He walks alone in the cold winter snow,
The fire that once burnt bright
Put out its final glow.
In his heart you see no fight,
In his eyes there was no more light.
The baggage of dreams he left behind,
Caved in by thick unforgiving layers of white.
As though a gatekeeper of some kind,
Denying him return oblivious to his plight.
So with slow and heavy strides,
I was a hopeful actress, but so far had only been offered bit parts,
And I fought to pay the bills, as a starlit owl, working after dark.
But because I had such huge dreams, I had been struggling for years,
Like a heart brimming with big emotions, is holding back the tears!
I knew I was an amazing actress, yet there were many others like me,
Making it quite hard to choose, like selecting cherries from a tree.
And there were times when I wondered, if I'd ever hit the big time,
aimlessly walking down, the street
eyes fixed afar,
don’t seem to see
a vehicle comes to an instant halt
meters from her empty frame
for her mind -flew off into the wide blue yonder
her dreams left already
roaming the length and breadth of the wide universe
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.
He catches dust o' dreams to carry in his sack,
The dust a falling star leaves shining in its track,
He walks the milky-way, then down the dark-staired skies,
His tinkling footsteps hush the world with lullabies.
And when he reaches you, his fragrant gentle hands
Fill deep your drowsy eyes with fairy golden sands.
Whether in night raptures
or in the amber noonday
The mind often escapes
to that magical place,
of deepest heart desires!
Some are fulfilled, maybe,
taking on colorful wings
like lazy summertime's
wafting, painted lady.
Sacred poetry feeds the soul, like slow rhythms of ever green nature,
And the heartbeat's anticipation of sooner, finding satisfaction in later.
Anything is possible in verse, as it flows from fanciful, unbound mind,
Giving sublime inspiration and comfort, in vibrant styles, one of a kind.
Poetry is as vital to wholesome living, as is pursuing your rosy dream,
Though the sun reigns at lemon noonday, under thick clouds of cream!
When you find yourself wandering, poesy rhythm will guide your feet,
In the dance of self discovery and insight, which makes life complete.
Poetry warms eager hearts steadily, and adds pure romance to living,
Like gazing at the twinkling Milky Way, and stars which keep on giving.
you deserve to be free,
yet you walk through a trench of such great misery.
and when a helping hand is drawn,
you wave it away and just keep marching on.
your heart is in shackles,
your thoughts are unclear,
when you sleep, do you dream of having no fear?
I’ve been around for a long time
I have seen a lot of things
I have seen you
When you were a small child enchanted by how wonderful I made the night sky
When you went to the mountains and spent the whole night looking up at me
When you look out your window and think about how expansive I really am
People look up at me
They look towards me and envision their dreams
The fields are bursting
and jaded trees await fate,
among crowding blooms.
Moonlit nights attract mauve dreams.
The lusty year has ripened.