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Dream

Because her eyes were far too deep
And holy for a laugh to leap
Across the brink where sorrow tried
To drown within the amber tide;
Because the looks, whose ripples kissed
The trembling lids through tender mist,
Were dazzled with a radiant gleam--
Because of this I called her 'Dream.'

Because the roses growing wild
About her features when she smiled
Were ever dewed with tears that fell
With tenderness ineffable;
Because her lips might spill a kiss
That, dripping in a world like this,
Would tincture death's myrrh-bitter stream
To sweetness--so I called her 'Dream.'

Because I could not understand
The magic touches of a hand
That seemed, beneath her strange control,
To smooth the plumage of the soul
And calm it, till, with folded wings,
It half forgot its flutterings,
And, nestled in her palm, did seem
To trill a song that called her 'Dream.'

Because I saw her, in a sleep
As dark and desolate and deep
And fleeting as the taunting night
That flings a vision of delight
To some lorn martyr as he lies
In slumber ere the day he dies--
Because she vanished like a gleam
Of glory, do I call her 'Dream.'

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Lullaby (Song)

Close your eyes
Go to sleep.
Find your soul
In arms I'll keep
Dream you Little dark Dream
In your eyes
There's a glow
See your dreams
Now you know
Dream you Little dark Dreams
See your dreams
Come alive
Watch them dance
Through your eyes
Dream you Little dark Dreams
Coming now into eternal
Slumber, Sleep your Life's infernal
Lies called dreams within our sorrow
Never waking for tomorrow
Bow your head
Lay on down
Wipe your tears
Do not frown
Dream Dream Dream Dream Dream Dream
Dream you Little dark Dreams
Tonight.

poem by Sans Serif
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Deadliner

So I close my eyes and drift into sleep,
But something is here,
In the dark, in the dream.
Like a cruel wind clutching my heart,
I feel more than I see,
Like a clue to a nightmare that I cant believe.
Then it touches me and I try to scream,
And a thought tears me inside.
And I will do anything,
Anything, you understand?
Just to wake up.
Sometimes it almost makes me cry.
Sometimes it seems to call my name out loud.
Sometimes it feels like Im alone
And then it comes for me again.
Im told its called the un-reality dream.
Im told its called the great american lie.
Im told that this is like the vengeance of god.
I cant believe that God would do this to me.
Ive known fear many times, but nothing like this.
Im so scared I cant breathe.
I know Im asleep, but I know this is real,
And no one can help me here.
Im deep inside something, and I may never come back,
And then it was gone,
And then I realised that the rush brought it in,
And I will never sleep alone again.
Sometimes it almost breaks my heart.
Sometimes I swear I hear it laugh at me.
Sometimes it feels like I could die
And then it leaves my dreams again.
Feels like Im fighting the possession of my soul.
Im told that this is called the sickness of need.
Ive got to cut the sex connection and slide
A word of warning to the weary and wise.

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wherefore

Wherefore in dreams are sorrows born anew,
A healed wound opened, or the past revived?
Last night in my deep sleep I dreamed of you –
Again the old love woke in me, and thrived
On looks of fire, and kisses, and sweet words
Like silver waters purling in a stream,
Or like the amorous melodies of birds:
A dream – a dream.

Again upon the glory of the scene
There settled that dread shadow of the cross
That, when hearts love too well, falls in between –
That warns them of impending woe and loss.
Again I saw you drifting from my life,
As barques are rudely parted in a stream;
Again my heart was torn with awful strife:
A dream –a dream.

Again the deep night settled on me there,
Alone I groped, and heard strange waters roll.
Lost in that blackness of supreme despair
That comes but once to any living soul.
Alone, afraid, I called your name aloud –
Mine eyes, unveiled, beheld white stars agleam,
And lo! awake, I cried, “Thank God, thank God,
A dream –a dream.”

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Dream

Only a dream, a beautiful baseless dream;
Only a bright
Flash from your eyes, a brief electrical gleam,
Charged with delight.

Only a waking, alone, in the moon's last gleam
Fading from sight;
Only a flooding of tears that shudder and stream
Fast through the night.

poem by Mathilde Blind
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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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Ballade Of The Dream

Swift as sound of music fled
When no more the organ sighs,
Sped as all old days are sped,
So your lips, love, and your eyes,
So your gentle-voiced replies
Mine one hour in sleep that seem,
Rise and flit when slumber flies,
Following darkness like a dream!

Like the scent from roses red,
Like the dawn from golden skies,
Like the semblance of the dead
From the living love that hies,
Like the shifting shade that lies
On the moonlight-silvered stream,
So you rise when dreams arise,
Following darkness like a dream!

Could some spell, or sung or said,
Could some kindly witch and wise,
Lull for aye this dreaming head
In a mist of memories,
I would lie like him who lies
Where the lights on Latmos gleam, -
Wake not, find not Paradise
Following darkness like a dream!

ENVOY.

Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies,
Shadowy bounties and supreme,
Bring the dearest face that flies
Following darkness like a dream!

poem by Andrew Lang
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From the threshold [Din prag]

Like evening star
I fade away
And night around
Will soon expand.

When all the past
Dies in my soul
It is replaced
By desert land...

O, icon dear
From other times,
Right now you seem
A ruined dream...

Come closer, please,
To kiss your hand
And blackish eyes,
Which brightly gleam!

The wing of death
Casts shadows deep
On the bad luck
Of vanquished guys.

Detached from life,
I feel how fall
The heavy lids
On my dead eyes...

poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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Waiting

Tonight i'll dream a girl called home
And wake up in tears
All on my own
With the sun coming up
And my head against stone
Balcony dressed and drawn
Tonight i'll dream a room so far away
Frost pale blue
The colour of a perfect day
And then screw up my face
In the mirror
As i wait for the others to call
But if i don't believe in magic
And i don't believe in blood
And i don't believe in miracles
And i don't believe in love
Then how come i believe so soon
In a cherry tree girl
And a dust blue room?
Tonight i'll dream an hour so long
Shadow soft smiles
And everyone loves me
To open my eyes
In a drag myself face undone
Hard back into the world
Tonight i'll dream a dream i dream
Without even trying i'm flying i scream
As i practice the move
I spit at my pillow stained face
And the others all come
But if i don't believe in magic
And i don't believe in blood
And i don't believe in miracles
And i don't believe in love
Then how come i believe it seems
In a girl called home
And a world called dreams?

song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To

The Day was dying; his breath
Wavered away in a hectic gleam;
And I said, if Life's a dream, and Death
And Love and all are dreams -- I'll dream.

A mist came over the bay
Like as a dream would over an eye.
The mist was white and the dream was grey
And both contained a human cry,

The burthen whereof was "Love",
And it filled both mist and dream with pain,
And the hills below and the skies above
Were touched and uttered it back again.

The mist broke: down the rift
A kind ray shot from a holy star.
Then my dream did waver and break and lift --
Through it, O Love, shone thy face, afar.

So Boyhood sets: comes Youth,
A painful night of mists and dreams;
That broods till Love's exquisite truth,
The star of a morn-clear manhood, beams.

poem by Sidney Lanier
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I Dream Of Being With You

I dream of knowing your velvet kiss,
the soft warmth of your lips,
the delicious drink of carnal bliss
that pours from your fingertips.

I dream of a pirate ship in the harbor
with its prow and glistening stern.
I dream of moonlight in the arbor
with songs of quixotic nocturne.

I dream of pearl-drippings on the bed,
the fragrant breeze of night.
I dream of roses of cherry red
that rise in scarlet delight.

I dream of a pulsing palisade
with beads of tiny flowers.
I dream of meadows dressed in jade,
collapsing sighs and showers.

I dream of oceans, calm and sweet,
that streams of love plunge in.
I dream of passion's burning sheet
that's tossed as free as sin.

I dream of stars melting from the sky,
twinkling with crystalline delight.
I dream of things that cannot die.
I dream of you this night.

poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream of fog and mist (if you can)

If you can…
Dream of beaches

Dream of fog
that slides ashore

And If you can…
Learn what it teaches

Before the fog returns
To the sea once more

Dream of yardarms…
Of dripping rigging

Of treasure chests
Just ripe for digging

Dream of islands
With crystal sand

With coral reefs
And mountains grand

Dream of fog and mist
Mugs of rum…

Of frigate birds…
Of hawsers thrum

Of cool sea breezes
From exotic land

In sleep…dream deep…
Dream of beaches…

…If you can…

poem by David Whalen
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Dream A Little Dream For Me

At night when you think through your day
Think on the things that you did say
When you think through the things that you should be
Dream this little dream for me

Dream of blue skies forever
Dream that we are a worthy endeavor
Dream this one dream so you can see
Dream this little dream for me

The world fades but I'm still here
Still living for you
I'm sitting outside beneath the sky clear
Just enjoying your view

Sleep well until morning comes
Live with the passion of a thousand suns
Tell me all the things that you should be
And dream this little dream for me

Dream of you through my eyes
Dream though it may not be much of a surprise
That while you dream enjoying the view
I'm dreaming a little dream for you.

Yes, dreaming a dream for you!

poem by Jack Harris
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Fish, The

In a cool curving world he lies
And ripples with dark ecstasies.
The kind luxurious lapse and steal
Shapes all his universe to feel
And know and be; the clinging stream
Closes his memory, glooms his dream,
Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glides
Superb on unreturning tides.
Those silent waters weave for him
A fluctuant mutable world and dim,
Where wavering masses bulge and gape
Mysterious, and shape to shape
Dies momently through whorl and hollow,
And form and line and solid follow
Solid and line and form to dream
Fantastic down the eternal stream;
An obscure world, a shifting world,
Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled,
Or serpentine, or driving arrows,
Or serene slidings, or March narrows.
There slipping wave and shore are one,
And weed and mud. No ray of sun,
But glow to glow fades down the deep
(As dream to unknown dream in sleep);
Shaken translucency illumes
The hyaline of drifting glooms;
The strange soft-handed depth subdues
Drowned colour there, but black to hues,
As death to living, decomposes --
Red darkness of the heart of roses,
Blue brilliant from dead starless skies,
And gold that lies behind the eyes,
The unknown unnameable sightless white
That is the essential flame of night,
Lustreless purple, hooded green,
The myriad hues that lie between
Darkness and darkness! . . .

And all's one.
Gentle, embracing, quiet, dun,
The world he rests in, world he knows,
Perpetual curving. Only -- grows
An eddy in that ordered falling,
A knowledge from the gloom, a calling
Weed in the wave, gleam in the mud --
The dark fire leaps along his blood;
Dateless and deathless, blind and still,
The intricate impulse works its will;
His woven world drops back; and he,
Sans providence, sans memory,
Unconscious and directly driven,
Fades to some dank sufficient heaven.

O world of lips, O world of laughter,
Where hope is fleet and thought flies after,
Of lights in the clear night, of cries
That drift along the wave and rise
Thin to the glittering stars above,
You know the hands, the eyes of love!
The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging,
The infinite distance, and the singing
Blown by the wind, a flame of sound,
The gleam, the flowers, and vast around
The horizon, and the heights above --
You know the sigh, the song of love!

But there the night is close, and there
Darkness is cold and strange and bare;
And the secret deeps are whisperless;
And rhythm is all deliciousness;
And joy is in the throbbing tide,
Whose intricate fingers beat and glide
In felt bewildering harmonies
Of trembling touch; and music is
The exquisite knocking of the blood.
Space is no more, under the mud;
His bliss is older than the sun.
Silent and straight the waters run.
The lights, the cries, the willows dim,
And the dark tide are one with him.

poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fish

In a cool curving world he lies
And ripples with dark ecstasies.
The kind luxurious lapse and steal
Shapes all his universe to feel
And know and be; the clinging stream
Closes his memory, glooms his dream,
Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glides
Superb on unreturning tides.
Those silent waters weave for him
A fluctuant mutable world and dim,
Where wavering masses bulge and gape
Mysterious, and shape to shape
Dies momently through whorl and hollow,
And form and line and solid follow
Solid and line and form to dream
Fantastic down the eternal stream;
An obscure world, a shifting world,
Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled,
Or serpentine, or driving arrows,
Or serene slidings, or March narrows.
There slipping wave and shore are one,
And weed and mud. No ray of sun,
But glow to glow fades down the deep
(As dream to unknown dream in sleep);
Shaken translucency illumes
The hyaline of drifting glooms;
The strange soft-handed depth subdues
Drowned colour there, but black to hues,
As death to living, decomposes --
Red darkness of the heart of roses,
Blue brilliant from dead starless skies,
And gold that lies behind the eyes,
The unknown unnameable sightless white
That is the essential flame of night,
Lustreless purple, hooded green,
The myriad hues that lie between
Darkness and darkness! . . .

And all's one.
Gentle, embracing, quiet, dun,
The world he rests in, world he knows,
Perpetual curving. Only - grows
An eddy in that ordered falling,
A knowledge from the gloom, a calling
Weed in the wave, gleam in the mud -
The dark fire leaps along his blood;
Dateless and deathless, blind and still,
The intricate impulse works its will;
His woven world drops back; and he,
Sans providence, sans memory,
Unconscious and directly driven,
Fades to some dank sufficient heaven.

O world of lips, O world of laughter,
Where hope is fleet and thought flies after,
Of lights in the clear night, of cries
That drift along the wave and rise
Thin to the glittering stars above,
You know the hands, the eyes of love!
The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging,
The infinite distance, and the singing
Blown by the wind, a flame of sound,
The gleam, the flowers, and vast around
The horizon, and the heights above -
You know the sigh, the song of love!

But there the night is close, and there
Darkness is cold and strange and bare;
And the secret deeps are whisperless;
And rhythm is all deliciousness;
And joy is in the throbbing tide,
Whose intricate fingers beat and glide
In felt bewildering harmonies
Of trembling touch; and music is
The exquisite knocking of the blood.
Space is no more, under the mud;
His bliss is older than the sun.
Silent and straight the waters run.
The lights, the cries, the willows dim,
And the dark tide are one with him.

poem by Rupert Brooke (1911)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bereft

FOR nine drear nights my darling has been dead;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
Now I shall see her always lying white—
A frozen flower beneath a snow of flowers,
Drowned in a sea of fragrance. I shall hear
In every silence of the coming years
Only the muffled horror from the room
Where I had left my little child asleep—
And found a nameless thing shut in and sealed…
And I shall never feel her breath that kissed
Me closer than her lips did; for the thick,
Dead perfume of slow-drooping flowers has drawn
A veil across my memory.…She is dead;
For nine drear nights I have not dreamed of her.
When, all a tangle of wee clambering limbs,
And little gusts of laughter and of tears,
Sun-flecked and shadow-stricken every hour,
She played about me, I could lie all night
And dream of her. She came in wondrous ways,
Hiding behind the dark to startle me;
Then leaping down the vistas of the night,
And yielding all her wistful soul to me
With kisses tenderer and words more sweet
Than that mad, random vehemence of love
She lavished on me through her laughing day.

And now she has been dead nine dreary nights,
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
Her idle hoop is hung against the wall,
And in the dusk her cherished garments seem
As if still warmed with all her eager life.
And here the childish story that she wrote
Herself, and never finished;—how one day
With puzzled pucker of her brow she stopped
Mid-sentence! as if God had gravely held
A finger up to hush her, and she knew
She was to keep His secrets;—soon, so soon,
Perhaps He whispered low, she would know all.
And now she has been dead nine long sad nights;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
So I shall see her always lying white—
A frozen flower beneath a snow of flowers,
Drowned in a sea of fragrance. Now it seems
As if the memories I hold of her
Have shrivelled with the lilies that she loved
And lay with on her little narrow bed.
And now she will not murmur through my dreams
Those faint, strange words that mean so much in dreams,
And wither with the morn. I lie awake
And whisper to my hopes, “To-night I'll hear
Her petulant hands knock at my dreams' shut gate;

And oh, the gladness when I let her in!
Hush! what a patter of impatient feet
Down the long staircase of the stars!” And then
I sleep, and with an endless weariness
I grope among the spaces of the dark
For rhythm of her unresting feet, or touch
Of her caressing fingers, or the kiss
And whisper of her little self-willed curls;
But never lifts her laugh across the dark,
And never may I smooth her wilful curls,
And when I wake again I see her yet,
So pitifully thin and chill and straight,
Who used to be all curves—a living flame!
For nine drear nights my darling has been dead,
And till I die I cannot dream of her.
Perhaps she aches to come, shut in her grave—
So deep to dig to hide that tender form!
Dear God! she is too frail and weak to climb
The horror of those walls that hedge her in;
And when you call her to you let me be
Close by her side to lift her little feet
Up to the grass and sunshine of this world,
That lacking her is now so desolate.
So I have called and called…she does not come.
And yet I know the way into my heart
She has not quite forgotten…She does not come.
And now for nine drear nights she has been dead;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only One

Ooooh

I can remember when I first saw you
It seemed like a never-ending dream come true
I didn't think it would take this many tries
With so many secrets
But never any lies

And I know now that I don't have to wait
And I know now that I can't seal my fate

(Chorus:)
You're the dream I dream
You're the one I need
No matter where life take us to
It has to be with you
Every night and day
I think of you in every way
And just when I thought life was done
I knew you're the only one

When everything's changing you always stay the same
I wish you would listen when I called your name
'Cause everything I know is from deep in my heart
So can we do it over
And begin from the start

And I know now that I don't have to wait
And I know now that I can't seal my fate

(Chorus)

You're the dream I dream
You're the one I need
No one can stop us now
No one can defeat
Every night and day
I think of you in every way
You're the only one

You're the only one

(Chorus2x)

You're the dream I dream
You're the one I need
You're the only one

Ooooh

You're the only one

song performed by by Angel Berg from Fairy Tale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamer, Say

Dreamer, say, will you dream for me
A wild sweet dream of a foreign land,
Whose border sips of a foaming sea
With lips of coral and silver sand;
Where warm winds loll on the shady deeps,
Or lave themselves in the tearful mist
The great wild wave of the breaker weeps
O'er crags of opal and amethyst?

Dreamer, say, will you dream a dream
Of tropic shades in the lands of shine,
Where the lily leans o'er an amber stream
That flows like a rill of wasted wine,--
Where the palm-trees, lifting their shields of green,
Parry the shafts of the Indian sun
Whose splintering vengeance falls between
The reeds below where the waters run?

Dreamer, say, will you dream of love
That lives in a land of sweet perfume,
Where the stars drip down from the skies above
In molten spatters of bud and bloom?
Where never the weary eyes are wet,
And never a sob in the balmy air,
And only the laugh of the paroquet
Breaks the sleep of the silence there?

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dreamed About Mama Last Night

I've just been to heaven with someone so true I dreamed about mama last night
She read me the Bible like she used to do I dreamed about mama last night
She never close her eyes to sleep till we were all in bed
And on party nights when we come home she often sat and read
We little thought about it then for we were young and gay
Just how much mama worried when we children were away
We only knew she never slept when we were out at night
That she waited just to know that we'd all come home alright
Why sometimes when we'd stay away till one or two or three
It seemed to us that mama heard the turnin' of the key
For always when we'd step aside she'd call and we'd reply
But we were all too young back then to understand the reason why
Until the last one had returned she'd always keep a light
For mama couldn't sleep until she kissed us all goodnight
She had to know that we were safe before she went to rest
She seemed to fear that the world might harm the ones that she loved the best
And once she told me when you're grown to women and to men
Perhaps I'll sleep the whole night through I may be different then
And so it seemed that night and day we knew a mother's care
That always when we got back home we'd find her waitin' there
Then came the night that we were called together round her bed
The children're all with you now the kindly doctor said
And in her eyes the gleam again that old time tender light
That told that she's just been waitin' to know that we were alright
She smiled that old familiar smile and prayed to God to keep
Her children safe from harm throughout the years tand then she went to sleep
My dream is a treasure that I'll always keep I dreamed about mama last night

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I dream my own dream

When I dream of love,
I dream about you..

When I dream about happiness,
I dream about my families..

When I dream of pain,
I dream about all the sadness inside me..

When I dream of horror,
I dream about the nightmare that would
wake me up in the middle of night..

When I dream about the death,
I dream myself crying in sleep..

When I dream a dream,
I dream all those thing
that are real and not real..

I dream about all the thing
that are in my mind,
I dream about all the thing
that I desire for..

I dream my own dream..

poem by Heather Moyer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreams and Dreamers

No one exists
With out experience
Of the dream.

Nature also has the experience
Of dreams.

The rainbow is
Dream of clouds,
Twinkling stars are
Dreams of the night,
Flowers are
Dreams of the earth,
Moon is
Dream of the sun,
Woman is
Dream of a man,

Smile is
Dream of the tears,

Poetry is
Dream of the words,
False is
Dream of the truth,

Human is
Dream of the God,
Dream of human is
Dream of the dreams!

Dream,
It is a display of sight (view)
In closed eyes,
Action of the sleep
And riddle of the slumber, (deep sleep)
Solitude of the seclusion,
Mirror of the wounds,
Mumble of the mind,
Windows of the paradise,
Language of an individual
Les’ understood by himself,

Dream is a
Modern poetry
Has no syllable and meter,
Dream is a
Divine power of human, (desolation, super natural, forlorn)
Dream is not a myth
But it is a naked truth,

Dream is a secret room
Of an individual
He rest there
With his genuine face,

Dream is
Incubator of a man,
Dream is wings
Of an individual,
Dream is
A lighthouse of man
Dreams are
Colors of a man
To glorify his
Black and white life;

Let all of us praise for men
Who love the dreams,
And we express
Our sympathy to all men
who live in dreams too….

(Aalaabanai by Kaviko-In Tamizh)

poem by anushmadhu P.Bharathi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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