Stories and dreams
Stories and dreams
~
Still writing stories and dreams
Into poetry the essence of life
Waiting to become written
Into a real memory
If every poem tells a tale
It becomes a step away from reality
A hope held, the fantasy
And all of it is beautiful
Even in the deepest tragedy
Sewn through verse to be spoken
In words carefully chose
Picked like flowers gently
Into the vase upon the page
Replacing dying laments
Picked so long ago
That even dreams forget
And so it goes on without end
Writing into the night
Stories and dreams all waiting
To become a real memory
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Related quotes
18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Dreamer's Poet
Dreamers dream
dreaming that
all their dreams are dreams;
and is reality then multiple-shaped
or itself a dream?
If dreams are things not real or true
or don't yet exist
then what does it mean for dreamer to
act upon the dream and bring it forth
into reality?
Was the dream just reality
not yet existent;
in waiting so to speak?
Or was it live
always there
waiting to be discovered?
Seems to me
this is much like a poem;
how the poem comes to be-
unless, of course,
the poet
is a dream too,
outside reality
paradoxical conundrum
don't you see?
And more:
could it be the Dreamer's Poet
in dreaming thus
creates the Poet
and the Poetry
both of which
become Reality
Thus?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Dear Friend
i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,
i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests
and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence
as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)
there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,
please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:
write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Revolution Poetry Is....!
Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?
Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!
I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!
Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!
Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!
poem by Ramesh T A
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That Life
I am that man
That tells stories of the past
Of that life
That I once had
Of endless scars on my heart and mind
That never seem to heal
Of things that I have seen
That life, that still doesn't seem real
I am that survivor
From that world of dreams
Dreams that I should never have had
And yet
That life, was that life
And that was the life, that,
I once had
poem by Clyde Bryson
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After All Hymn
After all I am human
And I get mad sometimes
Sometimes it is hard for me to think of something else in
Order to get rid of my anger
But I think I have to replace it with poetry
Poetry is my life
And I live writing poetry
Is poetry just a scribbling that doesn't make sense?
No
Poetry are feelings that are wrtten on a piece of paper or in the computer Scream
Poetry makes sense because every word I carefully select
And there are other words that might pop out of my mind
That I connect with the words in my heart
Do I use strong words in my poetry?
Yes I use strong words
Do I offend my readers with the words I pick?
That Is something that I try not to do
AAafter all
I am human and I do make mistakes
But after I make mistakes I try to move to the next step so I never get Stuck with my mistake
Yes poetry is my voice that is a message that I am trying hard to give to My readers
There are so many different styles of poetry
Haiku, rhiming, and free style
But I always stick with the free style of poetry
I find that it is the style that sooths me just fine
After all
I try very hard to live a modest life that is very plain and simple
From the one I lived 16 years ago
What is wrong to live a life of luxury to me?
First I need to have the money to live a luxurious life
The second part is that I don't want anything to do with a luxurious life
Because I am happy living my simple life
And I hope to live that simple life forever
I want to have dreams only and I don't wish them to turn into reality in My Life
Because I know that my dreams will be dreams
No I can't sell my dreams
Because my dreams are only fantasies that I face every night when I sleep In my bed
And after all I will always be human
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Street Of Dreams
I heard the sound of voices in the night
Spellbound there was someone calling
I looked around no one was in sight
Pulled down I just kept on falling
Ive seen this place before
You were standing by my side
Ive seen your face before tonight
Maybe I just see what I want it to be
I know its a mystery
Do you remember me on a street of dreams
Running through my memory
On the street of dreams
There you stood a distant memory
So good like we never parted
Said to myself I knew youd set me free
And here we are right back where we started
Soemthings come over me
And I dont know what to feel
Maybe this fantasy is real
Now I know I see what I want it to be
But its still a mystery
Do you remember me on the street of dreams
Running through my memory
On the street of dreams
You are on every face I see
On the street of dreams
Solo
Tell me have you always been
On the street of dreams
Will we ever meet again my friend
Do you know just what it meand to be
On the street of dreams
Never know just who youll see do ya
On the street of dreams
You can be who you want to be oh yeah
I can hear you calling me
I can feel you haunting me
Haunting me
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling
In dreams I was
Falling
But in reality I was
Leaping
In dreams I was
Crying
But in reality I was
Waiting
Is there a difference?
In dreams I was
Running
But in reality I was
Walking
In dreams I was
Dying
But in reality I was
Living,
Catching,
Helping,
But helpless,
Watching the earth die
Only In My Dreams
Verse 1:
Every time Im telling secrets
I remember how it used to be
And I realized how much I miss you
And I realize how it feels to be free
Now I see Im up to no good (no, no, no)
And I wanna start again
Cant remember when I felt good (baby)
No I cant remember when
Chorus:
No, only in my dreams
As real as it may seem
It was only in my dreams
Verse 2:
Couldnt see how much I missed you (now I do)
Couldnt see how much it meant
Now I see my world come tumbling down
(tumbling down my world)
Now I see the road is bent
If I only once could hold you (no, no, no)
And remember how it used to be
If only I could scold you
And forget how it feels to be free
Chorus
No, no, no, no, only in my dreams
As real as it may seem
It was only in my dreams
Chorus
No, no, no, no, only in my dreams
As real as it may seem
It was only in my dreams
No, no, no, only in my dreams
As real as it may seem
It was only in my dreams
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unbroken words
Unbroken words
~
My words lay unbroken
Left imprinted across the page
Thought filled feelings
Like memories waiting to be read
Past loves and passions I’ve known
Days when heartache and anger
Seemed to fill the air about me
I sift through old papers
Trying to remember or forget
Dependent on the stories written
How I have changed and yet not
Another thought, another feeling
Expressed in the same old tired way
Unbroken words show a dairy
Of fantasy and beauty caught
In a verse a tale or song remains
As true as it was written
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Stories
Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.
26 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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Into the Blue Memory
This is a poem not a song...
I wrote it like that on purpose,
that's because I wanted this poem to
sing to you like if it was being sung
like an opera, I wanted this to fill
your heart with poetry and song...
This was inspired by the song
'Ghost Love Score' by Nightwish
Into the Blue Memory
By: Adam M. Snow
A child will find the way,
in a night, and in a day,
with the moment still,
waking the dreams,
glorious and free,
into the blue memory.
Redeeming childhood,
upon advent dream,
A journey worth telling,
of this soon destiny.
Angels singing broken song,
can't help but sing along.
Open eyes of blinded sorrow,
looking towards the endless morrow.
Who is she, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the deep approached him,
spoke his dreams, his memory,
mend his broken heart,
pressed out like a key,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will he find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting his way,
into the ever darkening day.
Nevermore does he ache,
when he sleep, he's still awake,
longing for true love,
cold and alone he waits,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Who is he, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the sea approached her,
spoke her dreams, her memory,
mend her broken heart,
free her from her curse,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will she find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting her way,
into the ever darkening day.
The world she forsake,
when she sleep, she's still awake,
longing for her love,
on this dreary night,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Together they seek,
not self-effacing nor meek,
but the touch of pure love,
to mend their broken heart.
Together they search,
for themselves once lost,
with their vowing dreams the cost,
to find, there is only one,
riding throughout the wind,
being together passed the end,
falling into the arms,
of an angel's joyous charms,
to the sight of lovers birth,
reigning down all over the Earth.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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In My Dreams I Am Lost
IN MY DREAMS I AM LOST
In my dreams I am lost
I take the wrong road
I cannot find my way home-
In my waking life this morning
I am lost -
The books piled high waiting to be read
The endless droll of others never-ending pages-
I am lost cold
And only writing my only true work
Only writing these words now
Brings me a bit of hope a bit of a sense
that I might mean something somehow
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dreams We Had
Dreams we had
as a youth,
dreams long gone.
Dreams not fulfilled,
only talk was done,
dreams faded away.
Walk toward your dreams,
not away from them,
dreams can become real.
Your youth only stays
for a short moment,
then like a vapor, its gone.
Chase your dreams now,
no matter what anyone may say,
dreams can come true.
I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night
I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT
I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.
I go back to where I am
And begin again.
There is always a poem if one is patient enough.
But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?
I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.
This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence
One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -
Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Words To Be Written
Words can be said, they can be written
they can be funny or sad or informed
words are sought after by everyone
papers, scripts, books, letters or texts
they can gossip, tattle or lie
honest, trust worthy, confusing
written to story or rhyme to rhythm
they can be found in our minds
written or printed they are strong
brought together the bring magic
imaginations, fantasy, real life
many stories and songs by words
have touched the soul with in
my words are to enlighten and entertain your mind
to put you in places we never dreamed
and to think I could of done that
my words to you is my soul to share
written with love, hate and sorrow
take the time to enjoy the words
words make ours dreams come true
poem by Michael Peterson
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Nightwatch
In the night, when a mist of sleep surrounds me
You come to me and hold me tight, winding your body all around me
And everywhere you touch I feel, that my love for you is much too real
Oh, its the same damn thing, wanting you in my dreams
Its the same damn thing, wanting you in my dreams
Sleepwalkin - I know every move you make, and every word I say
Keep it comin, comin - comin on stronger, this time Im going all the way
Is this moment just a fantasy, or a vision of what will be
Oh, its the same damn thing, wanting you in my dreams
Every night the same thing, wanting you in my dreams
(dreams fade away)
I better find you in my days, or Im losin you to the nights
Its the same thing - every night
Its the same thing - oh, youre so right
Its the same thing - wanting you
(instrumental break)
And tonight, evenings shadows are sure to find me
On my nightwatch, waiting for the warmth of you beside me
And every second that youre here I feel, this dream is real
And its the same damn thing, its the same thing
Its the same damn thing, wanting you in my dreams, dreams
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is Always Another Poem
THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER POEM
There is always another poem
Waiting to be written.
But when it comes
Who knows
If it is Real
Or not.
Our dreams and our life too
Come to us
Unexpected.
Do we know
In our heart of hearts
When they are real
Or whether only
Empty lines
No endlessly rewriting
Will redeem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dreams
When then a child I had brave dreams of things that might just be
As I grow older so it seems those dreams are part of me
The longing and the wistfulness that out of dreams are made
Are by life's beauty lesser things and fall into the shade
Of what is real and what is not and so our dreams become
The hope that lies inside of us and forever drives us on
For dreams are dreams when all is said and dreams are wafer thin
And the magic that we have in life comes only from within.
poem by David Keig
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The fear...
Yet another blank page I see before me,
Waiting to be bathed in my words,
Emotions spill out like a fountain of feelings,
The emptiness scares me for what if I may not fill it,
What if I cannot bring the light of life to my dreams,
The loneliness of a barren heart failing me,
That I may fall deeper into complete nothingness,
Shall my dreams ever cease to be?
Will my words dry up and my heart wither?
Yet once again my story springs to life upon the page,
And my fear is but a memory...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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