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Fresh Dream
I wandered through
my nightly dream
And through it all
a recurrent theme
The day before
had brought a joy
That made me feel
once more a boy
Though my heart
might be a flutter
Streams of words
in dream I’d utter
But now I try
to recall to write
The dreams I had
recede from sight
No worries though,
I’ll dream again
And then the words
will return again
And I’ll keep a notepad
at my bedside. …
i like this poem
Steve An excellent South African poet once told me: "Do not linger on the poetry of the past; tomorrow will bring its own poetry ..." That is so true. Love Myra
Fresh Eyes i dreamed a dream in soft pastel and sailed by a lighted window the poet sat with hand on brow without a verse or inuendo flame burned low in melted wax upon his face a peaceful smile no pen in hand, as he relaxed with fresh eyes for poetic style then, in a flash began to pen a dream of yesterday's pillow recalling climbing trees and fen and sheep shaped clouds a billow i saw words tumblin' from his sky till the poetry was complete and heard his lowly whispered sigh for the dreams of dusty sheet