SM – the two of us have had years of bouncing our poems off each other (we are highly competitive!), thanks for the comment! And now for two completely different poems that both stem from the same subject – dreams. I have very vivid and sometimes (read: frequently) insane dreams. This first one, however, is reflective. The next one is an indication of just how crazy my dreams sometimes get.
What are dreams?
What is this thing that drives a man?
It cannot be touched, cannot be tainted
It remains unsullied by the prying fingers of others
And though it may seem
That the dream is lost, broken
It will grow again
Like a small shoot in the frost
A flash of colour amongst the cold snow
That will one day reach the skies
A mighty beanstalk that can be climbed
By even the smallest of people
Can cross the widest of oceans
Traverse the largest of deserts;
He will continue to sow the seeds of ambition
And water with them with hope
And no one, no matter how hard they try
Will ever be able to destroy these evergreen dreams
For they alone belong to the dreamer
And, against all odds
He will continue to plant with care
For who knows
Or dares
To dream?
Right, serious part over, wacky part starting…
I had an adventure that was inside my head
When I woke up one morning to find myself dead.
And came upon a small table that was really a chair.
Upon it was ice cream which was served piping hot
And a bowl of string beans which were tied in a knot.
And gave a lame horse a piggy-back ride.
They really were fine, and they fitted him fair.
Next door was a shop that sold cream cakes and sand
Which were widely said to be best in the land.
And after we munched on some light of the day.
I was feeling quite bored, so we went to the fair
Which was almost invisible, and made out of hair.
At the end of the day, when the stars had all gone,
I was the last person left, the only one.
And I realised, to my great surprise and delight
It was actually still the middle of the night.
I looked out my window (not sure how I got back)