Rem Poems | Examples

A Nightly Dose of REM

Written by Gail DeBole
on May 6, 2026
Updated on May 11, 2026

Here I go...returning to REM.
Most of the time, it acts like a friend.

REM deals with feelings that should be addressed
Before they become an unwelcome mess.

Some of the time, REM makes no sense.
Mired in mystery with a hint of pretense.

Other times, using recurring themes
It offers an outlet for feeling extremes.

REM often zigzags through my life's times
And reminds me of moments left behind.

When I awake, sometimes I muse
Over the people my dreams choose to include.

When I awake, sometimes I muse
Over the vagueness my dreams choose to include.

It's true that I only know REM from my dreams.
But it acts like a friend without malice or schemes.

Seemingly unsolvable problems REM solves for me.
Without REM, where would we be?

The REM Pillow

Written by Gail DeBole
On November 8, 2025
Updated on Dec. 9, 2025


REM protectively flows out
Into Cryptic mental fuzziness.

May make no Immediate sense.
May make no sense for a lifetime.

While still providing a
Soft or harsh pillow to a
Human soul.

Rem

We met so suddenly once in a dream,
I never know what they mean,
I knew you were real when you told me your name,
Like most dreams, I cannot remember.

Voices so familiar, not once before heard,
We'd never spoken a word,
Though enough to ignite, through the night, lovers' flame,
I awoke by the cruel dying embers

Rem

Light breaks the surface 
of my watery dream state
Now time to wake up

Rem

running in a dream
overture's in slow motion
dream catcher’s  night train

V-Day Poem

Seventy five years to the day
Where the country celebrated 
And memories were made. 

A day of happiness when the news
Came through, cos emotions were high
But feelings were blue. 

Soliders lost friends, comrades they
Called family, our country remembers 
The sacrifice that they went through, 
the fear, and unhappiness. 

So has the Soliders came home, crowd's 
Lined the streets, with bunting and flags
Draped from windows in every city. 

V day was victorious and our country 
Is proud, generations come together
Even though were on lockdown. 

We raise up our glasses, and have our 
Two minute silence, we remember the day 
And what it means to all of us. 

Written by Bornfromthesoul

Rem

Rapid eye movement helps
               restore the dreaming mind,
         regenerating and
recharging its matter.
         Relax and prepare to
              recall subconscious realms,
                                          revisiting wonders.


4-15-2021
Pleiades R Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman

Rem

Sigmund sandy dreams
resolute mirthy incomes
tranquil playhouses

Rem Sleep

Late one night I did wrestle; with thoughts and dreams in R.E.M.'s gray matter vessel. Twisted words contorted visions melding together: how I wanted to wake. Held captive by R.E.M. He did thawart my escape. Struggle, fight, toss and turn gasping for breath trying hard to flee his gray matter vessel. Bursting out of the darkness my rescuer arrives her name is dawn and she holds no surprise. R.E.M. Cannot stand against dawns power; he loses his grip and I break free from his gray matter vessel and it's frightening keep.

Rem Changeling

She danced upon my sleepy knife-edge
Rem sleep concealed; my hollow tin ledge
Was the naked girl who stole my show

Labanotation echoed her tarred shamed knees
Free falling from grace, cumulating fees 
Have every my gutter pushed so low?

Integument tally, a dollar per pound
Rumoured lies within; no truth found
Flesh voucher paid in Bordeaux

So I flickered in though
Scar tissue hand did plough
My poured soda fountain flow

Rem

She was free to believe
Everything she was, Everything she could be
Did not just have to be a dream
That if she saw it, it was possible
So she knew she couldn't play it safe
Yet how could the possible seem so impossible
-------------------->She QuestionedSo she craved
Till she made her dream a living thing

Rem Dreams

REM dreams rerun
	the Saturday morning 
	Flash Gordons 
	of my sub-conscience
	on the backs 
	of my eyelids.

	The battle between 
	good and evil, 
	Flash versus Ming the Magnificent, 
	continues unabated 
	in the waking world,
	so I might as well 
	go back to sleep.

The Revision of Retro's Rem

Winters break; here, sitting at the study while thinking of years gone by; a curtain's
Drawn to hide the world; times heart not wishing their melancholy moments amid
Silver powder and black lace lies; casting it's gangrene dream's aside pastels pink...
Infused these red droplets, claiming to be blue; paper back novels trimmed in gold
Words, as colourful banners; sea gray sea; peering through stain-glassed window's
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..."The Revision, Of Retro's Rem" *

Email To Subby Conscience

(Gail's Note: Reply Email from Subby Conscience is the sequel to this.)

To: Subby Conscience
From: [email protected]
Re: Communication between You and Me
Date: February 4, 2012

Why isn't it easy to call you at will?
Couldn't I just Twitter or email you until
You provide the answer in clear, solid terms
So that I don't have to lie in your chaotic squirms?

Instead, you tug at my psyche
And laugh at my logic.
You taunt and tug at my struggles
And sap my dream tonic.
You expose my repression
While disguised as a friend
All the while sneaking around 
In my personal REM.

A swirl of feelings
Interferes with the theme.
Makes my heart pound and pound.
Makes it seem like a scheme 
To interrupt sleep 
And destroy my 8 hours.
To wither my psyche
And sap super powers.

And then comes the waiting
Sometimes for years
Of what this all means
Could it always be fear?

But unknown to you
Over time you are helping
To harness the pounding
And process all my days' yelpings
So that I can function in the AM and more
While you are repressed as
I cozily soar.

Published in PS: It's Still Poetry
Volume II

Rem Mode

In purple twilight of REM mode
where loss of reaction dwells.
Inner thoughts corrupt, corrode,
peaceful slumber, anxiety swells.

Eyes flutter trying to concentrate,
directing bodily forces, not there.
Focusing thought to force irate 
confrontation to the obtuse, fare.  

The scene comes and goes away,
we reach within our mind to grab it,
clinging, we emerge and sway,
between fact and fiction we emit.

Stop, let my true dream emerge,
Not some farcical, non real jam
woven from cognizant thought gurge.
Let me spin truth’s web of who I am.

® Sep 04 2010 Charles Henderson
Catagory: The dream of self
For Constance's "Fragmented Dream" contest

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