Thursday, January 12, 2012

The Poem of His Dreams

From black of night a spark ignites:
A hope, a dream, a shining light.
The dream burns in his heart as fire,
O'er time the dream does never tire.

He wakes, he dreams – then waking dreams;
The world is never what it seems.
Reality falls far behind
And fantasy consumes his mind.

With day he dreams, with night he dreams,
The world is never what it seems.
He wanders through a land unknown,
And writes his ventures all alone.

His future there, from dreams is clear,
From never-ending dreams of flare.
He writes, he dreams; he writes, he dreams,
The world is never what it seems.

3 comments:

  1. Well done. I really enjoyed the rhythm you set with this piece. The first stanza is so perfect it could stand alone!!!

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  2. I enjoyed this poem too. I loved the use of repetition in your poem. The last two lines really stood out to me. "He writes, he dreams; he writes, he dreams, The world is never what it seems." This line flows really well.

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  3. Lillie: Thank you! I've never thought of the first stanza standing alone - it was actually the third one that came to me (and then the rest was built around it).

    R. J.: Thanks :) I enjoy the repetition too :)

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