Long Fantasydream Poems
Long Fantasydream Poems. Below are the most popular long Fantasydream by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fantasydream poems by poem length and keyword.
A BUTTERFLIGHT’S MR. RIGHT
Last night was television and going to sleep at eight
You were exhausted even though it wasn’t very late
So upon your pillow placed placidly lay comforted by soft
Until your weakened eyes closed and dreams lifted you aloft
In the dream you can’t really fly but it feels as if you do
Everything was vivid, the violet, the green and the blue
Flowers were everywhere and you cherished each one
While subconsciously you prayed this dream would never be done
Little children’s laughter echoed through the city where ever you went
And when angels whispered in your ear you knew not what they meant
You were headed for Mrs. Lopez’s little bodega where everything’s on sale
And she always has an amusing anecdote and laughs at herself after each tale
Milk, eggs, bread, butter and all that’s essential
And then the angels whispered, “this day has potential”
You headed home confused by what the seraphim had said
But in reality you were sleeping snuggled in the warmth of your bed
So back to the dream and it’s glorious end
With nary a scene no one need mend
You finished purchasing everything you’ve penned
Alas on the way home you dropped a package and a handsome man said “Pardon me but I’ve
a hand to lend”
And suddenly you recall what the angels said and you began to understand
And pictured this perfect pair sitting atop a dune carved out of sand
It was either the Mediterranean or the Caspian Sea
As you walked shoeless and he whispered, my sweet, it’s just you and me
With a wink and a yawn you awake in the very same bed
But still wondering about those angels and what they had said
Still you arose to shed lingerie for a lovely little skirt and a sweater
You tell yourself it was just a dream but reality would be much better
So that morning you were walking to work still wondering all along
It doesn’t matter what those angels said because even they can be wrong
Suddenly you drop your briefcase when you see a handsome man begin to bend
And then those angels made your Mr. Right say, “Pardon me, but I’ve a hand to lend”
© 2011.…phreepoetree
Girl, the worst kind of butterfly to be is in a collection smooshed between two panes of glass in
someone‘s beautiful collection …..don’t let happen to you!
A strange dream awoke me. With glazed eyes, I surveyed
that about me. What happened to my bed! My night attire
had been replaced by outdoor clothing layered so to find comfort
in all kinds of weather. Spinning around, I noted that I was not even
in a bedroom. I was outside with pavement, trees, a bird taking to flight.
Maybe, I was still asleep. Had I found another dimension! Reality
and sanity combined to deny foolishness. Perhaps, if I shut my eyes
for a few moments, open them rapidly, I would be back in bed again.
I tried that, I really did! To no avail! I was in a somewhere street.
Stubbornly, I walked down the weather baked pavement, thinking
to walk through the exit of my bedroom to another room. I know, a
silly thought! But, I was determined to leave a strange new dream and
then really awake, still in bed. The pavement won. I kept walking.
“Hey, be careful on that bike, there’s a car coming,” I cautioned a
child wobbling from side to side on a shining new looking bike.
I’ve seen her before, I thought, but this is only a dream, something
my mind made up….”Oh, well.” She was gone before I could take
another look. I walked on without choice of direction; the pavement
continued but one way and effort to divert the path failed. So strange!
Finally! Coming to the street corner, I had two directions to decide upon.
The upper part of my body turned one way and my feet chose the other.
Again, no choice! Somehow, I didn’t mind this forceful urge. The houses
on both sides were not complete strangers; it’s as if they smiled at my
presence as I passed, at least it so seemed. Smiling doors, nonsense!
Keep walking, I thought. Maybe, my old real dream is ahead.
One house held my attention. Possibly, it was due to an exuding aroma.
It was a pleasant food aroma and I stopped to enjoy recall of then,
It was a familiar sensation “from the past,” a reminder felt of some
dreams that were common long ago. This door also smiled! Except, that,
unlike the others, this door opened and a woman’s familiar voice called out,
“Honey, come in, dinner’s ready.”
Form:
Shifting Sands, ( A Collaboration Constance ~Rambling Poet )
by~ CONSTANCE
And in this dream . . . I am lost in endless sand . . .
Where clouds rise and disappear
A land of shifting and sultry heat
Where the ground ripples like waves at sea . . .
Magical, mysterious and mirage filled
It stretches to the horizon and beyond
The wind blows my white gown like wings
My veil falls to reveal long black hair, billowing . . .
I watch him coming over the yellow sand
His Arabian horse galloping . . .
I am breathless with my love for him
No sound can be heard but that wind thundering
And the sand shifting . . .
Part 2
And in this dream .. . I am, still lost, in endless sand . . .
Falling, endlessly
Into his Arabian eyes, I float
My feet interlocking with the shifting sand
This dream, I managed to catch
From the dream catcher's arms . . .
I wrap myself, in a blanket of yellow sand
Refusing, to open my eyelids
To the Universal Consciousness of morning light . . .
I swim the river, I sink in the quick sand
I hold on tight to this mirage
A place where, I create
Whatever future and destiny, I desire . . .
In this dream, I walk across the sands
In the dead of night
I am here, my mind, so far, lost .
Counting every breath, I reach out to touch his hand . . .
We gallop across the shifting sands
Nestled beside him, my head pressed against his chest
In this dream, my eyes are closed tight
I only see the shifting horizon, over and over
A million times and a million times, again
A Collaboration with *Constance A Rambling Poet
~MY COLLABORATION CONTEST~
Realm of Dreams
I dream for I am mad
and all my passions have danced and leaped
while I have slumbered, but I have had
no rest, though I have slept.
Wild and fantastic places have kept pace
with the ordinary and those that glisten
and the mind has been as if in a race
to explain itself to those who will listen.
Come to the land where reason does not live
and travel how you will through the winding lanes
that stretch out before you and falsely give
the impression that you are secure and are holding the reigns.
For you can be sure that in its time
the dream will turn and push you through high gates
and floundering, you will fight to correct the sign
that points to the sane but where confusion awaits.
Then comes the day where dreams mist over
and questions are answered with truth,
where dreams are weighed but hide in cover
till night comes again to assail with claw and tooth.
And dreaming dreams of nonsense and of reason
will pass yet again into the land that is haunted
with the ghosts of every past season
and rules of gibberish are flaunted.
To wake again and find the strength
of will that will allow another desperate chance
at normality or fail and lay your length
upon the floor on which you dance.
And if to succeed in this just quest,
to slumber lightly and dream sweet nonsense,
it can seem slight to some but the best
of the endings in a life of merry happenstance.
Form:
I walk on out in the evening,
When the stars all tell their stories.
This mystic land speaks of meaning,
As I ponder, their wonder speaks their glories.
When the stars all tell their stories,
My eyes open to a hidden world.
As I ponder, their wonder speaks their glories,
Of their magic and their history unfurled.
My eyes open to a hidden world,
When the planets once ruled the day.
When their magic and their history unfurled,
The secrets of history were on display.
When the planets once ruled the day,
I saw Saturn and Venus dancing with Mars.
The secrets of history were on display,
And the sun and moon controlled the stars.
I saw Saturn and Venus dancing with Mars,
But these were really the spirits of old.
Now the sun and moon controlled the stars,
When I looked deeper their stories were told.
These were really the spirits of old,
That gave birth to sons of gods.
When I looked deeper their stories were told,
That make us look like a bunch of sods.
They gave birth to sons of gods,
That reoccur in our dreams today.
They make us look like a bunch of sods,
To dream of truth is to find the way.
This place reoccurs in our dreams today,
This mystic land speaks of meaning.
To dream of truth is to find the way,
Then you’ll walk on out in the evening.
THE DREAM STORE
As I glide along the avenue
dipping low
this sign
“The Dream Store”
comes into view
Just imagine!
It says -
“Dreams Collected
Arranged
Labeled
We set the stage
You Are The Actor”
And then one other sign
In big red letters
“SALE”
Incredible!
The owner is overstocked!
I’d like a mountain scene with a very green meadow
sheep horses a cow or two
a stony brook
bubbling
gurgling
All these scenarios
laying arranged
billowing on a flat plane
Hundreds
Your choice
“The Dream Store”
Ah, what fantasy!
I circle round
and round
now quite low
at times scraping the ground
I can see it
“The Dream Store”
But
Though I endlessly persevere
I cannot find the door
Gart Williams has an occupation in New York City.
He works for a very prominent advertising agency.
However, things have not gone well recently.
His boss is one who is not known for patience.
At a meeting, Mr. Mizrow voiced his loquacious vehemence.
It seems relations with the boss went south
when Gart said to him: “Fat boy, why don’t you shut your mouth?”
It could have easily been the end of his career.
Luckily, Mr. Mizrow wished for him to stay around here.
Gart, how did you get into a rut such as this?
He keeps reminding you of a “push, push, push business”.
Perhaps advertising was not the right scenario for you.
A change to a slower and idyllic lifestyle is overdue.
On the commuter train home, in a dream you would see
such a town of your wishes known as “Willoughby”.
You described your dream in detail to wife Jane.
She thought you were lackadaisical and possibly insane.
Well Gart, there is no such stop as Willoughby along the line.
If you attempt of get off there, things will not be too fine.
Sometimes, we would all like to visit a place called Willoughby.
However, you must keep your feet planted in reality.
Based on the Twilight Zone episode "A Stop At Willoughby".
Dream Catcher
Here is a story that is told from time to time,
About a dream catcher, who could inter your mind.
Soon after you fall asleep, you inter a new world,
Your mind begans to wonder, about this special girl.
She looks so fine there standing, out stretched arms to me,
A smile that has no ending, blue eyes just like the sea.
As we drew closer togather, she seemed to drift away,
My out stretched arms could not reach her, though i heard her say.
You will have to come back in this dream, and try another day.
Your mother is calling you for school, so you must be on your way.
I felt some one shake me, saying are you in there,
It was just bad timeing , when she was o so near.
The next time i may catch her, there in my dream,
Hold her close in my arms,even though its not what it seems.
when a dream seeped
into a dome of light,
I was already leaping
with tale of grand sights
I was falling into
days consciousness
but a demonic spell
had begun to possess
in a depth of sleep
in the quietest dark,
I felt a presence
slide to make a spark
a nightmare of jowls
shadowed his face,
then his slimy fingers
stuck into my grace
he took my thoughts
on a hellish ride,
I was hoping my mind
didn’t burst open wide
the torture of angels
struggling on the racks,
was matched by the faeries
whip-marks on their backs
the mushrooms of love
had fungus and warts,
a cathedral of dreams
slipped out of all thought
with unicorns hobbled
and chains on their legs,
the elves head bandages
held together with pegs
the beautiful sights
I had run back to tell,
was lost in a nightmare
as I was living in hell
but endless this horror
well, it wasn’t to be,
as I write this poem
that dream is set free
but that’s not to say
that it wont return,
as I sleep in the night
dreams start to burn
"I dreamt, I was a butterfly or was I, a butterfly dreaming...."
~
With regal grace of a Swan,
I dance amid dew drops.
Where enfolds a dream slipped by,
one each in a sweet Tulip.
~
Within this field of flowers,
beckons all that could be.
All the entrancing beauty,
steeped, in wishes mystique.
~
Their subtle scent enrapturing,
of my drifting,sensibilities.
Enticing me to believe,
each bloom could be reality.
~
The enchanting pull is silken,
as cool water, on sun kissed skin.
A delightful feel of welcome,
from each bloom, as I peer in.
~
I chance to sip the sweetness,
from a velvet petaled cup.
The vibrant hue I tasted,
a dream I had given up.
~
Fascinating, how time will fly,
within the stage of REM sleep.
A captivating thrall I need,
within a dream I want to keep.
Paula Swanson
7/10/2011
For the contest:
Day Dreams and Dreams and Dreams
Sponsored by Constance La France
Placement: 1st