Hard Working Man (English ~Japanese version)
Work work work work!
Work work work work!
Work to accumulate!
Work to achieve!
Can you dare to live?
Far Far Far Far
Far Far Far Far
Far from a wife
Far from the kids
What a nightmare dream!
Dream! Dream Dream Dream
Dream! Dream Dream Dream
Stop stop dreaming
Start start living
Drag self out of dream!
Speak speak speak speak
Speak speak speak speak!
Open your mouth, open your heart
Could it be that hard? !
ハ ー ド ウ ォ ー キ ン グ マ ン
仕 事 仕 事 仕 事 仕 事 ！
仕 事 仕 事 仕 事 仕 事 ！
貯 め る た め に 働 け ！
成 し 遂 げ る た め に 働 け ！
あ な た は そ う や っ て 生 き て い く の か ？
遠 く 遠 く 遠 く 遠 く
遠 く 遠 く 遠 く 遠 く
妻 か ら 遠 く
子 ど も た ち か ら も 遠 く
な ん て 悪 夢 ！
夢 ！ 夢 夢 夢
夢 ！ 夢 夢 夢
夢 見 る こ と を 止 め る の を 夢 み る
生 き 始 め る の を 夢 み る
自 ら を 夢 か ら 引 き ず り 出 せ ！
話 す 話 す 話 す 話 す
話 す 話 す 話 す 話 す ！
口 を 開 け て 、 心 を 開 い て
そ ん な に 難 し い こ と だ ろ う か ？ ！
Translation by the kindness of a friend, Miyuki Kuroda, lots of thanks!
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The wall English and Japanese version
the Wall
Standing
In front of a wall.
Searching.
For my instinct.
One knock
I give.
For every
hint.
I try
to feel the wall
by touching it
with
my feet
my arms
my head
my heart..
All of the sudden
I feel
the greatest need
to hit
And kick? !
Inside of me
The wall is now!
Impossible
to tear it down.
But: Can I control
My Instinct! ?
Calling out to my mind
and heart-do it:
-Unite! ! - Unite! !
Here's a wall
to climb up
が ん ば れ ！ ！ Fight! !
........
And so,
I came
To win
another day
I climbed my wall
to the light for
one more day.
But night goes fast
Tomorrow
comes again
I wonder
what I'll get
Another
wall to climb
or..
a big hole..
ザ ・ ウ ォ ー ル
立 っ て い る
壁 の 前 に 。
捜 し て い る
私 の 本 能 を 。
ノ ッ ク を ひ と つ
私 は 与 え る 。
あ ら ゆ る ヒ ン ト の た め に 。
私 は 試 す
壁 を 感 じ る こ と を
私 の 足 で
私 の 腕 で
私 の 手 で
私 の 心 で
そ れ に 触 る こ と で …
突 然
私 は 感 じ る
最 大 の 必 要 性 を
打 つ こ と の
そ し て 蹴 る こ と の ？ ！
私 の 中 で
そ の 壁 が 今 ！
不 可 能 だ
そ れ を 取 り 壊 す こ と は 。
で も ： 私 は 自 分 の 本 能 を
制 御 す る こ と が 出 来 る の か ！ ？
私 の 理 性 と 心 に 叫 ん で い る
－ や れ 、 と ：
－ 一 体 に な る ん だ ！ ！ － 一 体 に な る ん だ ！ ！
こ こ に
登 る た め の 壁 が あ る
が ん ば れ ！ ！ フ ァ イ ト ！ ！
……
そ し て 、 そ
別 の 日
私 は 自 分 の 壁 に 登 り
さ ら な る も う 一 日 の た め の
光 に た ど り 着 い た 。
し か し 夜 は す ぐ に や っ て く る
明 日
再 び や っ て く る
私 は 不 思 議 に 思 う
何 が 私 に 別 の 壁 を 登 ら せ る の だ ろ う
そ れ と も …
大 き な 落 と し 穴 だ ろ う か …
A wonderful translation, by the kindness of my friend Miyuki Kuroda.
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
cherry tree (English and Japanese)
-Good morning sir!
To the man
who blocked her way
a little child said.
-Good morning
and good day
to you my girl!
May I ask some questions
dear?
-Dont know sir..Yes..Words..
I do not fear
-Are you alone?
-Maybe, don't know..
you may say so, sir
my parents gone
to clouds for so long..
-Where do you live?
-The forest is the place
I sleep..
-Aren't you scared to live alone?
Pardon me sir! I'm not living alone! ? !
That tree it is my sweetest company
And that other One, it feeds me
like a parent
no, I can not be lonely,
they also aren't..
Do you want something
or someone 'important'
to become?
one wish to tell me, do
so glad I'll be to make it happen,
promise you!
Oh sir, if that is really really true,
then please, please do!
Make me to be a cherry tree
and sir, forgive me please:
may you put me and my family
to land whose people care and
loves their most
for us, the cherry trees? !
That is to be Japan and Japanese,
you see? ..
桜 の 木
-お は よ う ご ざ い ま す お じ さ ん ！
彼 女 の 行 く 手 を ふ さ ぐ 男 性 に
小 さ な 子 ど も は 言 っ た
-お は よ う 、 い い 日 だ ね
お じ ょ う ち ゃ ん ！
君 に ち ょ っ と
聞 い て も い い か な ？
－ 分 か り ま せ ん ・ ・ は い ・ ･ 言 葉 は ・ ・
私 は 怖 が っ て ま せ ん
－ 君 は 一 人 ぼ っ ち ？
－ 多 分 、 分 か り ま せ ん ・ ・
お じ さ ん が そ う 言 う な ら そ う か も し れ ま せ ん
わ た し の 両 親 は と て も 長 い 間
雲 へ 行 っ て い る ・ ・
－ ど こ に 住 ん で い る の ？
－ 森 が 私 の 眠 る 場 所 ・ ・
－ 一 人 ぼ っ ち で 住 ん で い て 怖 く な い ？
-失 礼 で す が お じ さ ん 、 わ た し は 一 人 ぼ っ ち で は あ り ま せ ん 。
あ の 木 は 私 の 一 番 の 仲 良 し
そ し て あ の 他 の 木 は 、 私 を 養 っ て く れ て い る 。
両 親 の よ う に
い い え 、 私 は 孤 独 で は あ り ま せ ん 、
そ し て 木 々 た ち も ・ ・
君 は 何 か 欲 し い か い ？
そ れ と も 誰 か が ‘大 切 な 人 ‘に な っ
一 つ 願 い を 私 に 話 し て ご ら ん
喜 ん で そ れ を 叶 え よ う
約 束 す る よ ！
ま あ 、 お じ さ ん 、 も し 本 当 に 本 当 に そ う な ら
ど う か ど う か
私 を 桜 の 木 に し て く だ さ い
そ し て お じ さ ん 、 ど う か お 許 し を ：
私 と 家 族 を
人 々 が 私 た ち 桜 の 木 を よ く 世 話 し て く れ 、
最 も 愛 し て く れ る 土 地 に
置 い て く だ さ い ま す か ？ ！
そ れ は 日 本 と 日 本 人
お わ か り で し ょ う ？ ・ ・
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
soul painting （ English and Japanese）
What is the color
of my soul?
is it white
blue, green
or black?
What if I'd never know
constantly changing
-a chameleon?
What colors
should I use
to paint my soul?
If not a rainbow
then.. I shall
never know? !
ソ ウ ル ペ イ ン テ ィ ン グ
私 の 魂 の 色 は
何 色 ？
そ れ は 白
青 、 緑
そ れ と も 黒 ？
私 が 知 ら な か っ た ら ど う だ ろ う
常 に 色 を 変 え る こ と を
カ メ レ オ ン ？
何 色 を
私 の 魂 を ペ イ ン ト す る の に
使 う べ き ？
も し 虹 で な い な ら
そ う な ら ・ ・ ・ 私 は け っ し て 知 る こ と は な い だ ろ う ？
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
R.i.p
It’s a damn shame…
We still go through all…
This pain…
And a black man is…
The president of America…
And no re-vent…
What is white folks intent…
Can we just all get along…
Name calling…
Whites still stalling…
And readily balling…
Prayers…
Silence…
W hat happen to being…
Your own man…
But whites, black, reds, and brown…
What we gonna do…
To bring the hatred down…
Peace is a state of mine…
But sometimes that is a crime…
Gathering pride over time…
What we gonna do…
The best part of the world…
Is left up to you…
You know who you are…
whisperkwane
Swtlamb@y ahoo.com
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Light before Dying (Dark humor)
She had been through so much,
Still, the cancer had spread
Now six weeks into treatment
She's confined to her bed.
My wife's been a smoker
since she turned sixteen.
Through the years we were married
and the years in between.
Now though she breathes
like a fish brought to shore.
her long term addiction
had her craving one more.
Who am I to judge her
or deny her last wish.
She is not getting better,
I've no heart to resist.
I gave her the smokes
she had long put away
I gave her the lighter
and sought out her ash tray.
A tremendous explosion ripped
through our first floor.
It indeed had proved fatal
her request for one more.
on purpose or accident
I can't judge her intent
in choosing to smoke
in her oxygen tent.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Duet with a Peony
A dark red peony
Darker red than
The crown of a rooster
Swollen with pride
Stood on the grand piano
The petals fall
On the black and white ivories
I hear a quiet pianissimo tone
A haunting sense of emptiness
Soft and mysterious
Constant change of mood
The last piece of satin red petal
With hint of jazz
Morph into a smooth abscission
Like a saxophonist flirting the soft piano
I close my eyes
Red petals bursting up the piano keys
Like fireworks, a fleeting dream
Dazzling array of pianistic explosions
And me, duet with a dark red peony
Emma
To some, she was a dancer,
With magic steps to boot,
To some, a sweet romancer,
With classic smiles so cute.
To some, she was an actress,
Rehearsing what to say,
To some, a model in a dress,
On catwalks, hips to sway...
To some, she was a living doll
With whom to fall in love,
To some, she was an angel,
Or a fairy up above.
To some, she was their pride and joy,
The apple of their eye,
To some, a tricky tomboy,
A princess or a spy...
To some, she was astute, alert,
Whose heart was good as gold,
To some, she was a saucy flirt,
Outrageous and so bold...
To me, she was a rising star,
Quite heavenly, divine...
Well deserving of an Oscar
And to be my Valentine...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Outside the Windy City
Outside the Windy City
lives the Lady Finnegan -
Carol dearly loves the Lord Jehovah
and is a part of His earthly plan.
Her heart has been pierced
by God's Holy Spirit;
for she placed her life before Him
and has chosen to submit.
Her adoration for the King
has burst forth with heart's joy,
from reading her great nephew's literature
within the borders of Illinois.
Now she's become God's messenger
via her gifts of Joe's Christian poetry -
For the fragrance of God's Love
envelopes her with scriptural potpourri.
Blessed to be a blessing,
her friendship has touched me -
For we have found common ground
between kinship and a love of poetry.
Dedicated to my Great Aunt Carol Finnegan,
the sister of my maternal Grandmother Marguerite Massa.
poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Behind the Poem: Enoch
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I speak to a poem that ends in a direction, not initially considered...
I've attended Church services for more than 3.5 decades; as a youth, I was raised in a Baptist Church (in southern Maine) . For those unfamiliar with this division of Christianity, there's nothing more important than studying 'The Word of God'. And hear me - there is nothing inherently wrong with studying the Bible; it's one of those necessities as a Christian. And for me personally, it just wasn't enough. As much as I love The Word, having a real and personal relationship with Jehovah became more obvious and critical for my spiritual growth. Eventually, I found my way into the Pentecostal Church, got filled with the Holy Spirit and learned to speak in tongues. Accepting this gift (of tongues) raised my ability to build my relationship with Christ. In effect, it significantly improved the way I'm able to give praises to God and to talk with Him. I share this background information to give a flavor of my thought process (that influences my spiritual writings) - and not as a criticism for those who have not accepted this gift from God. (People who have read my poetry should readily agree that it's fairly evident that my writing is based on the Scriptures and does not contradict the basic tenets of the Christian faith.)
In order to remain within my profession of I.T. (Information Technology) , I've had to relocate to different U.S. states on the east coast. So I found myself living in southern Connecticut for about a decade. For more than three years, I attended this popular Church in Milford. Despite my own 'baggage', I was a productive Christian, giving my time, talent, tithe and offerings to the Church freely and whole-heartedly. As a result, I started to dream of how I could give more of myself to Him - to be able to give my entire life for God's purposes (as He intends for everyone) . My poetry manuscript was completed and blindly rejected by the Church - the clergy was not interested or curious about the 'Christian poetry' I had written. Undeterred, I had already started working on additional poetry manuscripts. Wanting more of Christ in my life, fascination with Enoch began to grow at this time; very little about him is shared in the Bible and I never thought to research him on the Internet. The pages of my Bible are written upon with notes, concepts and ideas as I studied The Word and listened to sermons throughout the years. And yet, I noticed how little commentary about Enoch was known to me in my notes. What did Enoch know that the rest of us fail to understand? At the beginning of the Wednesday evening service, parishoners are allowed to submit questions - to be addressed directly by the bishop, prior to the evening service. I had begun assembling my poem fragments and phrases, but had not started the construction of the poem itself. So one night I submitted a simple question: 'Why don't we know more about Enoch's life? '
I've come to learn that preachers are fickle creatures; they claim to be 'dead men' - people who are unoffendable when interacting with less knowledgeable individuals in spiritual matters. And yet, with my analytical brain and decades of Church experience, I naturally rub minsters against their grain. After all, 'iron sharpens iron' and my words catch on their spiritual burrs - which is something that ministers typically don't fully appreciate when dealing with me. My innocent submission uncovered an overly sensitive nerve, quickly made apparent by the bishop's unrighteous reaction to my inquiry. Instead of answering my question in a positive and forthright manner, he exploded into a contrite diatribe 'of how I suffered from an escapist's mentality'. Naturally I was unimpressed with his carnal response and came to the immediate conclusion that he didn't have a viable response. I'm fairly sure that this event wasn't lost on the congregation either; for when someone avoids answering a direct question, people can easily draw their own conclusions. When the time came for me to compose this poem, the minister's words were still grinding on my spirit - thus setting the tone of this work. Although different from my other poems, I can't say that I'm disappointed with the ending of my poem, given the actions of Christ's dealings with the Pharisees and Saducees. If anything, I've followed His earthly example. This poem is my reaction to the bishop's inability to provide me with a solution that I had sought.
P.S. Although there are other people who never experienced death, such as Elijah, who was taken to heavenly in a fiery chariot, Enoch was essentially snatched away by the 'Hand of God', so that 'he was no more'. No other documentation exists, that details those who prevented their physical death in this particular way.
poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Remembrance of Grandma - Poem & Background
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I share the background and poem 'In Remembrance of Grandma'.
I recognize that most of you reading this article will not know much about my maternal Grandmother, other than what you're able to glean from this page. However, there are universal lessons that need to be shared. This poem was originally written for her funeral.
For nearly forty years, I was blessed to have known my grandparents; blessed - because many people don't have the opportunity to know their family history personally from those who came before them. Within about one decade, mine were all gone - with my maternal grandmother being the last one to die. Of the four of them, I had spent the most time with her. My grandmother had moved to Portland, Maine; this came about as the result of two significant events in her life. First, her husband Al Massa died unexpectedly; second, her oldest daughter (and my mom) had gone through a divorce. So they decided to purchase a home jointly and move on with their lives. Also living with them was my aunt Tina, my mother's younger sister.
My grandmother was an intelligent woman; she was one of those people who completed the New York Times crossword puzzles - in ink and usually in under an hour. And she grew some of the most beautiful roses in her tiny backyard. It was wonderful to see the joy in her eyes when it came to her flowers. The problem was that she was heart-broken when Al passed away; for decades they would go dancing at night, just to hold one another more often. With him gone, she stopped living for herself. Less than a year from his retirement, her husband died on the picket line at work. Although I can only imagine her grief, it was difficult to see the affects of this tragedy slowly eat away at her soul. She rarely left her home, with the exception of going to Church, the grocery store or some of the neighbors' homes a few times during the month. She and Al were to go to Hawaii for a second honeymoon, but she could not bear to go there without him. In The Word, we are essentially reminded that 'people without vision perish' (and yes, I know that there are variations of interpretation of this concept) . Despite our ability to absorb pain, we must learn to move forward in life and not let the pain consume us.
For many years, she smoked cigarettes and was unwilling to give them up. She did so eventually; my mother moved out of their house, Tina got married; she and her husband lived with my grandma. Tina and husband Greg started their own family, raising three boys - thus giving her the incentive to quit. As most everyone knows, smoking increases one's risk of having cancer. My family were under the impression that she had managed to escape the misery of that disease. Less than two weeks from her death was when most of the family learned that she had contracted cancer and emphysema.
Although I understand and appreciate the need for privacy, it was selfish of my grandmother not to share the condition of her health. Her justification for not telling anyone, was that she had decided not to go through with the cancer treatment. By not telling us, she figured that no one would be given the opportunity to dissuade her from her decision. After all, it was her decision (and rightfully so) . Before she died, Tina started quickly gathering information about cancer - to better learn about what to expect regarding the few remaining days of her mother's life. One cancer brochure shocked her; as a result of reading the material, she was now having to deal with guilt. This particular pamphlet laid out symptoms and patterns of human behavior of those suffering from this fatal disease - stuff that Tina had observed, but never realized the meaning of until it was too late. So in effect, my grandmother caused her family more pain by not sharing. In addition, not everyone who cared about her, had enough time to say good-bye (while she was alive) .
Although I had time to compose this brief poem in her honor, I did not have enough time to process my grandmother's death fully (prior to the service) . I was supposed to read the following poem and share a few words. To my surprise, I was choked up with immense grief, which kept me from delivering my eulogy; my wife kindly stepped in and presented the poem. One of my brothers was extremely upset for my inability to talk on behalf of my grandmother; so he spoke on my family's behalf. It's one of my few regrets in life; however, she was the only grandparent of mine that got to read my poetry manuscript. Less than two months before her death, she had taken time read my poetry and was pleasantly pleased with my efforts. During her appraisal of my work was the first time I learned that she wrote poetry - as of today, I've never gotten to read a line of poetry that she wrote. So it breaks my heart not to know what she composed, as well as not being able to share any more of my writing with her. And so here is my tribute for her...
In Remembrance of Grandma
A manicured garden
of colored, cultured roses
now goes untended.
For Marguerite has been freed
of all mortal constraint;
left behind
is a silver trowel
and dancing shoes,
as her spirit flies
to the Hawaiian shore
for pirouetting barefoot
on the seashell sand.
Goodbye Grandma Massa; I miss you already.
(18 June 2006)
poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Will Have To Work Hard
I will have to work hard
I will have to work hard
This world is a mischief, full of hazards
I can not sleep, i may not be in the womb
A dream is nourishing, smoldering like a bomb
People are racing towards a dark cave
This dream is heady, but not a dupe slave
An eye in a dream or a dream in an eye
Hatched in black, exploring a blue sky
It is still tidy, doesn't need any nard
I will have to work hard
I will have to work hard
It is clean, It is holy
empowered by God
It's soul is almighty with healthy bod
A long way to go, a long way to go
Wings are mature, now ground is below
never weary, never desire a bard
I will have to work hard
I will have to work hard
poem by Mayur Gupta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Speak With Kindness (Or Do Not Speak At All)
speak with kindness,
or do not speak at all.
speak not of judgement,
you are not the judge.
speak not of salvation,
let your living be your scriptures.
speak not of scriptures,
let your actions be your holy book.
speak not as apostle or teacher,
speak as a human being.
speak not of god,
then god will speak through you!
speak not as a man,
for you are woman too.
speak not with hateful malice,
for love does not work that way.
speak not as a prophet or seer,
speak as compassion made flesh.
speak not of morality,
speak of connection.
speak not of authority,
the tree and the leaf have just as much.
speak not of holiness,
for all that lives be holy.
speak with kindness...
or do not speak at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Are You To Me?
(Day dream...day dream...)
Day dream...(day dream...)
So many times i've overfloated
So many faces come and go
I played my cards into the sun
and tried to work out
What you are to me
Been here before
A million open doors
Only one would set me free
So i fought against the wall
And tried to work out
What you are to me, to me, to me, to me...
To me......
Beside my eyes
The answer lies
Something i can't see
Another day
Another way
So they say to me, to me
To me..., to me..., to me...
(what's wrong?)
To me... (to me...)
To me... (to me...)
To me... (to me...)
To me... (to me...)
song performed by by Unkle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dont Talk To Me About Work
A perfect day to get out of bed
Shower, dress, shave, kiss you on the head
Then I hit the office and my head starts to swim
A perfect day to just walk around
See a violent movie, check the sounds
But even on the street
When I hear a phone ring my heart starts to beat
When I get home I dont want you to speak
Dont talk to me about work
Please dont talk to me about work
Im up to my eyeballs in dirt
With work, with work
How many dollars, how many sales
How many liars, how many tales
How many insults must you take in this one life
Im in prison most of the day
So please excuse me, if I get this way
But I have got obligations to keep
So be very careful when you speak
Dont talk to me about work
Please dont talk to me about work
Im up to my eyeballs in dirt
With work, with work
Please dont talk to me about work
Dont you talk to me about work
Im up to my eyeballs in dirt
With work, with work
Dont talk to me about work
Dont you talk to me about work
Dont you talk to me about work
Please dont talk to me about work
Dont you talk to me about work
Please dont talk to me about work
Dont you talk to me about work
Please dont talk to me about work
Dont you talk to me about work
Please dont talk to me about work
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Down At The Arcade
A Perfect day to get out of bed
Shower, dress, shave, kiss you on the head
Then I hit the office and my head starts to swim
A perfect day to just walk around
See a violent movie and check the sounds
But even on the street when I hear a phone ring my heart starts to beat
When I get home I don't want you to speak
Don't talk to me about work
Please don't talk to me about work
I'm up to my eyeballs in dirt -
With work, with work
How many dollars
How many sales
How many liars
How many tales
How many insults must you take in this one life
I'm in prison most of the day
So please excuse me if I get this way
But I have got obligations to keep -
So be very careful when you speak
Don't talk to me about work
Please don't talk to me about work
I'm up to my eyeballs in dirt -
With work, with work
Don't talk to me about work
Please don't talk to me about work
I'm up to my eyeballs in dirt -
With work, with work
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dreaming
You were high above me
popular;
your family had money.
The girls
chased you
brazenly,
but I thought
just maybe
your eye
caught mine
but could not risk
being wrong
could not face Risk's Rejection.
Maybe it is something
I am imagining..
But it has become my dream;
You and I.
A secret dream
which I cannot share
with anyone
because if I do
people will laugh.
I told my best friend
and she said 'Wow'
Over and over again.
but she had no comment
for me
or encouragement.
I then knew
my Reality Test Score
came back
Negative.
How to dream
if you can't have the dream
you want to dream?
What is the use of dreaming
if what you want in dreaming
is forbidden?
I can hold on to it if I desire
but this becomes the standard
for what is for me desirable.
How to embrace
anyone
or anything less
without it seeming
a Coming Down
from what
my dream
says is best?
'Well, ' my Mom said
'You know you are allowed
more than one dream.
There will be others
and they will be there
for you to work toward;
yours to get.'
And true I did get
more than one dream
and you know dear
I did have a better dream
and that dream is you.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Office Work
Work, work, work..
sitting effort,
on a chair
empty screen,
emotive stare
Work, work, work...
slunched shoulders,
side by side
warming ocean,
stolen pride,
Work, work, work...
hey man,
you man,
ant-field flys
pergatory,
promotion,
pitch-fork eyes.
Work, work, work...
college loving,
take me back,
drunk lace orgy,
primrose sack
Work, work, work...
day dream,
day stare,
simple soul.
Drop your complexity
and know,
your,
role.
Copyright (c) David DeSantis
poem by David DeSantis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Inspiration Dream
At night
When I am asleep
I dream so many things
That are inspiring
I dream of poverty ending
I dream of everyone finding work
I dream of becoming an accomplished writer
These are just a few of my inspiring dreams
I dream during storms
I dream during the day
I dream in gardens
I dream daily and nightly
Dreams are like stars
They appear and disappear
Each and every day
And everyone rich and poor
Famous and not famous
Have their own dreams
That they want to achieve
So go after your dreams
And let them inspire you
poem by Emily Krauss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!