Category Archives: The Mag

Reading Me…

a unknown_source_

“Shh…”
Sober command to a shattered heart.
I am trying to read.
Pensive gaze transfixed,
content with chocolate in hand,
staring into the looking-glass of my own words…
“Shh…”
I am trying to read.
“Evolve, Dear Heart,
Stay your course.
Steer your soul toward solitude.
The coming world is a lonely place for the chaotic.”
“Shh…”
“Breathe, eat your reesecup and live vividly,
as if your dreams had come alive,
because they will.
His loving proposal will come in 2018.
Avoid the convention to choose differently than I did.”
“Shh…”
“Listen to your inner voice and meditate.
It will help to prepare for losing our job in 2022,
but the transition to editor will be smoother.
P.S. the weight gain wasn’t caused by the chocolate!
It was stress, so be mindful of that too!
“Shh…”
Sober command to a fragmented mind…
I am trying to comprehend.
Would I listen and prepare?
In that moment, if known in advance…
looking into my destiny,
mirrored by my own words…
“Shh…”
Last bit of reesecup… song coming to an end…
All thoughts finally silent…
“Shh…”
Time for sleep
and silently tossed the letter aside.

©Daydreamer

This poem posted for Loneliness / Solitude3WW Week No. 415Theme Thursday for February 12, 2015 – SWEETSPoets United Midweek Motif ~ Glass(es)The Tuesday PlatformMag 258, and Poetics: A poem from the future.

Please stop by to read other poems by some great poets!

Life Swim

Photo by Elena Kalis
Photo by Elena Kalis

 

 

distant
sullen
brooding
adjectives used to describe a life
“I’m going swimming”
an irrational, yet distinct cry
for help
rest
peace
she thought it was all she’d need
but they gave no heed
floating
they thought she just needed to find herself
misconception
misdirection
blurred perception
if corrected, could have saved a life
floating by

©Daydreamer

 

Posted for Poetic Visions3WW CCCXLIII, Peace, Mag 182, and Meeting the Bar: Getting Tight (in here).  Please join in the fun and comment after linking!

 

 

I Remember…

Artwork by Joseph Lorusso
Artwork by Joseph Lorusso

I remember your cologne and the way it made me feel.

I remember how the scent lingered for hours,

reminding me that I was yours;

that I had experienced some semblance of passion!

Fahrenheit…

as in one hundred degrees and rising!

I remember…

 

I remember sneaking home all those nights.

I remember the rampage dad went on when caught;

reminding me how cumbersome it was to have parents.

Too many years before adulthood and freedom.

Independence…

Three years and counting!

I remember…

 

I remember the first ring you gave me.

I remember how committed we were,

reminding me of all the years I spent chasing;

good fun-loving years, yearning…

love…

It’s all I really wanted.

I remember…

 

I remember the years of broken promises.

I remember the wasted youth,

reminding me how many nights were spend grounded;

just for a few extra moments with you.

Sacrifice…

morbid,I know,

but I remember…

 

©Daydreamer

 

Posted for Sacrifices3WW CCCXVI, Scents, Committed, Mag 155, The Poet’s Toolbox. Come and enjoy other great poets!

 

 

Good Old Chair

Red Chair

I held your weight when you came home at night,

cushioning your aches in my velvet heat.

I bore the weight of your stolen dreams

while you laid your shoes at my feet.

I held all spilled tears of sorrow,

squeaked joy at each happiness,

endured every slice of ridicule,

in all weather, I withstood the test.

But I prepared for the inevitable,

though worn with age and time.

Built sturdy to last lifetimes,

I knew you’d leave me behind.

I prepared for this moment

with each move and rearrangement.

Your longer hours at work

mostly helped the estrangement.

I thought I worth was a little more,

not considered old, but antique.

Never believed some paper doll

meant more to you than me.

I believed for just a moment

that you would even dare,

to weigh the quiet moments.

Think me more than a chair.

You proved me wrong on moving day,

when baby girl stood crying at the door.

Everything packed, but you came back

to pick her paper dolly off the floor.

Doll By Bailey Powell

 

© Daydreamer

 

Submitted for dVerse Poets Pub, With Real Toads, The Mag, and Poets United.  Glad to know these great poets! Come see!

 

Incurable

Sick Woman, 1665, by Jan Steen

Friends and loved ones from miles around

sent healers and priests both insane and sound

to heal my ailment and bid death depart

but sadly, there is no cure for a broken heart.

© Day Dreamer

My post for Mag 138 and Poetry Pantry – #118.  Come link up with us! Hope to see you there!

With Sargent and Wine

Sargent, John Singer, A Dinner Table at Night, 1884

He regaled me yet again!

Stories of his youth.

Fascinating roads

never traveled

but still…

I am weak of will!

Ambushed,

by that cad civility!

Proper etiquette for a woman

deems me only speak

when spoken to.

(sigh)

One day…

woman within bids

to say.

Aloud to his proud

face…

“Such a waste!”

Stuck reliving

failures of might!

I’d rather wallow in mud

than hear your plight.”

Until then…

polite smile,

demure grin.

He will continue his tales

whilst I hold my fantasies in…

© Day Dreamer

Posted for The Mag and Poets United.  Please stop by and link with us!

 

 

Yesterday’s Dreams

artwork by Jack Vettriano

I wish you were there…
car-lined street,
key in hand,
coming back to me;
to us and what we were…
yesterday.
Remember the cafe
on Via Roma street?
Where we’d meet
and the circumstance?
Laughing
that it couldn’t be happenstance
how we met.
“All roads lead to Rome.”
You were home
and home you are to me…
or…were.
Now to her.
Are you home, dear?
Safe in loving arms?
Arms that were once mine,
then no longer…
But I’m stronger 
now..I hope.
Brushing the cobwebs 
of old memories.
Rapt in Via Roma streets.
Staring through the window of my despair,
reliving yesterday’s dreams.
I wish you were there…

© Day Dreamer  

This is my submission for The Mag – Mag 126.  Please join us!  Don’t forget to leave a comment or two after linking!  See you there!

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