Long Daydreaming Poems
Long Daydreaming Poems. Below are the most popular long Daydreaming by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daydreaming poems by poem length and keyword.
Have you ever asked yourself if your meant for something more
Do you ever find yourself searching
Although you never seem to figure out what it is your searching for
Do you trust those who you shouldn’t and doubt those who are true
Have you ever found yourself lost
And had no idea what to do
Have you ever ended up feeling overwhelmed and unable to catch a break
Do you ever find yourself gasping underneath fear
As you smile for them to see but your heart continues to ache
Have you ever wondered what you could have been had you made a different choice
Do you find yourself wishing you could go back
And make them hear your voice
Do you ever sit and imagine having an entirely different life
Have you found yourself daydreaming
And had a happy ever ending as a princes wife
Have you ever questioned if there was a god and why he lets you hurt so much
Do you ever find yourself second guessing everything
Do you ever feel so numb that you can’t feel the slightest touch
Do you ever think that somethings eventually gotta give
Have you ever cried without knowing why
Do you ever think this was not the life you were meant to live
Have you ever found yourself envious of those whom seem to have it all
Do you try to achieve greatness
Do you instead just sit there feeling small
Do you speak your mind or hide your feelings deep inside
Have you been honest
Or just like them you lied
Do you ever find yourself in competition for someone else’s love that seems impossible to achieve
Have you fallen in the shadows of someone else
Do you give up or just no longer believe
Do you ever feel so empty as if nobody sees your pain
Have you ever been pushed aside and ignored
Do you ever feel insane
Have you ever sat there without realizing hours had passed away
Do you ever feel alone
Have you tried to make them proud but they only had bad things to say
Have you ever prayed that god would rescue you from this hell
Do you think that he heard you
Were your prayers answered or next time should you yell
Have you ever witnessed a miracle which made it impossible to not believe in something more
Do you remember the warmth which accompanied it
Do you deserve to walk through heavens door
Have you ever felt so lost and afraid unsure of where to turn
Do you make the same mistakes
Or do you finally learn
I WISH I WEREN’T A BUNNY
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I never wanted to be a bunny, I’m not playing this game
I’d reconsider a puma: a lion with a frightening mane
But that’s not my fate, I’m a bunny, a defenseless toy
Other creatures have fangs, claws; they can deploy
I have no defensive arms for use in personal defense
Why nature created a sitting duck, just makes no sense
My choice would be the fiercest critter ever seen
Yep, you got the picture, the ferocious wolverine
Indian lore says, one could cause a village to vacate
Moving in on his territory was a fatal mistake
He’d come after you, if on horse back or if on foot
He’d destroy your tepees and lodges all gone, kaput
But alas, that’s not me: in spite of what I’d like to be
I’m a bunny with soft fur, that’s something we all can see
I have soft long ears, and a wiggly waggely tail
A cute sniffing nose, my gifted maneuvers never fail
Maybe for you, but doesn’t satisfy my lifelong dream
I’m a ferocious beast inside willing to dominate the scene
Mother nature could have given me more traits to bear
Like those big hind legs and speed she gave to the hare
Or a cotton tail that can avoid danger by simply leaping
I spend the day, daydreaming or silently sleeping
But all in all; the object of my wishes and self esteem
Is to wake up tomorrow in the body of a wolverine
Each day when I open my eyes, it’s the same old story
My status hasn’t changed, I’m the example of lonely
When I first arrived every body came over to see me
I was the new thing on the block a real live novelty
But as time progressed visitors were fewer in number
Reducing my activities to intermittent slumber
Bunny (2)
I can’t complain I have fresh vegetables every day
And usually some company, if the kids decide to play
But I’m a one man show unable to live up to my reputation
As a prolific contributor in expanding the population
Each night I pray when I wake a willing doe will appear
I know she is somewhere but unfortunately, not here
In a dream the other night, I was lightening quick
Instead of hippity n hopping, I was lickety split
Those wishes that constantly flood my senses
Doused by the existence of surrounding fences
I’ll just have to accept my lot, be docile, not mean
But between you and I, I’d rather be a wolverine
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen
I grew up in a garden paradise
large white house in the country
sheltered by ancient oaks and naievity
passed idyllic days in childhood bliss
never ran it much through my mind before
until the day
I walked two hours with my life packed up on my back
set out on a sunny autumn morning
running on a four days empty belly, and some strong black coffee
met a tall, thin man along the way
asked me if I could play the bass slung over my back
I replied yes and he gave me his number
Three quarters of the way there the baby's stroller
gave one last groan of protest
and buckled under the weight of the bags hung on the handle
spilling everything onto the street
"These things can be kind of tricky,"
said the young man who helped me scoop everything up,
explaining how it used to happen
when he pushed around his younger siblings.
"See you around sometime,"
he offered up
Later we arrived,checked in at the front desk
no one else knew we were at the shelter
days here are passed aimlessly
in sedated daydreaming
nights are spent shivering with cold
and exhaustion
I can no longer count
the number of times I've been broken before
(I try not to think about it)
and pieced back together, but never quite the same,
I could tell you how the closet floor smells like mildew
when soaked through repeatedly with tears,
or describe the way his black eyes bulge in anger,
describe how every little fleck and bubble gathers at the corners
when his mouth froths white with hate,
and the vilest obscenities, and how after a while
you start to ask yourself if they're true
Armed with all the pamphlets from the front office
I was gonna do all the right things
they say it takes about five tries before you're successful
but what do you tell to the child who says, "Daddy bad, daddy gone?"
I almost made it this time, and then
He dropped by, told me to pack up my stuff,
we took the bus home
past the place where the young man helped me gather up my life off the road
past the spot where the tall, thin man gave me hope
and his number
- The baby was excited about his first ride
I'm back in the same old spot again,
little has changed but time
and knowing that once, just once,
I almost made it
...now I watch the birds out my kitchen window
close my eyes and ...
I'm almost free
You dig into my skin with your claws of distrustful disdain
Why don’t you welcome the Healing rain?
I promise that it will wash away the troublesome pain
That bullies you to the extreme – try, darling, try to remain sane,
Yet, I still feel for you…I have been driven insane
By the fact that I have been left behind…
I was that one insecure, sad child…
Don’t give me the cold shoulder…please don’t hurt me…I know I am not your kind
I am not your kind…but I am kind and mild…
I was once that dense, wild, immature child, carelessly doing whatever he wanted to do…
Until I met you…out of the blue, I knew you were lost and alone too…
How did I know you were coming down with the love flu?
We both wanted love to feel right…we wanted to be accepted…we wanted to be embraced with one-of-a-kind affection…
The passions, pounding pleasurably into our mind’s tranquil eye…we didn’t know our foolishness was another form of corruption…
Say goodbye to bliss that once said its vows to me...my heart is throbbing with endless fright...
Strife is knitting in every verse…I lost my train of thought, feeling worthless, but that’s nothing new…
My soul is crying out for your attention…there’s a hole in my contrite heart; though shame embraced me long ago, I’m still willing to search around for your other shoe…
Let’s face it – you're just another abominable sin, making me feel vulnerable and downcast…are you a sheep in wolf’s clothing? The truth is becoming black and white…
You were my black long hearse,
Running me over with your cold-blooded ignorance…
No one or anything in this wretched world ever felt much worse…baleful dilemmas start to rehearse (double doubts and abhorred avarice; but, nevertheless – there’s more grand land to explore)
I was twirling around in my sugar-coated trance…
I caught a glimpse at you, daydreaming relentlessly…you are a graceful gift, not a corrupt curse (that sends guilt into my numbed noggin… I’m no longer kissing the abyss; in other words, the sentiments of hopelessness doesn’t intimidate me anymore)
I am cursed...a heart like mine is broken...dark angel, sorrow is not the answer...so rehearse...our exquisite love oath…we welcome the halo-shaped sun…the dazzling, astonishing auras, surrounding your body, deflating and inflating like a kid’s red balloon…
i sit in this hot shower and my bones feel cold. my brown hair is falling out as i wash my legs on this floor and i wonder if you would wash my hair for me. if you would kiss my scalp while i cry and i will hope you cant see my tears but we both will know you could. you will keep your lips sealed for my pride.
i wonder if your warmth would bring my bustling body back to life,
i wonder oh baby i wonder
i think in this hot shower with my eyes shut and my legs crossed and my teeth bared like a hellhound ready to strike
i have spent all my life wondering.
i have spent so much time daydreaming and honey you are the best daydream i've got. the closest step to the fantasy world and i will grip on with my foaming lips and sharp claws and pray you dont bite back.
I will watch my teeth meld into your neck and hope you've got dog shampoo for my wretched body. i hope you have enough heating pads and blankets because at night baby i get cold and i get mean. these claws sharpen and my scars show darker and my brain gets fuzzy and maybe its like im possessed.
the sharpest fangs bite the hardest at night and when you feel cold you grow ugly. my eyes will sink in at night and my nose will shape crookedly and my hair will stand on its end and i daydream you will find me pretty when i moan like a dying dog. it feels like yesterday i was on the operation table being ripped from my mother and the brown freckles on my skin whisper at night i wont be warm again. that i will fight again. that in the ring i will bare my scars to the monster and i will fight it alone. i will fight it so alone that the monsters cold breath will give me frostbite. you will be gone for a minute but i know you wont leave me. at the end of the fight, at the end of the match, you will pick my bruised and battered body back up and tell me how good i did. how beautiful i looked how sweet my dance was how well behaved i am,, how much you love me- You wont leave me because for such a hellhound, my body is so cold and you find it lovely. you will set my nose back into place and suck my eyes to where they belonged. you will silence my cries and kiss my hellish features goodnight. because for such a hellhound, i am such a beautiful girl. i am such a good pet. i am your favorite hellhound.
I.
When he was born he was named Reid Gibson,
and his parents weren’t the richest of folk,
didn’t have money to buy land back east,
so off to the great frontier they did go.
This was way back in 1823,
and young Reid had only just reached age ten,
his father found farming prairie a chore,
he had never been a diligent man.
When in town one trip, buying some supplies,
he heard tales of trappers in rocky peaks,
starting daydreaming of some quick money,
and more news of beaver-trapping did seek.
Reid’s mother thought it was all a mirage,
but Reid’s father cared little what she thought,
it wasn’t a woman’s place to judge men,
so new rifles and beaver traps he sought.
He took Reid with him, saying it was time
for the boy to begin learning a trade,
Reid was afraid, and wanted to stay home,
but his pa pushed him along anyway.
They crossed the plains and by some miracle
avoided the Plains nations on their mounts,
somehow got their way to Fort Kiowa,
where the fur trappers told them, “Turn around.
“The ’rees are raiding any who go west,
taking scalps from any whites they find there.
A man like you will not last very long,
for you child at least, you should take care.”
But Reid’s father was a confident man,
too much considering what he’d achieved,
he’d come all this way to make his fortune,
and balked at all who told him not to leave.
So they went out as the fall settled in,
searching the mountains for ponds and for plews,
they found one but didn’t have that much look
since neither of them knew quite what to do.
A week had gone by, the tension did rise,
Reid’s father’s frustrations gave way to rage,
his father’s shouts gave away where they were,
the Arikara came, and not to trade…
They ran down his father by the pond shore,
struck at him with lance until he fell,
then leapt from their horses, cut off his scalp,
and celebrated with a piercing yell.
Reid tried to hide in a nearby forest,
but these warriors were good at their craft,
they found him in moments and dragged him out,
at his struggles they let out belly laughs.
One of them held a hatchet to his throat,
the other spoke, then the man abated,
they bound up his wrists, threw him on a horse,
Reid realized he would be captivated.
. Each year as Christmas rolls around, as I buckle under the pressure and stress of
shopping for gifts for people that already have everything, I find myself remembering that
Christmas of 1954.
Dad had joined the army that year and we moved from the East Coast of Canada
to Ontario, leaving behind our extended family and the only home I had ever know in a small
fishing village along the Bay of Fundy.
Now we stood gazing in horror at the rows of ugly buildings sitting on barren land
in the middle of nowhere. This was the housing provided by the army and was a major part
of the wage agreement.
My mother was inconsolable until dad rented us a small apartment over a Chinese
restaurant in downtown Barrie. There was no remuneration by the army for forfeiting the
housing, so it left dad with a very small pay-check
Pay day was once a month and we usually ran out of money in the last week, so,
off we would go to the pawn shop with dad’s prized possession; his short-wave radio, won for
superior marksmanship.
Being kids, we finally adjusted to our new world as we watched the Santa Claus
Parade march below our living room window amid the honking horns, blaring bands and
throngs of people lined along the streets as far as the eye could see as we laughed with glee.
~~~
We had seen them on our way to school in the window of the bicycle shop;
gleaming with chrome spokes and handlebars and hand grips adorned with multi-colored
streamers. There I would stand until my feet grew numb from the cold, daydreaming of
riding back to the East Coast. I could actually see the sun glistening on the waves as I raced
along the ocean on the way to grandma’s house. More than once I had to stay after school
for being late.
My brother thought maybe if we were really good, Santa would bring those
bicycles to us. I being the older and therefore the wiser, knew the state of the real Santa’s
affairs and promptly convinced my brother I had heard from a reliable source Santa had a
shortage of bicycles this year and we would just have to earn the money and buy them
ourselves.
Continued in part 2....
My carribbean summer love
Was Morning sun in the sand
On the sweet Jamaican island
Home of my mothers birth, land.
As I got off the plane,
I knew I was home.
Warm winds blowing on my face.
So, Gentle was the breeze
"Lord have mercy",
whats happening to me?
I went, to my destination
I walked, Down to the sea.
The heart was filled with such glee,
As sunshine, beamed down on me.
My breakfast was filled,
With fresh vegitation.
Ground provisions of every kind.
Fruits from every tropical tree,
It was simply, devine.
The sweetest fruit, I tasted.
Wasn't a apple, plum or pear.
It was a delicious mango,
that even Adams, girlfriend,
Eve would, not share.
I had such, great meditation.
It wasn't, on material things
It was just the lovely feel of nature,
blessing, my surroundings.
The oceans mesmerizing,
Blue Crystal skys, as clear as Can be.
It was so magnificent & amazing,
pure tranquility.
My eyes could not believe.
Lush green landscape,
The sway, of coconut trees.
Vibrant colours, red, yellow and green ,
flowers decorated, my scenery.
The smell of the oceans breeze,
just captivating
I had to stop and ask GOD, is this heaven?
As I continued, on my journey.
The next stop was Dunns River falls,
Streaming, from the river, into the ocean floor.
I climbed each rock carefully,
just in awe of this raw, natural beauty.
Raindrops trinkling, the air so fresh & clean.
I felt so free & alive, thought I was daydreaming
Didnt need a watch, Roosters crowing
Hourly, Tic toc, on the dot, as time briefly stopped.
To marvel, at this creation.
No scientist on earth, could ever top!!
Later that evening, the moon lit my way,
to where, I could hear Sweet Reggae music play.
Everyone was dancing from soca, pop, to R&B.
The rhythmic sounds all around, At a big beach party.
I had jerk chicken, on the beach as fried fish was cooking near
Deliciousness, filled the air
Love was the atmosphere.
Simple living, smiles always giving. No worries or cares,
My Caribbean summer love
true, Happiness, being there!!
Contest. Summer Day
Posted 6/17/13
I will not be late to work today
I will get there on time
I will brush my teeth
Without singing songs
Without thinking about birthdays
About gymnasiums
About TAKS
About sound
About war
Republicans
Democrats
Independents
I will get there on time
I will eat my oatmeal
Without thinking of
Broken valentines
Strewn against a wooden
Fence
Like dropped goblets
From a robbers pillowcase
I will be there before the bell rings
My papers will be checked
My hair will be combed
My mind will be alert
Ready to begin my lesson
I will not wonder why
My oldest son doesn’t have a job
I will not pray too long
For my daughter who is taking the bar today
At 10:30 AM in New Orleans
I will not scar my knees wishing
For some alternate world
Where children are never neglected
Or hurt
Where there is no abandonment
What nonsense to try and order the world
Just get to work on time
Put your things in the car, your projector and
The white binders that you didn’t look at
All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the
grades on the computer
I will leave now
Before it is impossible to
Be on time
I will cream my ashy ankles
I will not focus on the white
Cat on the black pillow
With the green eyes
I will not water the plant
I will not watch TV
I will not write poetry
Before work
I will not write poetry
Before work
I will get to work on time
I will be ready
I will not be daydreaming about fog
Wondering if I’ll get Alzheimer’s like my mother
Or colon cancer like my dad
I won’t be thinking about that stuff
I will be locking the front door and
Closing the gate and clicking the clicker
And starting the car and leaving
I will not be in my living room
Wondering if there is any reason to love
Because I do not love for reason
I love because He first loved me
It is not incantations or intoxication
Or imagination it is my life and
The structure will come with the
Clearness of Bajan water
So clear you can see the fish
Fly float across the Atlantic
It is time
This poem must end
I will not be late for work
This morning
Not for nothing
Not for nobody
Not for anything
Not for everything
This poem is over
the work day begins