The Night Dream (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
It had been a dream but seemed much too real;
her eyes, her voice,
had a quiet kind of lovely quality,
even her poise
had maturity, some kind of gentleness,
with no noise
but the buzzing of bees at a flower
while we lay down in fields of white clover.
The sun fell hot on our skins, her smile was
very dazzling,
while her soft hand gently touched my face,
there was something
known in the way that she did speak with me,
how she did fling
her hair back, while my head did gently rest,
on her soft heaving perfect naked breast.
Love I do not know she said and smiled,
but she was mine,
while we kissed in moments of pure bliss,
drank some white wine,
talked about some things close to the heart,
the curving line
I traced of her bended lovely back
while the greatest pure joy we did not lack.
It had only been a rapturous dream,
that was fading
but her skin, her smile was kind of special;
away wading
into the vast ocean of memory
until reading
from the magazine you looked up at me,
I could not pass when your face I did see.
[Reference: 'The Night Dream' by Archibald MacLeish.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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She Does Not Need Any Praise (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
The greatest happiness she have given
today to me,
in the ways that together our lives is,
tranquillity
is in each smile, like a hot summer day,
totally free
she does her duty in words and her ways,
she acts unhindered like the sun's rays.
Fresh loaves of bread, lovely food she spreads,
great joy she finds
in her selfless acts that brings happiness,
free like the winds
her feet run while she lights candles, sometimes sings;
one of her kind
my wife is, she does not need any praise
as she loves with an amazing true grace.
[Reference: 'Poem in Prose' by Archibald MacLeish.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Letter To A Dream Named Anna
My dear sweet Anna,
You are like a dream come true, but I fear that you are just a dream. A dream I had one night so long ago. How I wish that you were real to me for I could devote the rest of my life with a woman like you. If I had the world I would lay it at your feet. A woman as beautiful as your self can only be a dream. All my waking hours I dream of a lovely lady like you.
I would fly you away to my arms if I could. I have not the means to do such a thing so you remain a dream. A dream I wished I could have, but I have to face reality each day knowing you are so far away. I am hunted by your spell over me. You are a dream that I wish never to wake from. For if I were to pass away in my dream, I would die a happy man knowing an angel loved me once.
To hold and kiss you would be heaven divine. Your lips are perfect and sensuous. Your eyes are warm and welcoming. Your face men would die for. Your hair is so perfect and neat. You are so sultry and sexy only to be found in a dream. What else could any man ask for? I am but a mere mortal touched by an angel for you are like a wisp of the wind. You can be felt but never touched.
You are too lovely to be a lone. Any man that would pass you up is a fool. How I have prayed and wish you were real. How I wish you were that dream that came true. How I wish that when I wake from my dream I saw your lovely face looking back at me for then I would know that I have truly died and went to heaven. I would know that all my prayers are now answered. O’ what a lovely day that would be, but you are just a dream and I am awake now.
dreams
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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On science (cavatina sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
She does not worry about why things are;
that they exist
to be contemplated or observed,
how they persist,
is far enough for her own simple reasoning,
she does resist
their reason, in rote produces answers,
perfect to devotions of her followers.
She thinks she knows where all things do come from,
far beyond her
kind of scope is metaphysics, physical
she does gather,
she is protected in her own dungeon,
nothing further
she knows about love, joy, fear and sorrow,
as she proclaims things for each tomorrow.
Beyond the stars, the sheer utter darkness,
shines a true light,
beyond the unknown, beyond a ocean,
out of her sight
are things like life to which He answers know,
to her its night
to comprehend the very soul of man,
as mechanical she does what she can.
[Reference: "Dr. Sigmund Freud Discovers the Sea Shell" by Archibald MacLeish.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Night Dream
To R. L.
NEITHER her voice, her name,
Eyes, quietness neither,
That moved through the light, that came
Cold stalk in her teeth
Bitten of some blue flower
Knew I before nor saw.
This was a dream. Ah,
This was a dream. There was sun
Laid on the cloths of a table
We drank together. Her mouth
Was a lion's mouth out of jade
Cold with a fable of water.
Faces I could not see
Watched me with gentleness. Grace
Folded my body with wings.
I cannot love you she said.
My head she laid on her breast.
As stillness with ringing of bees
I was filled with a singing of praise.
Knowledge filled me and peace.
We were silent and not ashamed.
Ah we were glad that day.
They asked me but it was one
Dead they meant and not I.
She was beside me she said.
We rode in a desert place.
We were always happy. Her sleeves
Jangled with earrings of gold.
They told me the wind from the south
Was the cold wind to be feared.
We were galloping under the leaves
This was a dream, Ah
This was a dream.
And her mouth
Was not your mouth nor her eyes,
But the rivers were four and I knew
As a secret between us, the way
Hands touch, it was you.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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Will Nature At A Time Be Really Lost? (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
Will nature at a time be really lost,
no snowflake fall
as the world becomes extremely hot,
while big and small
live in a man-made kind of sheer hot hell?
If man kills all;
the fish, each bird, each animal and tree,
what's living will at a time, no more be.
No bird will sing, or even be flying,
tranquility
will be gone in a world as stark as stone,
each thing lovely,
each leaping fish, diving crying great eagle
will die slowly,
when all of the ozone layer is gone
and the greenhouse effect just lingers on.
[Reference: 'The Snowflake Which Is Now And Hence Forever' by Archibald MacLeish.}
poem by Gert Strydom
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Missing Her… (Sextilla / Sestet)
The softness of her fleeting kiss
has got a kind of sheer pure bliss
her sea green eyes, her lovely face
are still in my thoughts all day long,
while we together do belong
and to her there’s a kind of grace.
She is in my dreams every night,
in a kind of tranquil delight,
she puts my life in disarray,
with her passionate moans and sighs
the lingering look in her eyes
that comes to me every day.
She desires to carry my name,
burns in my heart like a pure flame,
there’s sadness in every goodbye
when for work we have got to leave
but she is back on every eve,
in beauty with the fading sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Perfect Girl
Maybe I will have to wait through aeons
to find her, to find the perfect girl
whose feelings reach out to me
softer than the fluttering of any butterfly
whose voice is crystal clear with an own loveliness
and at times she dwells in my dreams
walking at times covered in a white cloak
with slim feet and pearly white toes.
I have heard her sweet laughter
falling softly as snow
but covering me in a kind of warmth
that delights, that at times are amusing
at other times brings sheer tranquillity
and if she’s human or something of the divine
I do not really know
only that she is beyond beautiful
One night suddenly she appeared
in another kind of dream
looked straight at me through her veil
her countenance had pure perfection
a kind of untouched innocence
but it was a sheer mystery
as her gaze had a kind of lust, a kind of longing
and it was clear that she know men
probably had made love to many of them
and as she lifted her veil
her eyes were the colour of the sea
but were ever changing in their hue
they were sometimes green, sometimes grey
and at times blue
Her hair was almost onyx black
and streamed down lustrous
streamed down right to her waist
glittering in a blue-black hue
and I was almost thunder struck
as she stepped out of her cloak
and I saw her sublime body
in every perfect line
the contours of her magnificent breasts,
her sleek belly
with its triangular thatch of dark hair
and she looked somewhat ethereal,
sublimely serene
and lovely beyond words
and it felt if I had waited my whole life
just to see her face
with its dimples, her narrow straight nose,
her full soft lips
and now she was displaying
her whole body in sheer nakedness.
I have known many women
have loved some
maybe beyond what love should be
and in reality
she remains to me a mystery
an ethereal being
that visits me in dream after dream
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Dream of
I Dream of...!
I dream of... A life without pain...
I dream of... Love that I can't explain...
I dream of... Eyes not plagued by tears...
I dream of... A soul without fears...
I dream of... A pure, unbroken heart...
I dream of... A hope of never growing apart...
I dream of... The smile on your face...
I dream of... A better place...
I dream of... The things I could never do...
I dream of... A dream of you...
poem by Sachin Don
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A New Dream I Never Had: Revised
When the clock strikes 11: 11 I wish
When the clock strikes 12 I dream
At 1 I’m in love.
At 1 were together
Miles apart and yet together in our dreams
Beyond the highest cloud
Past the sun and the stars itself
In a world all of our own
We hold each other and dance
The beats go fast and slow as her voice goes high and low.
I never want this to end, just to dance forever
Staring straight into those lovely eyes
To have the touch of her soft lips on mine
To have he scent of her hair all around us
And the smile I want to lose myself in
She will never frown because she knows that I might die
But we notice our last moments and must end the night well
As our clocks strikes 6 and the must dream end
I fly back to my home
And she to hers
I don’t worry though
I’ll see her at 10 again
At 10 I’ll be lost in her smile
Wishing for the touch of her soft lips
And forever staring into those lovely eyes
Will I be able to hold her?
Will she dance with me?
We will have no music
Everyone will watch as she holds her hands inside mine
Now at 11: 11 I don’t need to wish
Now at 12 I don’t have to dream
At 1 we’ll be together
But for right now I’ll live in the moment
Because I’m holding her tightly
And never letting go
As she sings her song that plays high and low
The moon is our light
The trees our witness
The grass the dance floor
As I hold her she may not yet know
I am there for her
If she calls for me I will come running
She has not yet learned no matter what
Broken or dying
I will always come back
This is my promise
This is my swear
I shall be her sword and shield
Only if she needs me there
Katie my girl
Katie my sweet
I typed this poem
After dancing off my feet
The dream I had was beyond compare
You were beautiful
And I was there
You only laughed at me once
When I tripped on a leaf
I grimaced only once but I found relief
Because I saw that smile
The only smile that can save a life
It healed my leg and I jumped up back on my feet
And we continued to dance to a very gentle beat
This poem may seem corny
And you’re probably tired of hearing this line
But “honey I love you, if you love me will
You please smile for me”
So I can see your face and you can see mine.
Written: November 7,2009
poem by Ryan Collins
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Lovely One
Lovely one,
Just as on the cool stone
Of the spring, the water
Opens a wide flash of foam,
So is the smile of your face,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With delicate hands and slender feet
Like a silver pony,
Walking, flower of the world,
Thus I see you,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With a nest of copper entangled
On your head, a nest
The coloUr of dark honey
Where my heart burns and rests,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your eyes are too big for your face,
Your eyes are too big for the earth.
There are countries, there are rivers,
In your eyes,
My country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
They light the world
Through which I walk,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your breasts are like two loaves made
Of grainy earth and golden moon,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your waist,
My arm shaped it like a river when
It flowed a thousand years through your sweet body,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
There is nothing like your hips,
Perhaps earth has
In some hidden place
The curve and the fragrance of your body,
Perhaps in some place,
Lovely one.
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your voice, your skin, your nails,
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your being, your light, your shadow,
Lovely one,
All that is mine, lovely one,
All that is mine, my dear,
When you walk or rest,
When you sing or sleep,
When you suffer or dream,
Always,
When you are near or far,
Always,
You are mine, my lovely one,
Always.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The New Dream I Never Had
When the clock strikes 11: 11 I wish
When the clock strikes 12 I dream
At 1 I’m in love.
At 1 were together
Miles apart and yet together in our dreams
Beyond the highest cloud
Past the sun and the stars itself
In a world all of our own
We hold each other and dance
The beats go fast and slow as her voice goes high and low.
I never want this to end, just to dance forever
Staring straight into those lovely eyes
To have the touch of her soft lips on mine
To have he scent of her hair all around us
And the smile I want to lose myself in
She will never frown because she knows that I might die
But we notice our last moments and must end the night well
As our clocks strikes 6 and the must dream end
I fly back to my home
And she to hers
I don’t worry though
I’ll see her at 10 again
At 10 I’ll be lost in her smile
Wishing for the touch of her soft lips
And forever staring into those lovely eyes
Will I be able to hold her?
Will she dance with me?
We will have no music
Everyone will watch as she holds her hands inside mine
The emotions flicker causing me pain
But as long as I am with her
She shall keep me sane
Now at 11: 11 I don’t need to wish
Now at 12 I don’t have to dream
At 1 we’ll be together
But for right now I’ll live in the moment
Because I’m holding her tightly
And never letting go
As she sings her song that plays high and low
The moon is our light
The trees our witness
The grass the dance floor
As I hold her she may not yet know
I am there for her
If she calls for me I will come running
She has not yet learned no matter what
I will always come back
This is my promise
This is my swear
I shall be her sword and shield
Only if she needs me there
Katie my love
Honey my sweet
I typed this poem
After dancing off my feet
The dream I had was beyond compare
You were beautiful
And I was there
You only laughed at me once
When I tripped on a leaf
I grimaced only once but I found relief
Because I saw that smile
The only smile that can save a life
It healed my leg and I jumped up back on my feet
And we continued to dance to a very gentle beat
This poem may seem corny
And you’re probably tired of hearing this line
But “honey I love you, if you love me will
You please smile for me”
So I can see your smiling face and you can see mine
Written: November 5,2009
poem by Ryan Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out of the waves of time [Din valurile vremii]
Out of the waves of time, come up, my love, and shine
With your white marble arms, with your hair, long and fine –
With your translucent face, which is like wax – soft, white,
Which suffers in the shade and cannot sleep at night!
You gently touch my eyes with your attractive smile,
You are a shining star, no woman has your style
And when you turn your head and watch your shoulder's skin
I look into your eyes and see the bliss within.
How can I take you out of this dark haze, my love,
To hold you to my chest, dear angel from above,
To lay my teary cheek on your exquisite face,
To choke you with my kiss and with my hot embrace,
To warm your chilly hand with the volcanic flame
Of my ecstatic heart that flutters at your name?
Alas! You're not alive, you don't seem to exist
Your shadow disappears into the cold, wet mist
And here I am again, so gloomy and so sad
Reluctantly recalling the nice dream that I had...
In vain I seek your face, in vain I want your charms
The waves of time roll by, you won't be in my arms.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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On The End Of The World (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
Behind the scenes they act, while on the stage
life is a dance
and we fall for the show and laugh and play
in romance,
as in quick-time we are very smitten,
are in a trance
as some Bee-bee Bob the clown laughs and cries;
men go off to war to kill and some dies
and then still lurking are unseen beings,
in sheer darkness;
they poise, do mislead and cover their tracks,
with great aloofness
they turn all beliefs in nothing at all,
bring lawlessness,
try to drag most of humanity down
to wait on great disaster as their own.
[Reference: 'The End of the World' by Archibald MacLeish.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Enigmatic People (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To Archibald Macleish)
Reflected in glass with golden bubbles
distorted faces
stare at him, some looking quite grim and some old;
different places
they call home while to this place they do come,
girls with their graces
that are totally gone, smile, look, at him
before they do triple on, while his eyes swim.
He sits in a bar in Fourth Avenue
while twilight falls,
a soft hot hand covers his for a moment,
his thoughts do stall;
she is very beautiful, her eyes gleam,
and he feels tall
when they leave chatting and are full of lust
and they do know together sleep they must.
Taxis with sharp headlights pass them roaring
as they walk on,
they are comfortable with each other,
but love is gone
from both their lives and the intimate touch
just like set stone
helps them to fit in the puzzle of life
as they with other people leave and arrive.
In the morning their names are unknown, it's strange,
the air is stale
with the smell of cigarette buts, sex and wine
and totally male
he smiles at her as they make love again;
the taste of ale
is bitter in his mouth, her kisses sweet;
but they might never again like this meet.
No words hurt as they go their different ways,
past the white beach
he walks where the wind roars, gulls screech, flutter;
now out of reach
like a sweet kind of dream she is now gone
and each to each
they go to home, to work and they do play;
in their lives it's just another new day.
[Reference: 'inema of a Man' by Archibald MacLeish.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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White Pansies
Day and night pass over, rounding,
Star and cloud and sun,
Things of drift and shadow, empty
Of my dearest one.
Soft as slumber was my baby,
Beaming bright and sweet;
Daintier than bloom or jewel
Were his hands and feet.
He was mine, mine all, mine only,
Mine and his the debt;
Earth and Life and Time are changers;
I shall not forget.
Pansies for my dear one--heartsease--
Set them gently so;
For his stainless lips and forehead,
Pansies white as snow.
Would that in the flower-grown little
Grave they dug so deep,
I might rest beside him, dreamless,
Smile no more, nor weep.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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If You Can Dream
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For a good family
Who can stay with us
In our peaceful home.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For a sweet song
Which fills in every one’s heart
The joy to share with people.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For the innocent creatures
They can get their world
To play in a melodious tune.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For the flowers
Which can spread all the hues
In poor’s eye.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For quiet moments
In which everybody can live
Peacefully to weave
A kind of bond among us.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For doing all the good deeds
Through which you can
Get the perfect rest.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For believing in maker
Who is holding our hand
In each and every moment.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For sacrificing your life
For those whose eyes
Searching you for help.
poem by Cheyanne Whien
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Dream-Dew
WHITE bird of love, lie warm upon my breast,
White flower of love, lie cool against my face!
Teach me to dream again a little space
Ere this dream, too, sink earthward with the rest.
Teach me to dream my heart still pure as snow,
Teach me to dream my lips deserve this grace:
Then let me wake in some forgotten place,
And know you gone, but never see you go.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Went High
I went high
Only to fly
Touched the peak
But felt unable to speak
She caught my hand
To show as if to be a friend
Pushed back to the ground
To dream about beautiful end
She is sky
So you can only try
You can't touch
But only in dream as such
She is willing
But her silence is killing
She says 'no' and 'yes'
But where and how to trace
She is lovely and beautiful
But may not make me successful
She has kind smile
I have to wait meanwhile
She may come round
Only to be found
So near and whisper
'Come on dear' I am near
Hear me and act
This is fact
I love you but can't
So feel no sad and react
I can give you my wings
You can relax and sing
Remember me and my face
There is lot more yet in race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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There are those who will say that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind is nothing but a dream. They are right. It is the American Dream.
quote by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are those, I know, who will reply that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind, is nothing but a dream. They are right. It is. It is the American Dream.
quote by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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