A little bit of soap
creating magic.

You can reach out to
but never capture

hold it in the palm
of your hand


watch it floating
in the air
(a bit like chasing rainbows)
it’s prismatic illusion
there one minute, gone the next
when someone bursts your bubbles.


© Daydreamertoo         *All rights reserved

Shared with Theme Thursday #Bubbles
Poets United Pantry #87

The Tears We cry

Destiny’s wheel spins
we all fit in there to eventually erode
at our given place in time.

Often we hear a calling
then yearn in heart or mind to follow
…the elusive.

To seek comfort in truth
of touching beauty
Know the bliss of a
kissing rain which falls
soft upon each petal of pain
and, for one sweet moment
soothes as a caress of silk
to waiting skin.

So caught up in lifes rush
there’s no time to observe as we each
try to bend the world to our will

To shape it in this land of illusion.
And, no-one sees the
tears we cry



© Daydreamertoo *All rights Reserved

This is not how I feel. These are just some thoughts that wanted to have their say.

Shared with Three Word Wednesday CCLV11
The Poetry Palace Rally #51



From a celestial balcony
they observe
Serene, in their divine.

They watch as we would watch
insects scurry and
jostle for a place
amidst the bones of those
who’ve gone before.

Tides rise and fall
fill the void, within.

I dream of emerald wings
which rise slowly
lift, then flap their blessed freedoms
to a willing wind.

Oft times life hands us
ominous vibrations
but the rhythm matches
our own
and we make our choice
to either sink or, swim.

(I wonder)

Do the Angels ever partake
in this world’s created illusion
and theatrical pantomime.


© Daydreamer Too      *All rights reserved

I’m not quite sure what I was trying to say in this, I think (bearing in mind the 13 Sunday whirl words that had to be used) it’s that a lot of people seem to live in an unreal world these days. They want brilliant white teeth, no wrinkles, plastic faces to take away all signs of ageing, no grey hair, no fat. They dress their 5 and 6 year olds up in adult make-up and parade them in these beauty pagents and then wonder why they grow up screwed up as they become true adults.

 It’s all a created world of perfection, and illusion bought and paid for with money. It’s a crazy world we live in when we are not content to wear the lines on our faces with pride. I tell my teen, each line on my face was earned the hard way through winning lifes oft times hard battles and, I wear mine, with pride.

Reality is wrinkles and growing old, but with it comes the grace and the joy of learning and wisdom to know that you have made most of the big mistakes you’re likely to ever make and to relish in the fact of your inner growth.

Although I allow my thoughts to wander in their meditative daydreams, I do live in the real world. Where people still have yellowed teeth and fillings, wrinkles and grey hair, and… they are (mostly) all still, real.

Shared at: The Sunday Whirl #13 (I found this weeks words very challenging)
Poetry Pantry #58
Poetry Pot Luck #44