Related quotes: I didn't think I was...

Dear Boy

I didn't think I was in love with you, and I know I don't want to be now.
Until I started to dream of you, I always had a way to keep you out.
You're back in again, my old best friend; I start to wonder too, do you dream of me like I do of you?
Did you see me in your house, wearing nothing much or anything.
Did you walk with me on that boat, sitting at our table all alone.
Were you eating in my house? Arguing at my front door?
Driving away, with the thought at bay, "do I love her anymore? "
Was it you in blue in my bedroom after the homecoming dance?
All those times, I couldn't see your face, but then I felt your embrace.
Or do you dream of someone else, the prettiest girl you've ever seen, way prettier than me.
Does she have chocolate hair, golden curls, and a wonderful way with words?
Is she better than me at everything, captain of the volleyball team,
She's going to be your prom queen?
Well she'll never know as much as me.

poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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Related quotes

Circulation

And all at length are gathered in.
--LOUISE BOGAN

By the time I came around to feeling pain
and woke up, moonlight
flooded the room. My arm lay paralyzed,
propped up like an old anchor under
your back. You were in a dream,
you said later, where you'd arrived
early for the dance. But after
a moment's anxiety you were okay
because it was really a sidewalk
sale, and the shoes you were wearing,
or not wearing, were fine for that.

"Help me," I said. And tried to hoist
my arm. But it just lay there, aching,
unable to rise on its own. Even after
you said, "What is it? What's wrong?"
it stayed put -- deaf, unmoved
by any expression of fear or amazement.
We shouted at it, and grew afraid
when it didn't answer. "It's gone to sleep,"
I said, and hearing those words
knew how absurd this was. But
I couldn't laugh. Somehow,
between the two of us, we managed
to raise it. This can't be my arm
is what I kept thinking as
we thumped it, squeezed it, and
prodded it back to life. Shook it
until that stinging went away.

We said a few words to each other.
I don't remember what. Whatever
reassuring things people
who love each other say to each other
given the hour and such odd
circumstance. I do remember
you remarked how it was light
enough in the room that you could see
circles under my eyes.
You said I needed more regular sleep,
and I agreed. Each of us went
to the bathroom, and climbed back into bed
on our respective sides.
Pulled the covers up. "Good night,"
you said, for the second time that night.
And fell asleep. Maybe
into that same dream, or else another.

I lay until daybreak, holding
both arms fast across my chest.
Working my fingers now and then.
While my thoughts kept circling
around and around, but always going back
where they'd started from.
That one inescapable fact: even while
we undertake this trip,
there's another, far more bizarre,
we still have to make.

Anonymous submission.

poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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Like a Dream

Like a dream you came into my life,
and like a dream I shall treat you,
in the forest of the second hand emotion,
I lost the battle to you,
but never could I put you aside,
even when you couldn't care when I cried,
you never showed up when I tried,
to break the world wherein you reside.

like a dream you loved me,
and like a dream I shall love you,
in the traffic of silver cars and golden planes,
I gave up my search for you,
gave up my dream for you,
a non entity,
a non dreamer I called you,
thought we would one day meet,
in lovers' street,
by the lanes of a dream,
along the pool of romance,
thought we would dance,
our last dance.

like a dream you saw me,
and like a dream I shall see you,
but don't you call me back,
to swim in your river of madness,
or jump in the joy of your sadness,
love me or hate me,
respect or insult me,
it won't affect me,
for like a dream you have forgotten me,
and like a dream I must forget you.

poem by Rinki Nandy
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Song

I came to the door of the House of Love
And knocked as the starry night went by;
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"It is I."

And Love looked down from a lattice above
Where the roses were dry as the lips of the dead:
"There is not room in the House of Love
For you both," he said.

I plucked a leaf from the porch and crept
Away through a desert of scoffs and scorns
To a lonely place where I prayed and wept
And wove me a crown of thorns.

I came once more to the House of Love
And knocked, ah, softly and wistfully,
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"None now but thee."

And the great doors opened wide apart
And a voice rang out from a glory of light,
"Make room, make room for a faithful heart
In the House of Love, to-night."

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Everybody dreams.

Everybody dreams.
Children dream,
Adults dream,
Old people dream.

I dream, too.

I dream about the friends with whom I'll grow old,
I dream about the person whose hands I'll hold,
I dream about being young and in love,
I dream about loved ones, looking down from above.

I dream of the places I'll one day see,
I dream of being wild and free,
I dream of my house, high on the rocks,
I dream of the sand underneath my socks.

I dream of the people I'd love to greet,
I dream of the things I'll say when we meet,
I dream of hearing their voices sing,
I dream of being happy with everything.

I dream of travelling with a map in my hand,
I dream of never coming back to this land,
I dream of finding myself - in sense
I dream of jumping far off this fence.

I dream of any things that one day I'll know,
I dream of the freedom: a dream I won't let go,
I dream of my future and marvel at my pride
As my heart is flying and singing inside.

poem by Twilight Whispers
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Dream In Color

You wake up to tell me
(That you're numb inside, that the feelings all have died)
You're praying and you're saying
(That you do believe, but I don't believe that's true)
Everything has always been there, nothing goes away that won't come back
You're living in a house of cards, and you're blowing down the stack
Chorus:
She sleeps under a rainbow, she won't dream in colour
(She don't dream in colour)
She thinks that her soul is painted grey or black and white
Sleeping under a rainbow she could dream in colour, dream in colour
(She don't dream in colour) tonight
Glass mirror, look in (I know it's hard to see, when the one you free is you)
Sleep walking, high talking
(But the colours aren't real and the things you feel don't last)
You sit there looking at the sunrise, not knowing if the day has come or gone
You're wondering why it turns you off, when it never turns you on
chorus
Picking at the lock on the front door, pulling at the shutters on the windows
But you're living in a house of shadows
(Solo)
Even tho' you're lonely you think it's you, sitting at that table set for one
You're waiting for the guest that never comes
chorus
She could dream in colour, she could
(Sleeping under a rainbow, dream in colour)
(repeats out)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Juliet, My Love My Dragon-fly

When I dream the dream of paradise
I see a picture of you
And when I dream the dream of love and care
I see a picture of us two

And when I dream a dream of loneliness
I see a shadow on the wall
Looking back at me like
I'm nothing at all

But those dreams a quickly chased away
When I wake up to a sunny day
And I see your pretty face right by my side

When I dream a dream of smiling
The room is full of you
And if I dream a dream of candy land
The sweetest thing is you

And if the nightmare comes along
To say its fond goodbyes
The thought of you will stop it
before those dreams arise

Because with you sharing my bed at night
My dream will always come out right
And tomorrow will always be another day

If I dream a dream while I'm awake
That dream will be of you
If I dream a dream of wedding cakes
I'll dream a dream of you

And when I dream a dream of a loving wife
That dream will be of you
And if I dream a dream of growing old
I'll be growing old with you

And if my dream were ever to come true
I know it will be because of you
And that's the reason that I love you so.

poem by Mbaimbai Phathutshedzo
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It Happens in the B.R. Families

'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Newport lie
That I roused from sleep in a huddled heap
An elderly wealthy guy.

His hair was graying, his hair was long,
And graying and long was he;
And I heard this grouch on the shore avouch,
In a singular jazzless key:

"Oh, I am a cook and a waitress trim
And a maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door!"

And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,
And he started to frisk and play,
Till I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,
So I said (in the Gilbert way):

"Oh, elderly man, I don't know much
Of the ways of societee,
But I'll eat my friend if I comprehend
However you can be

"At once a cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."

Then he smooths his hair with a nervous air,
And a gulp in his throat he swallows,
And that elderly guy he then lets fly
Substantially as follows:

"We had a house down Newport way,
And we led a simple life;
There was only I," said the elderly guy,
And my daughter and my wife.

"And of course the cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."

"One day the cook she up and left,
She up and left us flat.
She was getting a hundred and ten a mon-
Th, but she couldn't work for that.

"And the waitress trim was her bosom friend,
And she wouldn't stay no more;
And our strong chauffeur eloped with her
Who was the maid of the second floor.

"And we couldn't get no other help,
So I had to cook and wait.
It was quite absurd," wept the elderly bird.
"I deserve a better fate.

"And I drove the car and I made the beds
Till the housekeeper up and quit;
And the man at the door found that a bore,
Which is why I am, to wit:

"At once a cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."

poem by Franklin P. Adams
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A Day Of Sunshine

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
But there were ants, and gnats that bite,
The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight.

"Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?" --said mother, who sat on the steps and sang.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
A meadow I found, on my back I lay,
And sang what my spirit told me;
Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long,
To bask in the sun,--I fled with my song.

"In such blessed weather we can go barefoot,"--said mother,
as she pulled off her stockings.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I loosened a boat, on my back I lay,
While blithely the current bowled me;
But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose;
Enough was enough, and to land I chose.

"Now these are just the days to make hay in,"-- said mother,
as she stuck the rake in it.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play,
As cooling the breeze consoled me;
But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance,
And jumping, I cried: "'T is the Devil's own dance!"

"Yes, if the cows aren't sleek and shiny to-day, they'll
never be so,"--said mother, gazing up the hillside.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I dashed to the waterfall's endless play,
There only could peace enfold me.
The shining sun saw me drown and die,--
If you made this ditty, 't was surely not I.

"Three more such sunshine-days, and everything will
be in,"--said mother, and went to make my bed.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Goodbye Mine M.j.

A "Stranger in Moscow" told me that you've gone!
But is it true that you've gone my M.J.?
And with tears in my eyes I say goodbye my M.J.
You who feeds the eyes and the ears
And has graced our African soil
But why did you have to go, you "Smooth criminal"
When you know "They don't care about us"
Tell me, who will "Heal the world"?
Who will make it a better place for us?

Who will give to the poor once and again to their necessity?
Who will be there for them in their anguish and pain?
O', know you not that admired you are of those that hate you most
And did you have to go; or where you too lonely?
But you said "We're the world" that "You are not alone"
Then why did you have to go? And did you leave another "Thriller"
If no, then why choose to be "The man in the mirror"
Thus dirge and elegy now met in my heart. Why?

"Do you remember the time" we first met in my dream
And "The way you make me feel" with your "Childhood"?
Oh king of pop, my M.J., "I want you back"
And you "Got to be there" for me on my birthday
To sing me your song, "Don't stop till you get enough"
While "Rockin Robin and Ben" "Off the wall" till they "Scream"
For your love is magical because you're angelica
You are so wonderful because you're beautiful
You are indispensable because you're irreplaceable
And now I see the "Liberian girl" cry because you're "Speechless"
And upon our bodies the nighted color of mourning you. Why?
Alas death! Why taketh him away when all that look on him yet not satisfied?
O', let not the world lose another "Michael Jackson".
Michael I love you "Yesterday, today and forever."

May the spirit light your way
Through the land of the shadow
To the halls of eternal peace. Amen.

In the cabinet of my imagination, in the treasury of my reason, in the registry of my conscience, and in the council chamber of my thought, there shall you live forever.
I LOVE YOU MINE M.J.

poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Sky Song

The flower of the Alps told the seashell: "You're shining"
The seashell told the sea: "You echo"
The sea told the boat: "You're shuddering"
The boat told the fire: "You're glowing brightly"
The fire told me: "I glow less brightly than her eyes"
The boat told me: "I shudder less than your heart does when she appears"
The sea told me: "I echo less than her name does in your love-making"
The seashell told me: "I shine less brightly than the phosphorus of desire in your hollow dream"
The flower of the Alps told me: "She's beautiful"
I said: "She's beautiful, so beautiful, she moves me."

poem by Robert Desnos
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You Are Not A Fixture Inside A Lonely Room....

the wonderful times are gone
but soon they will come,
they too, like us, are going on a break
a vacation that
they too badly need,
somehow

you enter the door of the lonely house
when the wonderful times are gone
you sit on a chair, listen to the carpets
talk to the paintings, and take a cup of coffee
you look around, stare at the ceiling,
read the papers, and then watch the news

it is evening, you light at candle
at the dining table,
you cook and you eat yourself,
and then you undress yourself
look at your body in the mirror
it is still beautiful and then you
take a shower, wipe the water,
spray some perfume, drink a glass of water,
turn off the TV and the lights at the lawn
and then you sleep alone.

you dream.
so many dreams to still dream
but you do not wish to remember
each episode of this dream
too many loads to carry
so much to think about
so much imaginings
and you do not need them

time is too short
for so much sentimentalism

when the wonderful times were once here
you had a nice dance with her
you made love in the morning,
you smoke her cigar,
you drink and savor the taste of the
sweet and sparkling wine
you remember the joys of ejaculations
intellectually on the romantic stories you have read
beside her

the wonderful times are over now
you had it, you once had it all,
savor the memories
and then you must forget to begin again

you leave a house,
go on another destination
meet another love,
for love is the cure for love
when the heart breaks,
it is but of essence that it must heal itself
because that is life,
a thriving, a revival of this heart of fire
it beats a pulse, it makes you run
and never does it make you stay
like some kind of a fixture
in that lonely room.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ruined Maid

"O 'Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?
And whence such fair garments, such prosperi-ty?"-
"O didn't you know I'd been ruined?" said she.

-"You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,
Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;
And now you've gay bracelets and bright feathers three!"-
"Yes: that's how we dress when we're ruined," said she.

-"At home in the barton you said 'thee' and 'thou,'
And 'thik oon' and 'theäs oon' and 't'other'; but now
Your talking quite fits 'ee for high compan-ny!"-
"Some polish is gained with one's ruin," said she.

-"Your hands were like paws then, you face blue and bleak
But now I'm bewitched by your delicate cheek,
And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!"-
"We never do work when we're ruined," said she.

-"You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,
And you'd sigh, and you'd sock; but at present you seem
To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!"-
"True. One's pretty lively when ruined," said she.

-"I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,
And a delicate face, and could strut about Town"-
"My dear - raw country girl, such as you be,

Cannot quite expect that. You ain't ruined," said she.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Far Beyond the Stars

Am I the dream, or am I the dreamer?
Is everything as it seems?
Or is the grass really greener?
Examining my wounds and invisible scars
I wonder
If my real life is lived far beyond the stars

My senses lead me to a pond
Where I stared
Into the eyes of a stranger
The ripples waved and tore
But they couldn't break our bond
And back at me he stared
His eyes unaccustomed to danger

There I was, or so I think it was me
Looking at myself
In a storefront glass at the end of the street
When a different reflection appeared
I rubbed my eyes, then squinted and peered
In closer
Hoping the poser would have disappeared
But he didn't
He stood tall
His shoulders free from the weight of the world
His confidence had not taken a fall
He gave me a glance, a curious one
I assumed a runner's stance, a furious one
And bolted back to my home
Set well under the sun

When I walked through the door
I noticed the notepad I forgot on the table
It was by then five, or maybe four
I tried to read the clock, but was desperately unable
All at once I was overcome with fatigue
The room began to spin and I had to sit down
"You ran too much, " I said
"You're not in the league."
I continued,
"That's funny, you should jot this down."
I reached for the pad and felt more drowsy
I reached for the pen and felt more lousy
My eyes were so heavy, I couldn't defend

A noise at the door
It was five, maybe four
But it was me, walking through it again

Something was wrong
Something was wrong with my brain
Something, something that I couldn't explain
I tried lifting the pen, to no end
My strength snapped like a wafer
I mumbled, "I'll write that down later"
As my head hit the table
And I fell asleep on the paper

When I awoke, my bedroom door was closed
I stretched and I yawned on my pillow's rose
I slowly arose and suddenly froze
Where was my pad full of the notes?
The ones I used to promote the story I wrote?
I remembered
It was on the table in the other room
Relieved
I waved away the clouds of doom
I picked up the pad and smiled as I read
Of how the character actually thought
Something was really wrong with his head
Unaware
My words were the ‘something' he caught

"The irony is, " I said aloud
"He knows there's more, but he's full of doubt.
So he'll keep questioning existence
Over happy drinks behind bars
Even though
He wants to escape his bruises and scars
And live a better life far beyond the stars."
While my skill was attempting not to boast
A question burned in me
Indeed, it began to roast
I saw a plate beside the pen
And on it was a slice of toast
Next to a simile I put down on paper
My eyes hovered over them like gulls on the coast
They were the two pieces of a broken wafer…

poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaving

Tears on flushed cheeks,
stomping on the floor!
Her little hands are clenched as fists
her eyes are looking sore.

Mother's making sandwiches,
adds delicious filling
little blobs of salad cream,
these are really winning.

"So your going, " mother says,
"Have you any money?
I've made a lovely lunch
there's cake with fruit and honey"

Little girl is silent
takes the sandwiches
then goes out the front way,
still with rolling tears.

Sitting on the front step
she eats her picnic there
with teardrops in her eyes
and dirty fingernails,

then creeps around the back,
waits by the back door
asks mum very sheepishly,
"is there anymore? "

"You'd better come back in
and dry those weepy eyes,
there's fish and chips for supper
and the pudding will be nice."

poem by Ruth Walters
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My Simple Dreams

I dream someday
We will take a stroll on the strand
Walking hand in hand
We will feel the rising sun
"Let us walk toward the dawn of hope and trust."

I dream someday
We will spend the day at the park
Sitting side by side
Watching birds and butterflies
As we free ourselves from fears and doubts

I dream someday
You will stay by my side
Talking heart to heart
Reassuring we will never be apart
Celebrating the day 'cause we're still in love

I dream someday
I can open what I feel inside
Confessing eyes to eyes
Telling all my worries and sighs
As we start a new horizon of life

poem by Rose de Ramar
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The Encyclopaedia

"If I could set the moon upon
This table," said my friend,
"Among the standard poets
And brouchures without end,
And noble prints of old Japan,
How empty they would seem,
By that encyclopaedia
Of whim and glittering dream."

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Dream a Dream