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Fallen into the other Realm

under the little picture
of the virgin mary
i lazed and lazed
until her impatient little angel
flew down to speak to my ears
in a mind lifting delightful language
prodding me perhaps to wake up
to face the world
still amazed at her musical tongue

this hasty chinese man
that ran into my dream
pointing to an antique
chinese wood carving of
an auspicious looking lion
perhaps to tell me
i should buy it
and i saw it in
my friend's shop the next day
he asked for US400
and now it pained me to
see it again in his shop
with the not-for-sale sign
the lion that had brought
him luck he said
his business boomed
still at a loss
about this chinese man
in his samfoo in my dream

three times as i closed
my eyes and flicked through
the koran i came to the
same page and to the same line
'follow the correct path'
this same line
this same line
still rankles in
my catholic mind
which side speaking

this encased tooth i bought
from a roadside buddhist fortune teller
how in the night i saw
a white figure flying away from me
the beauty of the mystery she left
behind

this strange woman on this cursed
island of Langkawi
who walked in the middle of the night
without hands
her sleeves dangled, dangled
i even cycled back to make sure
my eyes were not seeing things
yes, there were no hands

this door to my antique shop
on the cursed island
that unlocked itself
so many times
even when i had made sure
no ghost would fool me
by checking it two times the night
before i left

yes, this sudden dense
atmosphere in my room
yes she was there
she was there
late granny came back
to visit me
always the sudden dense
energy when she arrived
so disappointing that i didnt
have the facility to see her
no more such visitations
perhaps, she too has realised
without the necessary organs
the bridge to this side
of the world is futile

this lane in the island resort
so quiet at night
so quiet that my hair stood on ends
the girls at the nearby dormitory
talked about dreams of a ghost
with big eyes

this strange dream in
the japanese apartment
at shimousa nakayama
where some strange being
showed me figures
that could predict future events
all those mathematics that
i understood in the dreams
but immediately

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes

Go Back To Your Dream

Dreaming of dreams
Some times you dream but some times you don’t
What happens in your dreams?
Some know and some don’t
You may wake up from your dream and try to go back
Many may try but not all can relapse
But for those who don’t know
To dream of a dream it is easy to go back
Visions in your mined that your brain bring up
So I dream and wake up
And can’t remember what my brain brought up
Only but few that I could remember I would lay down at night
And think of my few
I chose but one and think clearly through the night
I fall asleep to dream of a dream

And after the night the sun had come up
I had recalled the dream of a dream
Simple as thought
Just to lay in bad and think of my dream
and be for it had been told I had my dream of a dream

poem by Jacob Pettey
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Ever Dream Of Flying

Ever dream of flying,
With my arms spread out,
And my feet behind me.
I fly like I have done so a million times,
In different dreams and different times.

Ever dream of flying,
Seeing the city bellow.
The houses all lit in the night,
People looking out their windows.

Ever dream of flying,
One minute flying past vast cities.
The next moment I am flying past mountains,
And then Back to my house, my home.

Ever dream of flying,
That it seems so odd not to fly when you wake.
It seems the dream was real and this world,
Was not so real at all.

Ever dream of flying,
Swooping low to help a loved one.
Flying fast to do the heroic thing,
Saving a dear one from catastrophe,
Like a movie, but only a dream.

Ever dream of flying,
Or am I the only dreamer that flies,
Fleeting past new cities,
Seeing the sights by night and by day,
Flying like in a dream.

poem by Rowina Mallick
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The dreams

Two dreams came down to earth one night
From the realm of mist and dew;
One was a dream of the old, old days,
And one was a dream of the new.

One was a dream of a shady lane
That led to the pickerel pond
Where the willows and rushes bowed themselves
To the brown old hills beyond.

And the people that peopled the old-time dream
Were pleasant and fair to see,
And the dreamer he walked with them again
As often of old walked he.

Oh, cool was the wind in the shady lane
That tangled his curly hair!
Oh, sweet was the music the robins made
To the springtime everywhere!

Was it the dew the dream had brought
From yonder midnight skies,
Or was it tears from the dear, dead years
That lay in the dreamer's eyes?

The other dream ran fast and free,
As the moon benignly shed
Her golden grace on the smiling face
In the little trundle-bed.

For 't was a dream of times to come--
Of the glorious noon of day--
Of the summer that follows the careless spring
When the child is done with play.

And 't was a dream of the busy world
Where valorous deeds are done;
Of battles fought in the cause of right,
And of victories nobly won.

It breathed no breath of the dear old home
And the quiet joys of youth;
It gave no glimpse of the good old friends
Or the old-time faith and truth.

But 't was a dream of youthful hopes,
And fast and free it ran,
And it told to a little sleeping child
Of a boy become a man!

These were the dreams that came one night
To earth from yonder sky;
These were the dreams two dreamers dreamed--
My little boy and I.

And in our hearts my boy and I
Were glad that it was so;
He loved to dream of days to come,
And I of long ago.

So from our dreams my boy and I
Unwillingly awoke,
But neither of his precious dream
Unto the other spoke.

Yet of the love we bore those dreams
Gave each his tender sign;
For there was triumph in his eyes--
And there were tears in mine!

poem by Eugene Field
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Dreams, where do they come from?

dreams, where do they come from?
a colourful buddha smiling in his
shapely flowing robes so friendly
on a bed and disappearing into no trace
as i come to have a closer look of him
an antique i had thought a porcelain wonder

is he the harbinger of the dream?
and bed bed bed so many antique beds
in so many styles and shapes
they look so inviting with their ample space

and the name Mizuko, yes
that's the name of the shop
and as i am about to leave
a woman in err flowing bridal garb
i wonder i remember the dream rightly
dreams are always such that you cannot
remember all
and oh yes she comes walking into the shop
and as she looks, i awake in another world

the buddha, the beds, the bride
the myriad questions that pop out
of my head now are a million lotuses
that beg for an answer from the heavens
with their colourful lustrious wide opened hands

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Something You Said

M. lunn/a. gorrie
I didnt stand a chance
I heard a voice within
With just a passing glance
You made the walls cave in
You were gone baby, without a word
I got the message loud and clear
Couldnt help but hear
As you were walkin away
It was somethin you said...
Now I wake up in the night
Strange things in my head
Oh, you did it with your eyes
It musta been something
Musta been something you said
So say it again
Im just delirious
Caught in a waking dream
Did you mean what you said
An did you say what you mean
Mere words - fade away
You had a language I couldnt miss
It was on your lips, but
You didnt get me that way
It was something you said
Now I wake up in the night
Strange things in my head
Oh, you did it with your eyes
It musta been something
Musta been something you said
So say it again
In the middle of the night
All alone in my bed
It was nothin you could write
It musta been something
Musta been something you said

song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Hot Day

Instrumental version called bass line
In time, only time, speak for time, in time
Time calls, time cries, sweet friend of mine
Time could be a place, a spirit and a face
Teardrops through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation speaks in time
The beauty of it is, to waken up to
Shake the hand of time
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the years, hold back the years
Time calls, time cries, sounds like a friend of mine
Time will run to meet, the slick and shiny beat
That creeps to me through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation sleeps in time
The beauty of it is
Well wake up to, shake the hand of time
In time, only time, in time, only time
In time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
Time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Words & music : james kerr, charlie burchill, mel gaynor, derek forbes, michael macneil (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission

song performed by by Simple Minds
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chinese Box

For years, the 'Muse of the Heavenly Gates'
Had stood in the shade of a country lane,
Quietly tending its residents there,
The old, the feeble, the stark insane.
The blurb said, here was a heaven on earth
For the old to pass their declining years,
It said they lived in a quiet content,
The truth was actually quite the reverse.

For Matron Margaret Parker-Lang was
A nun, expelled from the Carmelites,
'Too much of the world', they said of her,
When caught indulging in base delights.
The years had hardened, had turned her hair
An iron grey, and her eyes were cold,
She only smiled when the visitors came
To pay the fees for their aged, in gold.

She didn't encourage their visits, though:
'It's hard, you see, and they get upset,
Best to remember them how they were,
Their memories fade, then they forget.'
Few would revisit the Heavenly Gates,
They left them safe in the nurse's care,
Who drugged the residents every night
So none could complain of their treatment there.

They gathered them all in a stupor, sat
In rows, in front of a giant screen,
Then played them movies in black and white
'Til half the residents there could scream.
The food was bland and inedible,
So soon they wasted to skin and bone,
And those who thought to protest would find
They'd confiscated their telephone.

The visiting Locum, Doctor Zourk,
Had quite a collection of things antique,
Whenever he'd visit a prospect's home,
They'd be committed, within the week.
Then he and the Matron would take their pick
Of anything there that took the eye,
If anyone later complained, they'd say:
'He'd put it out for the rubbish guy! '

But once in 'The Muse of the Heavenly Gates'
The trap would spring, the shades come down,
They'd flourish the papers and help him sign
His house and his title deeds to them.
Again, when his mind was wandering
The Matron would sit, and hold his hand:
'Organ donation, that's the thing,
If you could help, that would be grand! '

I was away in China, when
My father went to the Heavenly Gates,
A note from the Matron said, 'He's fine!
Our lawyers will help him to sort his estate.'
I must have been deaf to the warning bells,
My mind was focused, I let it be,
I never once thought of the Chinese Box
That I'd taken home on a previous leave.

I'd happened on it in a Curio Shop
In the winding back streets of Xi'an,
I'd never quite managed to puzzle it out
And finally left the old box at home.
I knew it was ancient, marked and scored,
With a funny old Chinese symbol too,
The Chinese owner had bowed and smiled
When I asked what the box could really do.

It came as a shock when my father died,
We'd not been together for quite a spell,
By the time that I got back home again,
They'd taken his organs, eyes as well.
Unknown to me, he had signed a form
That I knew he'd not in the world have done,
To give them the right to his organs, once
He had passed away, and his race was run.

I was angry then, but I went on home
And braced myself for another shock,
Things were missing, a Chinese screen
And my beautiful, ancient Chinese Box.
My back was up, my suspicions rife
I sought out the Matron then, to talk,
But found her dead on the slab back there,
Dismembered by locum, Doctor Zourk.

He'd taken some of her organs out,
They sat in the open fridge nearby,
But then she coughed, and she sat up straight,
Let out a horrible, piercing cry.
The doctor staggered and ran from the room
Like a sprinter, racing right out of the blocks,
'Watch for that old antique, ' she hissed,
'The dragon that came in the Chinese Box! '

She was breathing for barely a minute more
As she fell back onto the blood-soaked deck,
But what she managed to whisper there
Made the hairs rise up on the back of my neck,
She'd solved the puzzle and opened the box
When the drawer slid out with a sudden bang,
For what had jumped out and bitten her then
Was the Dragon of Emperor Qin Shi Huang.

The dragon's venom had paralyzed her,
So Zourk had thought she was good and dead,
He'd wanted the Box for himself, you see,
But she had raided our house, instead.
He thought he could sell her organs then,
And pick up the box as a plus, as well,
Collectors become more fanatical when
On that short sharp road to a personal hell!

The Box sits there by the mantelpiece
Wherever I travel, or think to roam,
I've travelled on back to China, so
The Dragon will feel that it's safe at home.
I heard that the Doctor is doing time
For the gruesome murder of Matron Lang,
Thank God - I haven't been introduced
To the Dragon of Emperor Qin Shi Huang.

25 October 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can You Make Me Dream Again?

Can you make me dream again
or are all my dreams just lost?
I haven't been able to dream anymore
and oh the wakefulness it's cost.
I lie there thinking something is wrong
but yet my days are fine.
And I understand between night and day
there is a very fine line.
What I can't understand is where dreams go
or why they have taken flight?
They say we all dream but where are mine?
Are they flying around like a kite?
If that's the case let me catch the string
and bring them back to my bed.
Then maybe they'll visit my weary self
and quiet my troubled head.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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the crystal (Part One of a True Experience)

she came to my dream -
a frightening silhouette
of a curly hair woman
a overbearing figure
in chilling silence
at the haunted fashion store
i closed down years back

twice she visited me in my dream
that same night

by the road she had stood
in a long bright eerie lacy red gown
her ghastly presence was so overpowering
my hair stood on ends

i saw her somber face this time
a cold face chiselled
probably by years of loneliness

i ordered my friend to drive fast
but fast as we could
she suddenly flew, she flew...
her bright red gown
flapping fiercely in the wind

my fear ran into a spasm

and in a split second
my expectations came true
she had opened the door
to sit right behind us

the world churned

i awoke to a dark room
in the dead silence of night
and a sweaty chill that has
not visited me for a long long time

and.....i began to touch the
round lovely crystal
i bought just a night ago

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Dream a Dream