Long Dreamer Poems
Long Dreamer Poems. Below are the most popular long Dreamer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dreamer poems by poem length and keyword.
I am looking out my window
The sky is overcast
Mrs. Robin scurries across my lawn
Oblivious to the weather forecast
They're calling for rain and thunder
But Mrs. Robin is not alarmed
Her only concern is finding worms
And protecting her babies from harm
She's happy with her simple life
Just carrying out nature's plan
We would all do well to pay attention
Good advice for our fellow man
Get back to a simpler way of life
Just be happy you're alive
Feeling the love of family and friends
It's the only way to survive
Sound like a Utopian existence?
I've been called a dreamer before
No doubt we've got to start somewhere
Before the world we know is no more
©Jack Ellison 2012
I'm well aware the streets aren't paved with gold
yet I still tread upon all forlorn roads,
not wise enough to see what I am told,
expecting much anew at each crossroads.
I long knew that grass is no more greener
yet I still walk across from parched to see,
wisdom will not still my inner dreamer,
for yonder may I find my own ash tree.
The monsters of my past gone from my head
yet each and every night before I sleep,
not wise enough to check beneath my bed,
so, back, in vivid dreams, they always creep.
Not wise enough to know, though child has gone,
there is no Zeus, and I am not Memnon.
If I could fetch you the moon on a spoon
I’d give you galaxies in a coffee cup
And sing softly to make you swoon
Then add the Milky Way as creamer
Stir the moon on the spoon
Sweetened by your lips and
The heart of a dreamer
Taking satiny sips you’d be refreshed
Find yourself in the family way
As celestial seed grows beneath
Your breast making you starry eyes
My favorite work of art
For you grow like the moon
A crescent that blooms
With child dancing on ribs
Doing all the fetal flips
Birthing my red heart
Universal love child so dark
Ebony eyes onyx skin
Chiseled dimples on cheeks on chin
A star child destined to win
Seek then that true light
That helps your soul grow,
Seek truth that gives sight
That funds your swift flow.
Know pure zest that grooms
Your heart in sure form,
Know wise zeal that blooms
Your mindset and norms.
Feel finesse right now
In colours and tints,
Feel splendour somehow
In stillness that mints.
Live each day to tell
The tale of good cheer,
Live each night to dwell
The lovely dreams here.
Dare brave life's drama
With faith and hope dear,
Dare hurl agenda
With love that spurs cheer.
Start to see beauty
In all that you see,
Start to feel truly
In joy's harmony.
Be your destiny
As you embrace fate,
Be your grand story
As you breeze each gate.
Journey beyond time
In an endless space,
Journey beyond rhymes
In a boundless grace.
Go home to a place
Beyond things unseen,
Go back to a face
Beyond thoughts within.
Here and now find bliss
As a watcher deep,
Here and why know this
As a soul that leaps.
Hear the void calling
In your dreamy sighs,
Hear the voice singing
In your sacred highs.
Be beyond belief
Where truth hides in grief,
Be beyond conceit
Where joy never grieves.
Love shows the pathway
In all journeys here,
Love styles the highway
In all that brings cheer.
Dear soul dreamer here:
Awake to new light,
Dear wanderer steer:
Awake to true sight.
Leon Enriquez
28 February 2015
Singapore
I'm a dreamer ,I live my dreams and am living my dreams
Let my dreams build me!!The sorrows keeps on escalating but have not stopped living
Been the outmost pleasure of my life is waking up with a smile knowing fully that I've lived and am still living
Living with sorrows is like a disease which has no cure yet can be effectively eliminated,,I can't endure the pain of not living
Heal me nature
Am not ready to give up on that which blooms day and night..
Am about to lie again and yet am smiling,i can't continue complaining about life
How live it come tomorrow morning..
Am living.
Form:
When love lies in a crypt unnamed
And it's fire lives on lips untamed
And the wild fury wakes from it's sleep
to find the who or what it seeks
With thirst and hunger of the starving
Armed with strength men find alarming
and the valor of a silent knight
Antisipating whatever unknown fight
built for battle and not for flight
Searching both the days and nights
for the thing that illudes the sight
Made of love and things measured
identified by hopes and things treasured
Found only by the eyes of the soul
to satisfy an insatiable goal
Where only grace can intercede
and the lonely has met its chosen seed
To give to it's own special need
That one of which the dreamer dreamt
That angel for whom the eyes have wept
The secrets that one's heart has kept
All fulfilled to the deepest depth
To the place where inspiration ferried
and to the person imagination carried
All wrapped in things called thought
Inescapable this thing where it's caught
My heaven, where my paradise is you
My perfect, is everything you do
My soul has found its rest
with love, that turned my crypt into a nest
With you, my soul has been blessed
with peace, and this is happiness.
When velvet night has come of age,
Stars twinkle above green foliage.
Angels softly sing a heavenly song,
Of peace and an end to all wrong.
Then such magic flows in the air-
A divine being is on a silver stair;
With heart full of love from afar,
And the door to heaven is still ajar!
At her gaze, are moonbeams falling,
From deep shadows, hope is calling,
When the sunset is no longer red,
And the weary world's asleep in bed.
Ever keen to aid an earthly plight,
She dreams her dreams in the light;
And guides us towards eternal bliss,
For it is the quality that we miss!
An angel's carol sparkles in darkness,
Lending beauty to its ebony starkness.
The wondrous Christmas tale is retold,
With all the joy of glory days of old!
I often pause to question the tale:
What if his ambition was to fail?
I have wondered how the story turns,
And what the modern world from Icarus learns.
If Icarus had flown too low,
To drown beneath the undertow;
We wouldn't call him Dreamer, bright and bold,
Just a pathetic failure, sharp and cold.
He'd be the villain of a reckless flight,
A fool who chose the endless night.
I know this judgment, and now I agree,
Because that alternative Icarus is me.
I chose the ocean's massive size,
And due to this, I drowned in lies.
I flew too close, too lost in commotion,
Drowning in the sheer, wrong misery of the ocean.
Not living myself, not truly free,
I let the water overpower me.
I sank. Not in a blaze, but in a shameful quiet,
The wings, someone else's, had started to riot.
They dissolved like mist, the frame was failing,
Feathers around me, darkness prevailing.
I hit the floor. I knew my end.
But broken things can always mend.
One day I am gonna grow wings.
And forget the pain that sorrow brings.
Wings of my own forging, made from the core,
I will leave this cold, dark ocean floor.
I will choose the fire, though it brings the end,
For the sun's high grace, I will gladly contend.
I will burn just to show I can.
To finally test my new wingspan.
I trade the coldness of the crushing depth,
For the last, bright gasp of my burning breath.
I plant my feet firm on this ground
And declare with every breath in my body—
Never again.
Never again will I shrink myself
To fit into spaces not built for my expansion.
Never again will I dim my light
To make others comfortable in their darkness.
Listen—
My body remembers every time I said "yes" when I meant "no."
My spirit carries the weight of every boundary I failed to set.
My heart bears the scars of each person I allowed to take
Without ever giving back.
So today I whisper, then speak, then shout:
Never again.
I am learning that self-care isn't selfish.
It's the sacred act of tending to a garden long neglected,
Pulling weeds of doubt planted by those
Who were threatened by my potential bloom.
I am understanding that healing
Isn't always gentle streams and soft landings.
Sometimes it's the thunder clap of "enough!"
Sometimes it's walking away from the table
Where I was always hungry but never fed.
I am remembering that my worth
Was never found in their validation.
It was always here, crawling beneath my skin,
Waiting for me to listen closer.
So I sever ties with places that cage me,
Let corrupt opinions fade out until they no longer phase me
With voices that diminish me,
With people who love the parts of me they've invented
But resent who I truly am.
And when they ask why I've changed,
When they wonder where the version of me went
That always bent to breaking—
I will stand tall in my truth and say:
Because I've made a promise to the child in me
Who deserved protection.
To the dreamer in me who deserved space.
To the lover in me who deserved reciprocity.
Never again will I betray myself
For temporary peace.
Never again will I accept crumbs
When I deserve the feast.
Never again will I apologize
For taking up the space my soul requires.
This is my boundary.
This is my healing.
This is my declaration.
And I speak it into existence with each breath:
Never.
Again.
Always sad to see descendants of slaves with chains around their necks and wrists.
Some of my ancestors were hunted down, kidnapped, confined, sold, raped, flogged, exploited, gagged, tortured, executed, massacred, and dehumanized for centuries on the slave plantations of the Caribbean.
Too many dark skins were forced to curse their melanin, prostituting themselves on the dilapidated sidewalks of servitude.
Too many traitors among Afro-descendants.
Western prisons profit from carceral negrophobia.
Racialist statistics like the supremacist articles of the Code Noir.
I will not kneel for the death of a macaque who believed in the racist ravings of the West.
I no longer bow to their God since I read the Code Noir and the papal bull of the pedophile slave trader Nicholas V.
I am at war; I see the world through an ethnic prism, like the apostles of the Ku Klux Klan.
I loathe miscegenation when I reread the tragic accounts of the horrors of the savagery of slavery.
I do not raise my fist to the sky like a Black Panther.
I would rather brandish a Soviet Kalashnikov to defend my dignity on barren lands hostile to my Africanness.
I fiercely believe in the salutary brutality of violence.
You who read me are suicidal if you seek comfort in the rawness of my death-obsessed ravings.
I am neither a poet nor a dreamer.
I live the daily life of a hardened criminal in the labyrinths of the illicit.
I cannot recount the offenses of my judicial pedigree.
A worshiper of the principles of Omertà.
I am an angel if you mind your own life without poisoning mine.
I have never loved; I do not believe in love; my life is not glamorous.
Human beings worship the sweetness of lies over the warmth of truth.
Everything is clear in the stench of my incurable wounds.
Everything is written in the darkness of my indelible scars.
I am a free man.
I am not racist; it’s just that I don’t like your ugly mug.
I won’t tell you; you’ll know it by watching the flames of hell writhing in the depths of my eyes reddened by suffering.
My forebears survived the overcrowding of slave ships only to be displayed on counters by slave traders.