Oh, my dreams
Whither goest thou?
Oh, youth long past
What dreams I had
Of things to be
Worlds to come
Poetry
Songs sung to the future
My future
Whatever may it be
Places to see
Who, what and how
To see a world free
of constraints
Perhaps to marry
But who would want to marry me
Years gone by now
Where did those dreams conspire to go
Whither lost soul
Years of isolation
Desperation
Reconciliation to a life without
Dreams
Yet all is not lost
I see where bide my dreams
They are not gone
They are but transformed
Metamorphosis it seems
Changed into the form of little children
Infants with dreams of their own
Who grow and learn within their dreamscape
Thus the dream lives on
About the Creator
Raymond G. Taylor
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts7 days ago in Longevity
Comments (6)
Dreams of lost youth, beautiful, sad and filled with longing. This is a wonderful poem, Ray. And of course loved the Man Ray!
But if my dream came true, I'd end up in prison if I get caught, lol. Loved your poem!
I love that last line about dreams living on through children. Just beautiful.
As do we, vicariously through them.
Time on earth is short, that's for sure...those dreams... loved it
Nicely done! Loved where you took it and where it ended.