Related quotes: I would that I could...

Frustration

I would that I could ever be.
Allowed to worship thy beauty.
but thou hast little time for men
now past their three score years and ten.
But old men still dream young men’s dreams.
So when I sleep it truly seems
thou wouldst accept me as a swain
for I am young and strong again.
I wot that in reality
such foolish dreams can never be.
The secret dreams I dare not share
are but a burden that I bear.
Desire outlives ability
a lesson in humility.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sans Merci

Wouldst thou then I should depart.
A hollow man without a heart,
a victim of thy cruelty.
Hast thou non, e no trace of pity.
They beauty doth ensnare young men.
Thou toyest with them heartlessly
The bored, thou bidst them forth again.
A maiden lacking all pity.
Thy turn will come and thou wilt lose
thy heart in turn to some young man,
thy beauty’s lure he will refuse.
Thou art surprised because he can
Hoist upon thine own petard
methinks it is thy just reward

(poeticpiers/31-May-07)

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dream Dream Dream

Dream dream dream
And dream untill dream come true
Life is nothing but dreams
Some accomplished, some unfinished
Some dreams are trifle, some cherished

You are nothing but a result of dreams
Dreams, dreams and nothing but dreams
A dream of someone
Or a dream of your own

Dream is not what you dream while asleep
Dream is what that don't let you sleep
You live for dream
And you die for dream
Your unattained desires are dreams
What you all desire are dreams

You can't accomplished unless you dream
What you accomplished was a dream
The law of attraction and power of passion
All say dream, dream and dream

{Published in Annual Magazine of NOSPLAN- Organisation of the Students of Planning in January,2012 by the same poet.}

poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Dreams Dreams Dreams

I dream of you, dreaming of me
In thy imagination, lovely and free

Astray on a unimaginable path
Where me and you are all we hath

Dreaming of dreams that should be
The mind of you to bind with me

In my dreams its thou I see
I see thou with my harmony

Dreams, Dreams, Dreams
Gleams, Gleams, Gleams

Gleams of you and gleams of me
In dreams of you in dreams of me

The gleams that hope
The gleams that elope

You to me and me to you
In dreams, dreams come true!

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Sea-dreams

Where the earth and sky collide
That's were sea-dreams are found
Sea-dreams become reality as sunrise
Grows glorious out of, aqua marine horizons

Our dream- that love is all we need
In our sea-dream moments looking beyond
Horizons we see our dreams come true, as we
Sway with loves promise in the daylight,

Holding each other, kissing each other
Sea-dreams are a reality that only mystic
Lovers know, dreams happen, and
When they do

We accept that love is
All we need, and
We few who embrace
The might and power of love

Live forever in our sea-dreams

poem by Johnoe Mc Guckin
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What can you lose?

I’ve dreams to spare and dreams to share
For those of you prepared to dare
to leave behind reality
and try a little fantasy.

Although my dreams may not be new.
The promise that I make to you.
My dreams are all in good repair,
though some have seen a lot of wear.

You need not pay my dreams are free
because they’re low technology.
You do not need a power source
to view my dreams.Although of course

you must return them when you’re done
and if you’re truly satisfied
Exchange them for another one.
All sorts of dreams can be supplied.

Friday,22 January 2010
http: //.blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CIV

THE SAME CONTINUED
O world, in very truth thou art too young,
They gave thee love who measured out thy skies,
And, when they found for thee another star,
Who made a festival and straightway hung
The jewel on thy neck. O merry world,
Hast thou forgot the glory of those eyes
Which first looked love in thine? Thou hast not furled
One banner of thy bridal car for them.
O world, in very truth thou art too young.
There was a voice which sang about thy Spring,
Till Winter froze the sweetness of his lips,
And lo, the worms had hardly left his tongue
Before thy nightingales were come again.
O world, what courage hast thou thus to sing?
Say, has thy merriment no secret pain
No sudden weariness that thou art young?

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Validation for colin j

Sometimes I think we should not try
to make our cherished dreams come true
and be content with fantasy.
We must accept reality
Some cherished dreams are doomed to fail.
Because they are not meant to be.
That does not mean we should not dream
For dreams are a necessity
Though they’re not always as they seem
Dreams can protect our sanity
provide escape from every day
repetitive reality.
Dreams can become reality
Though only if they’re meant to be.

31/05/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dream

When I was young
I have many dreams
a doctor, a newscaster
a lawyer, and many other.

Dreams...
it's wonderful to have one
'though usually,
they don't easily come true.

Dreams...
some come true
and some just don't.

When I was young
I have many dreams
but now
I only have one dream...

I dream
at my last moment
you'd be beside me
...crying.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Autumn Eve

The yellow poplar leaves have strown
Thy quiet mound, thou slumberest
Where winter's winds will be unknown;
So deep thy rest,
So deep thy rest.

Sleep on, my love, thy dreams are sweet,
If thou hast dreams: the flowers I brought
I lay aside for passing feet,
Thou needest nought,
Thou needest, needest nought.

The grapes are gather'd from the hills,
The wood is piled, the song bird gone,
The breath of early evening chills;
My love, my love, sleep on;
My love, my love, sleep on

poem by Arthur Maquarie
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Dreaming's Art

He could see
that she loved him;

no, more like Idol Worship.

'You' she said
'are the Man of my Dreams
my Prince Charming.

Everything you touch
turns to gold
including me.

I laid down my heart for you
hand pressed my soul for you,
danced round your Maypole
like a young girl in spring.

You populated my every dream;
you in my eyes-
could do no wrong or harm-
you were my dreams' dream.

He: said:
I see now my dear
this was Dangerous Praise
and Deadly Love
at least for me.

I felt in love too
but more with your
image of me,
not as I really was.

And so as not to disappoint
I pretended to believe
the image of me
dancing in your eyes
but in doing so
I participated in
the subterfuge;

creating someone
who was only a facsimile
of the real me
who
then
went into hiding
dreading to be discovered.

To you I was your hero-
the one to up-end every wrong
and we
busily,
both of us,
constructed
white picket fences
in the blue, blue sky.

She:
'I believed you were my superman,
you said so too.'

He:
'I said so because you seemed
to need me to be that fantasy,

and I had no heart to disappoint
that precious dream
you had of me.

She:
'But you did disappoint because I began
to see
that you were not superman
or perfect even.

He:
'And that disappointment in your eyes
was too much for me.
Too much for me to bear.

In time
resentment came
because why should I
live to be another's dream
even the dream of the one I love?

And you too
were not perfection's dream
you too in time
were revealed to me
as merely a woman
a person, not perfect,
not a dream.'

She:
And there we stood the both of us
pouring hurt and harm
on each other as human beings
preferring to cling to our perfect
dream scheme;

even as we came to understand
Misplaced Dreams are not dreams at all

but potential nightmares.

She looked at him,
with her deep, sad eyes
saying:

'Do you think you could love me
if my beauty fades
if my breasts succumb to gravity;
if other women to you
siren call?

He said 'Could you still love me
if in morning light
my paunchy eyes
and thick waist
become pronounced
and lumpy high?

So these two in fading light
allowed themselves
to contemplate
Irony's Twists
and the struggle between
what our dreams want
and who we really are;

so much at stake here
so little it takes
to merely
accept
that dreams are not real;
people are.

This is not to say
dreams must die.

Rather only dream
that dream
which constitutes Love’s Art
which comes with the words:

'I shall love you
til death do us part.'

That too
is a dream:
True,
True Love
imparts.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Dream My Friend, You Must Dream

dream my friend
without dreams we become too real

and reality stinks like a stone without gloss
without color
plain weight without sight
the hardness
that Sisyphus
suffers unnecessarily

so my friend you must dream
the world is too much
for us to bear

dream we must to dare
we have still time to spare

without dreams we are nothing
we are worse than nothing

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To the girl I call thee

Passion's sword cut thy lines for beauty to trace
And beauty did trace with all loves fever
Thou art a woman whose dream is to dream forever
So in other dreams you dream with them too
And make all dreams dreams come true..
Lost for words I'll let love speak
My love for you, my love you make
With passion's sword thy slice my soul
For thou to wear, for love's sake
Two thousand tears for one moment of love
Doth not quench the thirst of my melancholic palette
I love you as next to me I subtly taste
Thy soul, with my soul's love in love chaste
Beauty in my limpid tears, thou love's mirror
In my tears, thou tears do sear
Thy burnt tears emblazon love to me
My beloved, my heart, the girl I call thee

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Hast Thou Forgotten Me?

HAST thou forgotten me? the days are dark—
Light ebbs from heaven, and songless soars the lark—
Vexed like my heart, loud moans the unquiet sea—
Hast thou forgotten me?

Hast thou forgotten me? O dead delight
Whose dreams and memories torture me to-night—
O love—my life! O sweet—so fair to see—
Hast thou forgotten me?

Hast thou forgotten? Lo, if one should say—
Noontide were night, or night were flaming day—
Grief blinds mine eyes, I know not which it be!
Hast thou forgotten me?

Hast thou forgotten? Ah, if Death should come,
Close my sad eyes, and charm my song-bird dumb—
Tired of strange woes—my fate were hailed with glee—
Hast thou forgotten me?

Hast thou forgotten me? What joy have I?
A dim blown bird beneath an alien sky,—
O that on mighty pinions I could flee—
Hast thou forgotten me?

Hast thou forgotten? Yea, Love’s horoscope
Is blurred with tears and suffering beyond Hope—
Ah, like dead leaves forsaken of the tree,
Thou hast forgotten me.

poem by Philip Joseph Holdsworth
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Written at Florence

O WORLD, in very truth thou art too young;
When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age?
World, with thy covering of yellow flowers,
Hast thou forgot what generations sprung
Out of thy loins and loved thee and are gone?
Hast thou no place in all their heritage
Where thou dost only weep, that I may come
Nor fear the mockery of thy yellow flowers?
O world, in very truth thou art too young.
The heroic wealth of passionate emprize
Built thee fair cities for thy naked plains:
How hast thou set thy summer growth among
The broken stones which were their palaces!
Hast thou forgot the darkness where he lies
Who made thee beautiful, or have thy bees
Found out his grave to build their honeycombs?

O world, in very truth thou art too young:
They gave thee love who measured out thy skies,
And, when they found for thee another star,
Who made a festival and straightway hung
The jewel on thy neck. O merry world,
Hast thou forgot the glory of those eyes
Which first look'd love in thine? Thou hast not furl'd
One banner of thy bridal car for them.
O world, in very truth thou art too young.
There was a voice which sang about thy spring,
Till winter froze the sweetness of his lips,
And lo, the worms had hardly left his tongue
Before thy nightingales were come again.
O world, what courage hast thou thus to sing?
Say, has thy merriment no secret pain,
No sudden weariness that thou art young?

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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