My heart gently weeps

you always leave me softly

One last slow dance in
loves embrace

One kiss before you go
to lips that want you so
to stay but watch you
walk into
the mist of time

from that moment on
….no longer mine.

One final softly whispered sigh
One tear which trickles from
desparing eyes.

Only the moon can hear my
anxious breathing now
her beams and cloak of
diamond stars
my hope
my light
Soft glow guardians of
a lonesome night.

One tortured soul you’ve
left behind.
One restless mind
One love to keep and hold
so dear

And so you sleep….

my heart gently weeps.


©Daydreamer *All rights reserved

Because love… if it’s real…never dies.

Moody Words

white-pillar-candles-4x4-unscented-cotton-wicks-3_260If I gaze upon the flame
will it’s light grow dim
or, my own from neglecting
of its passion.

I toss all cares
into the wind
watch them curl
unfurl again
rise up once more
to soar.

never grow old
and die
only blood ends its line
in not so sterile rooms
and on not so sterile beds

and, this is but one mood
through a day that is just
the same as many
not the same
as any.


©Daydreamer *All rights reserved

Just some words which wanted to be written. Moods.


heart_on_fire_wallpaper__yvt2O heart
where is that
fearless streak
which saw you tremble
yet still
stand your ground

With the last breath
you vowed
‘no surrender’
to faint lines
or lies.

Life hangs in
precarious balance of
here or there
of which, I am

Words seek play
across the page and
I yield their caress
to the dance, aware
that I may never speak
yet, feel so deep.

O heart
you are always so true
to your loves.


©Daydreamer *All rights reserved

Water Music


Soft playing notes lapping
at the shores of my

A lone seagull flies high above
as white and as soothing
to see its freedom of
flight as the soft foam which
falls in sweet, sweet
melodies onto ripples in
the sand that also
(like the beaches in my heart)
is home to my love.

Heavens music could be no
more than this


As those living…
giving, waves tease my
heightened senses.


then, kiss the shore sensually
with long lingering notes of
quiet musical passion.
Each graceful swish a
kiss of excellence to a
lovers eager


Let the music play and I
will love you eternally.

Such sweet music to my ears.

‘Oh…how I love you, sea.’
Said the Earth.

And then, she smiled.


                    ©Daydreamer     *All Rights reserved



People pass
enjoy blue sky

soft, sensual

my soul still weeps
for you, for me
for history


Time can’t erase
the promise of

Birds take to flight


like my hands upon your skin
set yours to shivering.

The veil into beyond


allows light to seep within
seeking the darkest corners
where you hid
among my suffering


You gave such gifts
and never truly knew
grief too, is one


Without the dark
we’d have no need of light


       © Daydreamer         *All rights reserved

A Painful Bliss

writing2The page was blank
but, it began with words
a song, a smile
music, laughter shared.

A glance, a dance
two hearts afraid
take another

Life had bought us
to our knees where
we prayed
You, in your way
me, in mine.

Battles fought, lost and won

A touch, a kiss,
hurts undone.

Path then taken
to the greatest love
twin souls caressed
each others tears
and all of fear
soon fled.

A beginning
a middle
right through to the end.

Such painful bliss.

© Daydreamer                         *All rights reerved

Writing in the Margins

world jumble words[8]Words take shape
in the margins of my mind

in its labyrinths and dusty corners
lurking there behind shadows waiting
to become what they are meant to be

Sometimes wings
which lift, sift, flutter, fly

Sometimes waves which rise up
rage, ripple, roll.

My words sometimes dance
close, rhythmic, heated and sensual
across a waiting page.

Taking shape and form
as soon as they are born

petals in the sun
or, under snow
tremble at the touch
so do my words reflect their joy
when I think of home
knowing there is love.


© Daydreamertoo           *All rights reserved

*This came about because I saw a question asking people to write where their words for their poetry come from

Shared with dVerse Poets OpenLinkNight #74
Carry on Tuesday #183 When I think of home

The Poetical Lady

Girl Reading © Charles E. Perugini

At last in late sun and moonlights early glow
she settles in peaceful repose
allowing her mind
to wander.

Her eyes see the pages but
thoughts take her on long
forgotten paths that no-one
knows are there except she
herself and, those aches she
hides so well

Her heart knows the pain
that she carries even though
mist’s of time have
somewhat obscured the

Leaves about her flutter
… she softly sighs.

She reads.
Occasionally writes.
Thinking in ways which only
romantics can
Of lost loves and passion’s
feelings that fire her
soul to paint portraits which
inspire other’s eyes
to shine.

She is a poetical lady
and it’s words that steal her
heart away as they too
in turn
steal mine.


© Daydreamertoo      *All rights Reserved

Always loved that painting. It speaks to me in so many ways about so many things.

Shared with dVerse Poets Meeting the Bar: Writing Characters.


(to me)

is the unmistakable look of love
sparkling in another’s eyes
Tender interaction between mother and child
no matter what species
this love needs no words.

Poetry is
music of the wind as it plays
for leaves and grass to dance
lifts waves to rise up, crest
wanting to be seen.

Poetry is
in the man or woman, alone
wandering with shopping cart
transporting their home
from one street to another
to begin again, anew.

It’s in the rain which plays
its own symphony of words
a slow, slow, tickled trickle on skin
or, the mighty roar of gigantic waterfalls.

Poetry is life in perpetual motion

This moment now
each new thought given as a kiss
to lips which open with the
eagerness of petals waiting new days
touch of morning dew.


Love is poetry
Romantics are addicted
Poets are its slave.


© Daydreamertoo    *All right reserved


Shared with dVerse Poets   FormForAll: Poems about Poetry

Perfect Moment

Words slip through my fingers
like sands of time
with nothing to hamper their
Should I mourn their loss
once I’ve held the universe
if just one grain was mine.

Emotional pain hurts
can sometimes pulverize us
to curl into a ball
but, it also teaches
if true perception is gleamed
once we recognise its cause
as the harshest of
all teachers.

Touch me
don’t taunt

the earth has music for

those who listen 

I thrill at droplets on skin
Wash me clean of doubt
and all synthetic care.

With crisp and clear notes
sing loves music as
whispers to my waiting soul
and blow sweet, sweet kisses
which move with sensual play
in wind slow dancing over
lips come seeking the highs
of moonlight’s shimmering

Hold still the quiet yearning
and thunder in my heart
as she finally surrenders
her milk en glow
with all God’s given grace
to the sparkles of gold in each
fresh morning sun which
trickles its simmering heat
over this desire.

Your secrets are safe with me
as I yield to music of the
cosmic vibration

and freeze myself into one
perfect moment of time.


© Daydreamertoo          *All rights reserved

Shared with Three Word Wednesday CCLXXV111 Hamper, Pulverize, Taunt
Poetry Jam Mood Swings
With Real Toads Kerry’s Wednesday Challenge: Shakespeare Quotes

It’s Only Words

Sometimes we wonder
is there anybody there
but, sometimes it doesn’t truly matter
because words fly across a
vaccant page
hop, skip, dance or run
as fluidic as a river flows
in one shape or another
from a mind filled
with a single subject which
covers them all


…of LOVE

I write

Of heart’s that ache
and wounds which take
forever to heal in love’s own
mortal version of eternity

Of agonies and agonising

how a heart can break

Yet how it can also make such
sweet, sweet music as it beats
like a drum to the heady, steady
rhythm within loves

A voice


Moving me to smile
as I hear a tenderness
that falls into the
soft place of my heart
like the petals of a rose
caress a lovers cheek
from first pale
to blushing

I too bloom
in a swirl of
loving words which fly

Caught on the fragrance of
blossoms still out there

I thank God
for the gifts He freely gave

for I know souls which
live their love


and that is where our words
and our truest beauty


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with Carry on Tuesday #160 Is there anybody there
dVersepoets OpenLinkNight #49


There is a façade
the public face you see
but what goes on behind the scene
some could even call it

Just the right blend
is all it needs.
A little mix here
little mixing there
a little mischief making
spins into the air.

Some choose to rise above
lend a hand to distant

Feather-light thoughts
skim o’er naked trees
flesh so vulnerable
as razor-sharp words
cut, then leave their prey
bleeding out from
open wounds.

Above mountains in the way
it never matters
who said or who did what
to whom and,
we don’t need to always
be in control
to be in control.

You see
there is a vast difference
between you and me.

This is the life I wanted
I could never see how anyone
can live their lives in all
those secret spaces.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

The pic I found seems to describe my thoughts in some way. Out of focus.
Some thoughts on how many people lead double lives. How different some are behind closed doors.
How a teen loves to be in the middle of her friends falling out so she can do ‘the mix’ between it all then, sit back and watch it all play out and, how I’ve tried to teach her that sooner or later it will all back-fire on her if she doesn’t stop it….but.. do kids listen.. hmm.. I think I have a better chance of talking to the wall….haha.. she’ll learn, probably the hard way, as do we all.

Shared with Carry on Tuesday #143 This is the life I wanted and I could never see, etc
Three Word wednesday CCLV111



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

Two For One

این نیز بگذرد

‘This Too Shall Pass’

The fabled Persian King paced and paced then, councelled his wise men to write him something that would always be in view. Something which should be true and appropriate in all times, in all given situations and would show that material conditions, positive or negative, are purely temporary. They gave him a ring so inscribed and built an arch in his perfumed garden, aware that each time he passed beneath it on his daily exercise in either direction he would see their wise inscription thus, leaving him always hopeful. And the sign read above his head: “This, too, shall pass away.”

©Daydreamer Too   *All rights reserved


According to the legend, the wise men the Persian king commanded made him a ring enscribed with this quote. I took a liberty with the fable and added an archway he could walk beneath and read it from both sides, too.

Shared with Jenny Matlock Saturday Centus (100 words + ‘and the sign read’)



The world can wait because I can’t resist
the thought of words that speak
in rhyme.
A poem that flows through a river
of thought, of natural twisted instinct
from a busy heated mind a buzz with noise
and oft times galloping logic
that fluttered in on a wordle whim.


© Daydreamer Too          *All rights reserved

Shared at The Sunday Whirl Wordle #12

Frozen in Stone


Harpist’s glide their fingertips
light, across the strings
touch a thousand cords
and touch but one, in me.
The purest sound of
Heaven’s tender sighs
I listen, mesmerised.

Even now,

I weep for you
for me,
in trickles that fall
from those pools in my eyes.


the sad moments
the best moments
those perfect moments


If forever was frozen in stone
love could still leave a stain
that history would never
wash away.


© Daydreamer Too *All rights reserved

Shared with Poets United Thursday Think Tank #56 (Promt, Reading)
And Thursday Poets Rally week #48 (When it opens)

The pic is of something that’s always intrigued me. The Rosetta Stone.
Three ancient languages all on that one tablet. Amazing!
The top section contains ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, the middle portion, Demotic
(a lower class, everyday Egyptian script) and the lowest portion is Ancient Greek.
Because it presents essentially the same text in all three scripts
(with some differences between them), it provided the key to the modern understanding of Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Always loved his(her)story

The prose is a mix of thoughts of how stone contains a ‘history’ all of its own, with or without writing on it and, what stories it could tell if it could speak but also, that (Unlike paperback books) something written in stone is very hard to erase even through millennia.

*Still working my way around this new settings. It seems to free spam checker was telling people that a one word comment wasn’t long enough *Rolls eyes* So, I got rid of it and went over to akismet to check for spam again. Hope it didn’t put anyone off from leaving any comments.