Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Adrianna Roe Jul 2018
I stealthily stepped
Along dark and intricate corridors
Walls lined with somber tapestries
Led deeper and deeper
Into the ebony blackness
Dark and eery chambers
Black oaken floors
Comfortless antiques tattered and unkept
Dusty draperies adorned the walls
I breathed in an atmosphere of sorrow
There was decay in the air
Isabelle Apr 2017
There is this girl
Who appears out of nowhere

She looks at me
She smiles at me

A look that cuts straight to my core
Waking up my veins, my body, my soul

A smile that pierces through my heart
like a billion of Cupid’s arrows

On top of the other, one right on the top of the other
Then another on top of the other, arrow after arrow

My soul

My heart

And this is the part of the dream
Where most girls will grab your hand

Where most girls will embrace you
Kiss you, saves you

But this girl isn’t the same
Isn’t the same with most girls

This girl didn’t save me
This girl holds my hand

She smiles again
And asked “are you ready?”

And finally I am
I am ready

She didn’t save me, together we fall
No, we didn’t fall, we jumped

And this is the part of the dream where
as we were falling into each other

I woke up, I woke up
Too bad I woke up

It could be perfect, this girl
But it was just a dream

This girl..
Just a dream..
Because I couldn't sleep. Ugh.
Inspired by This Girl.
Jim Davis Apr 2017
When sleeping poets do dream
Do they dream at certain times
the same dreams as us, you, or I
Long love dreams without an end

Spiders winding and toads weaving
Tiny cockle shells or huge daffodils
Cold hearts melted or fried ones too
Loves not gone the other way again

Falling off, falling in, falling down
Purpled eyed women and wiggly men
Nightmares arriving never in time
Time speeding up to stand still again

Summer nights in dripping red clouds
Rain falling up or tasting sour winds
Chased once around the world twice
Losing anyway the long way back in

Winning big green coins for jumping
slow trains to nowhere, now there anywhere,
and everywhere not here,
running on tilted electrified blue time

Inhaling the soft touch of perfect love
including all the ugly ingrown warts
Coughing up butterflies into the pool
with the squishy muddy zombie eyes

Echoes heard louder with both eyes
Coloring skies without knowing why
Flights to there with wings of flame
Swallowing rainbows to taste the gold

Colors amongst us walking, talking
Phantasmal fast riding beasts
sinuously moaning oh white *******
drifting with silver temptation winds

Tripping over sounds under tall feet
blowing them in retort not too,
but three, five and one dime more
Fantastical things, ordinary for all

Then perhaps, they maybe dream
Mostly all the same as us, you or I
Of course, that may mean, we,
Could someday be real poets, three

Yet we know the biggest difference
Between a real poet or not, must be
not so much in sleeping dreams
but in those precious awakening dreams

©  2017 Jim Davis
Actually posted this the day before (22 April) HP theme of today (23 April) as "dreams", thus a truly prescient dreaming! , #npmdream
Isabelle Apr 2017
She is always afraid of waking up

Because her dreams die when she does

Her dreams fade away

fades away into reality

fades away


Too busy to write so I'll just repost this old piece of mine
In my dreams, we are giants
with palms wide enough to hold the earth in,
keeping it still, freezing the human
machinations below and watching them
run about like ants when we let go.

In my dreams, you take the stars
out of my eyes and put them
in your mouth, constellations on
your tongue that I can't make out, and then
we make out, those stars mingling
between us, sizzling and sharp, cutting
the insides of my cheeks like razor blades.

In my dreams, you are hungry
and cruel, so when I wake up to the ruins
of a love that looks more like a suicide
attempt than a refuge, I find myself
wishing you had the decency to hate me.

In my dreams, we're nightmares.
In my dreams, you set everything on fire.
In my dreams, smoke curls down our throats,
and in the morning, you taste like ash.
rushed i know
Lydia Apr 2017
I miss the sincerity
The oblivious sort of floating
Reaching out and swimming in galaxies
It's fascinating to leave my feet on the ground
Brilliant to swim in place and breath in fluid
I couldn't feel myself
All I could feel was oxygen, molecule by molecule
The atmosphere bent around me piece by piece
I held onto nothing but I didn't drift off
I held fast to everything that I've never been able to feel
I let the universe soak my skin to my bones and chew on my lips
And my pillowcase made an excellent towel
"A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it." -Charles Dickens, "A Tale of Two Cities"

Please comment :)

— The End —