sea turned turbulent,
the fishing boat tossed like a walnut shell on the waves,
and—with such stubbornness—
I struggled to stay upright, clutching my rod.
And as I battled the wild waves,
holding the rod with all my might
against the pull of the line,
suddenly the boat soared like a seagull—
a white sail fluttering where wings should be—
yet, with such stubbornness,
I still held fast to the rod,
fishing for dreams
in the open sea of the frame.
The prom dress that you never wore
That certain boy you didn’t date
The phone call that came nevermore
All shaped the turns that made your fate
Looking back along your wake
Old disappointments linger still
Yet all those things that made you ache
Were ground within life’s turning mill
Yet there stands reality
Where perseverance, dreams were made
Through them you clearly came to see
Your finest choices have been played
The glittered dreams of youth and truth
You once wore proudly on your sleeve
Have ripened into lasting proof
Of all the things you did achieve.
I lay resting in a bed of dreams,
as time slipped away.
Heavy with the world's grief,
weakness awaits me—
laziness settles in my skin,
while all around, the spirit falls still.
About this poem
I often wonder moon
if you sing tunes ~
have you ever sung one for me?
Knowing the lyrics in your grab,
I surely believe that you have.
Your visage glimmers promise
whispers of life's fulfillments.
From your big screen, mystical notes
float sparkled excites down to me.
Mostly, like moonshine,
your moonglow
inebriates my full heart and lulls me
to an imaginative design.
Your brilliance persuades smiles to widen
or turn frightened that your yeses might
be hope caresses falsely styled.
Often, your quasar orb tilts
towards
feels so soft they surpass optimistic
and my logic runs off.
Your gleam was long ago deemed
a radiant obtuse muse, lighting
the globe’s hold of dreams.
Your otherness role is man’s gift.
You know all why’s comprising our lives;
we just need to know how to lift our eyes
towards God’s sky.
Are we just waiting to Questions the Problems?
Are dreams just stories that have not been turned into facts?
Or are facts things that turn into dreams to tell stories?
What happens to lies that are stretched, does it just turn into truths?
So then lies are just pieces to the absolute truths?
Who dares enter the Chambers of ho-lies?
And a-tempts to open the Arks of Covenant?
Would you even need to balance lies with truth if they are part of the whole?
For what you perceive is what you receive?
Then shall I say "receiving is perceiving/presieving"?
Coffee, morning sun.
People softly passing by—
Chasing city dreams.
Question any advice from a friend at 1:12 a.m.
— it’s probably unsound—
but better than staring at the ceiling with your thoughts.
The solution to existential dread is just… outfits and vibes.
Last night, as I slept like a baby - or a log - or a baby log -
I dreamt of vintage Gap dresses and 80s ivory pink glam glitter cocktail frocks.
Sometimes the only available response to civilization is
to buy an imaginary vintage Gap dress and call it coping.
And for some reason, I dreamt, briefly, of Trump as Jesus.
If sleep fails to restore the mind, at least it deals vivid
images to decorate our unconscious unease.
Trump thinks of himself as Jesus—but the question is:
Has Trump actually read the Bible?
Maybe Trump doesn’t know what happened to Jesus.
Spoiler: the Romans got cross with him.
Some jokes are so stupid—they have to be true.
.
.
A song for this:
Dreams by The Cranberries
.
note: You don’t have to read the Bible, you could stream the movie:
The Bible (1966) directed by John Huston
She is my star, Amaryllis,
who, beneath the full moon, sleepily caresses
the foam of southern seas beside the atoll of Harmony...
Night after night (waiting for a miracle)
I wander in a fever dream near the Cape of Hopelessness;
I yearn for her helpless tenderness...
When the first rays of dawn finally light up the horizon
and the voice of a distant bard is carried on the breeze,
I’m breathless with amazement…
Amaryllis slowly emerges from the waves in a long, silver robe
tinged with the hue of pink seashells.
Pearls like tears glisten in her thick, curly copper hair,
and moonlight gleams upon her sandals of seaweed...
The surf roars, the sky descends toward the water.
She raises her slender arms and casts upon me the net
of her capricious desire.
Suddenly, I sink into the depths...
I'll give you an idea of what I'm thinking
let you into my darkest room
I'll hold your hand just to comfort
peel your eyes you'll see soon
in the silence of the night
sitting all on my own
I offer myself help
and try lighten the gloom
Talking to myself
stacking thoughts on a shelf
in a darkened room
only light is my screen
in a darkened room
I 'm allowed to dream
In my mind I'm a superstar
been around the world
In my mind I'm superior
my flag has been unfurled
my dreams are ghosts in the dark
and they are haunting me
I'm still building a Noah's ark
and filling with my fantasies
Nothing outside these four walls
in my tiny prison cell
the world doesn't exist, thank god
so glad I'm on my own
In my darkened room
Neither a patriot nor a cosmopolitan
I’m walking no party line, carrying no cross
Sorry for this, but I’m just metropolitan
Making the ends meet, giving no toss
About others, and they feel the same
About me, so we’re on equal footing
Have a nice day is the one thing we say
Whoever we meet, doesn't mean rooting, tooting
Once I had a dream to live by the sea
Then in the garden I wanted to spend
The rest of my days, but it wasn’t to be
So I waved goodbye to both dreams that I had
That’s how I see it, patriots and cosmopolitans
Immigrants, refugees, seekers of home
Set your sails straight away to the dearest ones
Otherwise, you are bound to make it alone.
Last night I couldn't
sleep a wink at all
for
the sound of thunder
like the Gods' bowling ball
rolling on a hardwood floor
resounding on the airs
doing a number on my slumber
in the room upstairs
but
in the serenity of silence
I'll switch off the light
catch a nap
and if it's quiet tonight
hopefully
between moonbeams
be
carried away on dreams sweet dreams
My palms has been good to you all
Since time memorial
My palms felt your weakness
Your simultaneous pain
Through the beauty of your skin
Although my palms are rough
Hardened by the toughness of the earth
Although we dreamed dreams
Under rain and sunshine
Hoping to meet peace at the mountain top
I couldn't sit on my family tree ??
Because the tide in me bore you
Looking at the cloud now
It seems beautiful over my head
I count you all among the stars in heaven
My palms will always know you
Although you have a nutritious smile
Just like my other stars
I still count compassion among you all
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.