"daydreamers" poems
The clerk behind the coffee counter,
she stares out the window
onto the sunny street, lost in thought.
Her half smile on that young face
is an art exhibit of a daydream
about a possible future.
An old woman at a nearby table,
she stares out the same window.
Her eyes glossed over,
they indicate she's remembering
the good moments long past.
The coffee shop daydreamers
have much in common.
-Ron Gavalik
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
Oh my little daydreamer,
Dreaming of better days
Dreaming of cotton candy clouds
and a sky you see your reflection in
Didn't anyone tell you silly little dreamer?
You can have anything you dream?
Open your mind, your soul, your heart
You are stronger than you believe
Daydreamer of mine,
Please don't grow up to be masochistic
Be a soldier that defeats any obstacle
Be a lover that loves in the loveliest of ways
My darling little dreamer
Be the dreamer of dreams for all of those who can't
For those of us who have fallen
For the ones who used to be daydreamers
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Daydreamer thinking this world is something it's not.
Standing on stairs made out of air, climbing higher and higher with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back.
With the dark drying up everywhere behind him.
His dreams brighten up this world that does not know it's black.
The daydreamer is fighting off this fog that is trying to tear his mind out from him and not even knowing.
Daydreamers battling with there eyes closed softly.
Trying to forget the ugliest days, and making the day blossom in their mind till the day is bright with a incomprehensible glow masking all the gray and loneliness.
The daydreamer holds on to the hope that everything will be alright someday.
Never dampening that hope, but feeds it with their Anticipation on what the future may bring.
Daydreamer is the only one when they close their eyes it's not dark, it's not dim, it's bright.
And not only seeing the light as an adventure and a reality, but also the dark.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
Yellow spheres are terror to the daydreamers
whirling past faces disgraces grazing ears
Recollections of multipurpose room taunts
And Mr. Neptune's rolled eyes as he gives up
Just send me to my fortress of books n poetry
Let me slip away unnoticed and forgotten
between the blue carpet and shelves inside
Let me bang my head on the laminated particle board
I disappear in here where it's just me and three thousand years
floating historically through black & white epochs
Alone, the world is heavy but not so much as my feet
planted and feigning mobility as roots become weeds
I think how dumb it is to talk of my Soul or to sing in the shower
or my car or alone in my apartment with stereo blasting
It's strange how the red is everywhere and I can't imagine
any longer when I'll finally need to draw a line
For you are not with me as I am with me and I'm green
But I can't say if it's in my stomach or in my eyes
And despite the heaviness I feel like I could be swept away
I could flutter up like one of those winglike seeds in Spring
Heaven is no place outside either, and I suddenly remember
That this all started with a love for the color orange
And I realize the silliness of red and yellow by themselves,
still wondering if I am bathed or baked in the warmth.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
the hopeless daydreamers,
are the best kind of people,
because they have
low expectations
and won't get too high,
just so they can sink too low.
life is so much
easier when you have
no hope,
because you already
know that all
of your dreams
will be crushed
by destiny
and karma.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
A lost in time, forgotten track
colorless, washed out, hollowed rather
meaningless if you were to describe it
used to write all the time, used to dream
in the bus, in bed as well, it has all
said its bitter farewell, oh dearie!
oh my beloved!, spare me of this cruel
misery filled path, I now cross
some sort of emotionless symphony
worthless effort, faded paint
insignificant piece of poetry
a fallen ode to legacies, significance
and memories, all fantasies
dreams, hopes and tales of stargazers
daydreamers and hopeless romantics
have been lead astray, by this
oh this filthy tray of decandence
forsaking a mournful heart
an adulterated soul...
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
My mind is quite like the world I live..
Corrupted....
Sin in a mural of fear...
I've plagued the Daydreamers...
Killed off their first borns...
With fantasies of success...
In defeat they shall mourn ...
Cuz Tomorrow will never come..
cause it will always be today..
when you wake up
go to sleep
No matter what you say....
When the sunrises you will be in Today..
The sickness this disease,
will seep from my brain..
and or it seeped there, still,
I will proclaim that
I'm Pyscho for real....
You just haven't accepted
what you really feel...
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
Calling all day dreamers,
Keep your eyes shut
Don’t ever open them to this brainwashed society
Grip onto your soul before they come to take it away
Hide all your thoughts for they are quite possessive
Remind yourself that to be different in a world full of copies
Is to be a diamond in a pond full of rocks
Hold onto your heart as they come around with a hammer
Picture a daisy instead of the trash they all left behind
Imagine it is all just a fiction to numb the pain
Pretend the hurt in the world can all be cured with a band aid
Attempt to smile even when there is nothing worth smiling
Stay dreaming in this beautiful nightmare
Find the good hidden beneath these restless souls
Wear your crown of flowers although you are nothing but a peasant
Dance until the judgement is felt around the room
Calling all day dreamers,
Don’t ever wake up.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Love is a Rainstorm.
It has its strengths and weaknesses.
Puddles of memories everywhere.
Causing one to want to write about it.
Droplets of water kissing many faces.
Hot cocoa and marshmallows,
One... Two... Three... And so on.
Scented candles lighting up the night.
Dark, full clouds blocking the sun's smile.
Little ones jumping from puddle to puddle.
Hear the laughter. Enjoyment from the rain.
Staying indoors with love ones.
Daydreamers wondering when the rain will move along.
The rain sings a sweet lullaby of their choice.
Washing away yesterday.
Lovely to fall asleep to.
Will it rain tomorrow??
Throw pajamas in the dryer
so that they're warm when falling asleep.
As well with blankets.
Nighttime has come.
Cuddle, drink hot cocoa with rich marshmallows,
warm blankets and Pajamas, all with a good movie.
And all done with a lovely companion.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
a letter is just a piece of paper
and ink is just a mess if it falls off a table
these are incredibly simple things but
i want to make them special
and special is a very broad term but
i mean as special as that burning, flaming desire to
give other people our entire lives worth of special
so if i shape the mess into words
and i craft the paper into a message
could you understand what special truly means to me
could you realize it encompasses all that you are
and could you hold me the way
pieces of paper soak up ink and
symbols soak up meaning and
romantic daydreamers soak up beautiful fantasies
with this burning, flaming desire i’ve lit the candlestick at both ends
crafting carefully the contents of my heart
into this letter for you.
and in calligraphy, too.
because i want to shape the ink to fit
the curves of your lips when you smile
and the creases of the paper to bend
your heart into knots like mine,
and you could imagine your favorite word
in my handwriting
and sometimes the meaning of special will be me
just as much as it is you
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 4:32 PM UTC
Daydreamer
Turn your head a notch
and we'll see that perfect
dot beside your nose.
Tell me,
even though
sanity may jettison
and stroll down
the lane as naked
as a jay bird.
you remember,
that I had on too many clothes
or not enough and neither one
at the appropriate time,
still,
I can't soften
the discard-
the tint of rose
from my cheeks or the
titan grip on my jugular.
Remind me still ,
with patience,
like every other
seven year old
wearing a zirconium,
Tiaras, pink taffeta
and soft as night ballet
slippers,
that it's o.k.
to sit on my spotted pony
dreaming,
that all princes
will have a heart of gold.
That promises mean
something
even to spectra
and daydreamers...
we stopped laughing
when
the song ended
with the world spinning
and I fell down
calling your name
on the back
street of my worst
nightmare coming true.
Remind me gently,
That best friends can't say
I love you
and still be best friends,
well, I already knew,
it just might be that
all the time my eyes
were wide open
they just
wouldn't stop listening
to the skipping thud of
my pulse.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
dust off your shoes
lets leave this town,
holding hands-
finding ourselves
lost in these daydreams.
dust off your shoes
we're leaving this town-
they won't even notice
that we're not around.
they'll be busy looking down-
and we'll be bouncin' from cloud to cloud
celebrating our daydreams.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
What else there is in life
Other than our struggle to thrive
The rest are just bluffs
By those, who are not worthy enough
Unworthy enough
To face the world's ravaging
But worthy enough
To sit tight and keep dreaming
To keep on dreaming, and dreaming
By their sleep in the night
By their wake in the day
Comes silently screaming, and screaming
They want change, difference, recognition
Things they don't possess, nor see
Which they will achieve and be
With the might of their creation
The dreams they dream, are different
The dreams they dream, are irrelevant
They escapes from this darkness
Into a world they created, upon the rubbles of their sadness
Pain, misery, disappointment
Carved in, like a mine of silver
As they keep on sitting, sleeping, wondering
As they keep on dreaming, and dreaming
They have power over their world
They have control over their universe
They are the gods of their own
They are the ones we ignore
pummeled down by society
abandoned their own sanity
But they will live on
Oh, yes, the daydreamers lives on
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
I've been sleep deprived for since
I cannot even remember.
I look up and I see your smile:
A blasphemous hallucination,
But a welcome one, nonetheless
(Insomnia has never been fond of
Daydreamers like myself.)
"I don't know what I want"
But I do.
Today I looked out the window,
As the sun danced around;
Such a beautiful day to dream.
I've memorized my script,
I know what to say,
I know what to do,
I know how to speak,
I know how to move,
But the timing just isn't right--
Or is it?
You tell me.
Tell me, tell me, tell me!
Your smile is my cue--
(Will you laugh for me too?)
Do you want to know a secret, love?
Come closer, let me tell you..
Let me press my finger to your lips,
Let my lips brush your ear,
Let me whisper what you already know,
But I know you long to hear.
I'm looking out the window now,
Counting all the stars;
What a beautiful night to...
I know my part on this stage:
I live to please--
But please,
Tell me who you are,
Tell me who you are,
And
Tell me who you are..
Tell me slowly,
Tell me completely,
Tell me everything,
So I'll never forget,
So that I may keep your words in an ink bottle
On the writing desk of my mind,
So that I can have your smile on my lips,
As I sing along with the radio,
So that I can picture your face,
In my chemical induced dreamland,
When sleep never wants to come.
May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
Write a poem about anything.
Rip the page from the book and make a paper plane. The simple ones we made as children.
When I was a kid we would breathe into the wings of a paper plane like somehow we had the lungs of God and that must be how he kept planes in the sky, because even then we knew that living isn’t just breathing but the application of breath. So breath into yours, and let that paper plane poem fly. Believe without questioning that air and words can keep anything alive, for what is God but words that come to life when the world feels dark and empty.
My mirror always gives advice like, consider the big picture, but always pay attention to detail.
All my gods don’t pay attention to detail and I don’t blame them, there’s over 7 billion details. So maybe we all don’t matter the same, but at some point we all believed that out breaths could keep paper planes in the sky, at some point we all believed that God will make our dreams come true.
So today I am writing poems and making planes and taking breaths so deep the paper ripples from the wind of my lungs. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m trying.
Men like me, we daydreamers, we caterpillars trying to be birds but we’ll settle for butterflies. But my best friend, she is a tree, planted deep but reaching for the sky, shedding leaves in autumn cos she knows that even the ground needs a blanket from the cold.
All my gods don’t pay attention to detail, but my best friend, she is human and kind or at least she tries.
We still fear the empty in a half full glass, but we know we need air as much as we need water. So we drink, half believing we are all gods in charge of our planes. And we breath, as humans, capable of much better.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
I like these dim blue lights
They make me feel at ease
They say the aesthetic isn’t about the reality, but about the mentality
That’s the tricky thing about life you see
What we see and what we feel
Are never nearly the same
Sometimes I’ll just sleep
to dream
Daydreamers, Radiohead said they never learn
Beyond the point of no return
Do you know what it’s like
to sit calmly with chaos all around you
because you’re imagining being free
Dreaming—it can
help us survive unbearable realities
They say this is real
But what you feel—
it can heal
It can be as simple as
The aura of these
Dim blue lights
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 1:43 AM UTC
These dreams are what we have to build on
What we have come to know
Our minds have been ravaged
These voices echoed so many times
Controlling who we are, and how we get by
The road seems long as ever
As we grow restless to escape this place
As I remember
I am everything I have ever wanted, And everything you didn't want for me.
All I wanted was someone who believed in me.
We are daydreamers
With aspirations that touch the sky
And now I know this is where I lie
We may be blind
But we can see what we were meant to be
All I know is that this means so much to me
Tired hands and waking eyes
Will tell the story of how we lived our lives
As I fall in my final days
These are the memories that will never fade away.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Looking back as I pass
These paths that I’ve walked
People talk so rumors sparked
Rather than vary off task, I just laugh – it’s the past.
I’m not distracted by cash or fast ***
My state of mind is first class
A mastermind in a beginners class
Mass appeal, appealing to the mass
Since ethics and morals clash
Good guys finish last
Make no mistake
I’m wide awake chasing fate
Daydreamers; too busy chasing
Dreams so they can’t relate.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
*i hope you like the stars
that i painstakingly painted for you
i tell you, it took hours for them to
dry and i really ******* hope
that they last longer than us
you leave me wild and scarily vulnerable,
cracking open, full of emotion, but
in awe and horrified of my own
capabilities
you've brought me to my knees with
such a brilliant display of passion
so great i cannot begin to fathom how you
even had it in you*
*but what of it
you said we were over
so i guess i'm back to trying to
paint the stars for some other*
daydreamer
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
To see reality
But beyond the scope
With a pair of daydreamers
Focused within the span
Below or within the fantasy
That frightens or dictates
The odds of misery.
To perceive a blurry vision
Yet a clear imagination
Of what is yet to be seen
Or what is to ever commence
Never aware of what to believe
For the mischief of every storyteller
Uninvited yet entertained
Delivers free delirium.
In a thoroughgoing reform
Of every ongoing mend
Hoping to resurrect
The peaceful beginnings
And end every desolation.
To roll the orbs of fortune-tellers
As if to find any solution
But to end up feeling emptiness
That invades the mighty borough
So decides to fill with darkness
Such pair of daydreamers
And to let the warmth
Of frozen moments
Become a sudden comfort
So swiftly passing by.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
On a day as good as this
I should be roaming wild and free
instead of on this path of lonely
for all eternity
On a day as good as this
I should be hanging with the trees
In my arms you should be wrapped tightly
foreboding ancient memories
Can you smell the spirits in the air?
Can you smell the spirits in the air?
Can you smell the spirits in the air?
And before you realize it'll be another day gone
with no hands of time to hold onto
I'm a chooser not a beggar
On a day as good as this.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 9:05 PM UTC
Fiction informed my compassion
Superheroes and story tellers
Poets and other daydreamers
Were my fellow schemers
In restoring and or creating
A more humane society
The kind of reality
I could get in sync with
Instead of this current
Hateful, political, and religious
********
I wonder why her eyes
speaks of melancholia
while her work
speaks of wisdom
Beyond her age?
Perhaps, therein
lay my answer.
It’s unfair
that the night
gets to be there
with you
adoring your soul
with its silence
and beauty.
If the mirror reflected my truest nature
instead of this annoying shell
that everyone seems to think
is such an ugly thing,
I think I would smile more.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC