Dream state

Dreams. Boy, they’re trouble we can do without:
They shake our certainties, disturb the day
And introduce an element of doubt
That makes us wonder where we lost our way.
And so we tell ourselves we must get real –
Abandon thoughts of living lives unknown
But somehow stirring us inside – and feel
We’ve saved ourselves from things best left alone.
But there are people in this world whose dreams
Refuse to do the decent thing and die.
They are called Men. I’m one of them, it seems:
I cannot let mine go; Lord knows I try.
This vision has sustained me through long years.
It comes and goes. But never disappears.

 

This sonnet was inspired by (and incorporates much of) a very uplifting comment I received on my previous post from David. Thank you, my friend, as always.

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14 thoughts on “Dream state

  1. And may your dreams spin into a future filled with a glory as beautiful as the uplifting of your meter and rhyme, Nick. May they sail like a galleon in the depth of a moonless night lit only by the firefly flicker of stars flickering in the sudden absence of thunderous clouds moving like the waters of the ocean. May you continue to write poetry until you are so old that your hair is white and your mind is wise and the world seems so precious and beautiful that you never want it to end.
    But there are people in this world whose dreams
    Refuse to do the decent thing and die.
    Thank God!

    • Amen to that, Tom, and thank you for giving me a poem in return: your comments are so thoughtful and lyrical, they’re pieces of art in themselves.

      And I shall keep writing, never fear. Although I wish I had enough hair left for it to turn white…

      N.

  2. Hi Nick,

    David has a way of inspiring others 🙂
    This is beautifully written, you have a great way of expressing yourself in these iambic petameters 🙂

    About the subject; I believe in finding a compromise, so you can have the dreams, live them, and still do the decent thing. 🙂
    Good luck! xx

  3. Another amazing sonnet Nick, and conjured so quickly too – there’s that amazing book worthy talent shining through once again!! 🙂

    I used to be such a dreamer! Mainly conjured up dreams during the day while conscious; that was okay, I had control over those. It’s the beggars that come in the night that bother me, the ones that leave me screaming “No! This is the wrong script!!!” :):)

    Christine xx

    • Ah yes, that sounds very familiar…I just wish my dreams were less – well, extreme, I suppose. Why can’t I be like normal blokes and dream of some simple, ridiculous trophy object: a Porsche or a yacht or a 20-year-old pneumatic blonde, something like that? Why must I yearn for a whole different LIFE – and one halfway across the world from here, to boot?! It’s that darned artistic temperament again…never a dull moment, eh? N.xx

  4. I shall let you know Nick when the Northern Ireland football selectors finally see sense and pick me.
    And when I have that cottage which overlooks the harbour at Whitby
    And when…………………..

    I am smiling broadly after reading your poem

    David

    • That’s lovely to hear, David – after all, it wouldn’t have happened at all without you!

      And I don’t think anything could give me greater pleasure than to be sitting on the front porch of my ranch-house in the Rockies, reading a newspaper report of Agnew’s stunning 40-yard winner in the dying seconds of the World Cup final between Northern Ireland and Brazil. Never say never. N.

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