To sit and dream is my pastime.
None for me is a waste of time.
These dreams, like fire, bring momentum.
My heart then warmed, when in autumn.
Phantom thoughts float -
Memory’s ghost -
On winds that seed.
I cherish thought,
When I’m in wrought.
My pastime’s need!
Thus, there’s times that fleetingly speed,
Carrying over meadows, seed.
Dropping thoughts that grow - tiny dreams.
Swift pleasures sped to edge of streams,
Where thoughts grow strong,
Away from wrong.
They reach up high,
All small sped thoughts -
Dreamt winds of sorts-
To bring forth sigh!
In a list
A contest entry
- #128 Winklings but open to all at Allpoetry! Yes, you!!! by Lyndon.
6030 points, ended October 22, 2008, 6 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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'soughts' - ought be 'sorts'. English is an awful language for even us, poet! Yet Henry showed it was superb, none the less.
Metaphor of the seed is well developed. Of course, it is sourced to Biblical stories. Yes, I think Henry would have understood your poem. After all, he wrote poems in French and in Latin.
You are technically correct with a bit of a struggle here and there to get a flow of unconscious rhyme, as it were. Thank you for the spirit of this poem.
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Thanks Ron
I had a good struggle with this one, but I enjoyed it. Damn the spelling error - never saw it - thanks for pointing it out. Also thank you for your time and energy, and by no doubt, points too! Frans
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Seeds burst forth in Spring and are nurtured underneath sun and summer rain, the growth is in the soil or our own hands and how softly we tread. Beautiful thoughts.
C
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This is an interesting thought...
I am truly inspired by your poetic creation of the seedlings of your thoughts - your dream seeds... I will try a dream tonight, and see where it leads me... Thank you for sharing your gifted inner vision with us, and take care. Peace Always, Cyn
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Beautiful Words
Good Morning, Well my friend, your rhyme was lovely. Your imagery takes the reader to their own comforting pastime. Dreaming is always a nice way to idle away the time as we relax. This was a delight to read. You take care.
Peace and Grace,
Sandy
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Woven into beautiful seededness ...
the poetry of fruitful pastimes are sown ... And it reaps itself in seasonal splendour.
I loved the wonderment of tiny thoughts, growing into that sentiments which nourish, sustain and become the fruit of Life ...
Loved this, Poet.
Myra
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Delightful and the best pastime of all
You say you find rhyme hard, that is hard to believe reading this
Great stuff
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