Long A dream Poems
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We met in the summer of 1780,
When violins wept beneath candlelight.
A classical concert in Vienna’s old heart —
Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Chopin —
The kind of night that lives forever.
She sat beside me, dressed in black velvet,
Her hair like raven silk,
Eyes full of autumn skies and secret songs.
A Jewish rose blooming in a world too cold.
When The Marriage of Figaro filled the hall,
She turned to me.
Our eyes met —
Two souls suddenly remembering a story
That hadn’t yet been written.
After the last note fell like snow,
We stood in silence.
Then I spoke:
“Susan, will you walk with me… forever?”
She smiled — like moonlight bending through lace —
And whispered, “Yes.”
We held hands down 11th Avenue,
Not running, just floating —
As if love had wrapped the world in slow motion.
Each streetlamp bowed as we passed,
Each shadow sang.
But time is a jealous clock.
One morning, she was gone.
No note.
No breath.
Only a red scarf left on our bench —
And the scent of music still dancing in the wind.
Some say she was a dream.
Others swear she was an angel in disguise.
All I know is:
Since that night, every time I hear Mozart,
My heart turns to 1780…
To her eyes…
To Susan Brumel.
The art of being happy is a dance between light and shadow,
With every hope comes an obstacle like a cloud on a clear sky,
And with every obstacle, we rise and settle like stones in a river,
Not everything must be perfect now, but beautiful in our minds like a dream.
It's an art to fill the void of the soul with echoes of forgiveness,
A painting of liberation from the chains of unmet expectations,
Instead of getting lost in the world of illusory and fragile completeness,
Believing that all that is incomplete is of a mad and pure beauty.
Every face is a mask, but the heart hides millions of stories,
Being content with less doesn't mean life will remain unchanged,
It's an art to enjoy the crescent moon, to see fullness in imperfections,
Hoping that one day the moon will be full, but living the joy of life's gift.
In our search for wholeness, we learn to love the shades,
To enjoy imperfections like rare and mysterious paintings,
For the art of happiness is to find beauty in life's fragments,
To dance with shadows and embrace the light on the path of destiny.
I have a dream often that I am a baby African forest elephant,
I keep it a secret, and in my dreams I roam dripping rain forests;
I was born at dawn near a wild stream cascading over rocks,
the first sounds I heard were birds chattering in the trees, loudly.
It was quite a shock falling to the ground like that and I was stunned,
then, I felt something nudging me, and nudging me, get up, get up;
so, on wobbly legs I stood up and looked up and up, wow she is tall,
I've been following her around for days now, but still not sure of anything.
Except, I know this huge beast is my mother, and she loves me,
but what exactly am I, trying to do everything she does but I fall down a lot;
I have these things that look like wings, maybe I can fly, nope can't fly,
I have become quite clingy and not just to mother but all the others too.
Whenever I wander off to explore they bring me back to them quickly,
with a snort and flick of their long, long nose, hey, I have one of those;
oh, if I wish I was like them, big, strong, intelligent, with a good memory,
to find water along journeys taken before and our endless vegetarian food.
But, I am just a baby still and have years to learn to be an elephant,
in my secret dreams I swim in rivers brown with clay and walk miles and miles;
in my Saharan African home, I think in my secret dream I will stay a little,
a baby African forest elephant exploring . . .
__________________________
January 19, 2019
Poetry/Personification/My Secret Life
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1106-270-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, If I Had A Secret Life
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger
First Place
When we looked ahead on January 1
we never thought what was to come
no holidays, wear masks, walk apart
all over the world many faces glum
Personally like many no break away
five holidays cancelled no time in the sun
having to use sanitisers not good for skin
public transport sit apart it's not fun
Having to queue to go shopping
church closed so watch on live stream
this pandemic covid 19 has changed us
will normal ever return or just a dream?
But be positive some things been good
for me personally life has slowed down
enjoyed walks in lovely countryside
done jobs that caused the wife's frown
I've read many books that's been good
so edifying for my soul to dig deep
learn theologically what honours God
then focus right, see what blessing to reap
I've read over a dozen good books
on subjects like humility, idols and worship
read sermons from great preachers of the past
been built up and grateful to Jesus eternal grip
Have written more poems reached 1700
find more new friends on AP so blessed
so we can pray for each other to rise
making us all rise to our cuckoo's nest
Now we pray to know better days
fix our eyes on Jesus, sure to obeys
( Looking back at my good and bad points of 2020.)
Mr. Smith sat tiredly, long hours at his desk,
by an old vacation photo, picturesque,
and a stack of papers; another twelve-hour day,
slowly, draining his lonely life away.
He looked at the picture and thought he heard
the voice of a tropical hummingbird
that lived inside that aged picture frame,
and, strangely, called him by his childhood name.
Could this be a hallucination?
Some out-of-control visualization?
He wondered, "Should I laugh out loud or scream?
I mustn't worry. It must just be a dream...
Or maybe it's a reverie, not a dream?"
The voice said, "I am His Majesty Supreme,
by needle beak, and by rotary wing,
I am the hummingbird fantasy king.
Smith felt his grip was growing flimsy,
when the bird said, "I also deal in whimsy".
"No! bird", you are my imagination!"
he screamed at the bird who forgot his station.
Mr. Smith disappeared, some say lost his mind.
Others say he left the world behind,
and he's living in a tropical dream
with a hummingbird, His Majesty Supreme.
Come forth!
From that square lifeless wood
I adjure you
From the breast of your capture cease.
Dare nature's will and power
To hold you still
Fight from within you
And break those shackles
Of audacious cruelty.
Loose yourself from the bond
Of death's hostility
Can you hear me?
He that was pronounced dead
Living on our minds like a dream
Stop our grief and shame
The veils of darkness.
Come forth!
From the grave.
The earth's empty by your leave.
Rage! Howl! ! And Awake! ! !
Empty the grave at this command
Break the doors! Loose the grips!
Come forth!
If there are ears in the dark,
Then out as we wait
Walking yourself
into the woods
Trees on either side
The scent of primroses
upon the ground
In the crisp cool air
my summer breeze
You sat yourself
upon a golden fleece
In the centre
A rose for you
Tossing my heart
in the air
I give you
my everything
Including my soul
I fall into the pond
My heart cries
I became the frog
Forever I remain here
Waiting love to arrive
I do not crave
fancy diamonds
Or fancy anything
for that matter
I just want love
My fly in the ointment
To heal my wounds
Open the door
my heaven
I will give you everything
Your heart desires
Open the door love
A beautiful fountain
I bathe near
Most beautiful
in my eyes
That I have ever seen
Maybe fairytales
a dream
My heart bursts its desire
In my kingdom
This must surely
be heaven
To kiss the frog
My fairytale begins
I walked from the office with a newfound vigor;
it was around 2:15 PM and my guts were at ease.
I'd had a good night's sleep, a good morning's work,
and a brief but vigorous workout right before lunch.
I'd put in some work in the early afternoon,
but I wasn't too busy for a 13-minute stroll around the plaza.
High sixties. The tiniest hint of a breeze. Soft, warm sunshine.
A stomach filled but not overly so.
My muscles pleased to be mildly exerted
after knowing rougher wear.
A body rejoicing in self-improvement,
traveling backwards to a younger time
even while fantasizing over what it might become.
A mind content that it can navigate its tasks without trouble,
always ready to immerse itself
in the tiniest of beautiful truths
that the world constantly presents.
A soul that sees itself on the path to God,
trusting to a happy ending even while believing
there will be much pain before then.
A heart brimming with zealous fire,
so ready to give itself to another.
And my heart-soul gasped a little in a moment of realization,
as it has at times before.
What a perfect day it is.
You have given me so very much.
And these blissful days see me on the rise,
disciplining my mind,
strengthening my body,
learning better how to guard my soul,
and watching my impatient little heart
waiting for its turn at a dream.
Oh, how perfect!
To be caught up in the halcyon perfume of fairest winter-spring,
warm in the sun and cool in the shade.
To have much, but yet still have reasonable hope
that tomorrow might be sunnier, still.
6 February 2024
I’ve been quite busy; I’ve baby sat all day
My dear grandkids came over for a play.
Went to the Tangled maze, got lost, but had fun
Played Minigolf, then, ice-skated on the run.
Back home, to draw and paint, did some board games too
They never stopped, smiled all day, so much to do.
When the kids come around my heart fills with joy,
I give then lots of love, buy them each a toy.
Then back home they went, I kissed them all goodbye
Come again, make it soon, ‘Yes’ was their reply.
The mess I cleaned up, a smile upon my face
I love to have them, their love I can’t replace.
That night I lay down, to rest my weary head
Didn’t think time was up, but I woke up dead.
Dead! How can it be, I wonder what went wrong?
Saw their tears, I called out “Hey I won’t be long.
I’m not dead, it’s a dream, this nightmare must stop
Please, I’m begging you, don’t give to me the chop.
All gathered around, my lifeless body still
Hey, I’m still here because, deaths not in my will.
When I saw them weep, my heart it gave a thump
My little girls saved me, my heart gave a pump
I worked hard to return, as I took a breath
A ‘miracle’ they called, when I cheated death.
Nan, your back with us we knew you would not leave
What is this fuss I said, you’re too young to grieve.
That’s how my day turned out, just a tangled maze
Wake up dead, not for me, it’s now all a haze
Then We Will Be Free
Dreams have turned to black
There is nothing to wish for
Nothing left to dream of
No future and no past
Just an instant that passes unnoticed
All because someone owns your ideas
There is no light when your mind is not allowed to work
Not allowed to have thoughts of its own
A dream may offend the few
Thoughts are dangerous if brought to light
Destructive if they are openly shared
Keep your mouth shut
Say only what everyone else says
It is the only way to be safe
To stay out of governmental censorship
Just given the ability to listen to leaders
They own our dreams and wishes
Keeping them safe behind closed doors
After all they are always right
We are not intelligent enough to think
Just wait for someone to find the light
The keys to the locked doors
Then we will dream, wish and think
And then we will be free