Poem 004

A dream untold, a hope so pure,

It lives within, it will endure.

Though life may turn a twisted way,

The dream will rise, it will not sway.


In every thought, in every glance,

It lingers like a fleeting chance.

The dream remains, though lost and cold,

A whispered wish, a story told.


The beauty of poetry lies in its ability to be open to multiple meanings. Keep your thoughts to yourself or share them here - I'd love to hear how this poem resonates with you.

Comments

Popular verses

Poem of the Day

Loading …

Want another?

Poem 030

Her fears arrived like wolves beyond the door,

And circled through her thoughts as once before,

She watched them howl beneath the silver moon,

Then chose her own direction, steady, soon.


No longer prey to every hungry cry,

She raised her gaze and met the midnight sky,

The wolves could follow footprints in the snow,

But she alone decided where to go.


The beauty of poetry lies in its ability to be open to multiple meanings. Keep your thoughts to yourself or share them here - I'd love to hear how this poem resonates with you.

Poem 025

A frozen window catches threads of white,

Drawn by an unseen hand throughout the night,

Each branch appears, then slowly disappears,

A fleeting kingdom made of frozen tears,

Too delicate to last for many years.


No seed was buried underneath the floor,

No careful gardener opened up a door,

Yet beauty found a place to take its form,

And held its ground against the winter storm,

As though the cold itself could keep it warm.


Perhaps the things we hide are made this way,

They need the quiet shelter of the gray,

They gather strength beyond the public eye,

And only bloom when noise has passed us by,

Then fade before the world can ask us why.


The beauty of poetry lies in its ability to be open to multiple meanings. Keep your thoughts to yourself or share them here - I'd love to hear how this poem resonates with you.

Poem 022

He carried a picture from years ago,

Of who he would be and the life he would know,

But time drew new lines on the face of his plan,

And turned the boy's vision to something more grand.


He kept not the picture, but kept its bright flame,

Though every small detail had shifted its frame,

And standing beneath all the dreams he had spun,

He smiled at the person he finally had become.


The beauty of poetry lies in its ability to be open to multiple meanings. Keep your thoughts to yourself or share them here - I'd love to hear how this poem resonates with you.