On a hot, lazy day

On a hot, lazy day

By jfarrell


The ant said to the bee

“Hey man, come check my weed”

But, up jumped the duck

“Honey bear, don’t touch that drug”

The duck and the bee, in love, hugged,

“Well, more for me” said the ant and shrugged.


Too hot to do anything…

Just lay there and sweat…

And watch the sweat…

Focussing in on individual beads…


The acorn said to the tree

“Mummy time to feed, feed me, feed”

“Now just hold on my Little Flower,

“We gotta wait for a rain shower.”

On queue, the rain poured down

Enough to feed, not to drown.


The sizzling summer heat makes me dopey,

Sleepy, just don’t wanna move…

Stay right here

And watch….


The boat, battered by the river, is hit by another wave,

All aboard pray “Please, let us all be safe.”

But, the clouds part and the sun shines through

Bringing hope to all of the crew

All aboard are in the navy, but… wait…

It’s just a bead of sweat disappearing into my naval.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a bit of fun

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Finding myself longing for the past,

That fleeting moment I was with you,

The scent of your cologne,

And your sheltered embrace.

Finding myself desiring contact,

To reach out and call you mine,

Not knowing what happened,

Finding myself far away.

The words you spoke,

The manner in which you made me feel,

I yearn for your presence,

Just once more.

Dreaming about us,

Never wishing to wake up,

It's the only place we can meet,

Anticipating our next encounter.

Discouraged is how I feel,

Upon waking up,

Finding I hadn't dreamt of you,

Taking a moment to remember our last.

Coping without you,

Something I didn't imagine I'd have to do,

Our meeting was brief,

But there's an imprint left from you.

Milking the past,

To nurture the present,

It's how I get by,

Without your essence.

Do Poets Dream In Verse?


Do we sleep in rhyme,

With words rehearsed?
In unconscious state,
Do poets dream, in verse?


Do we see the lines,
That always take form?
When we awake,
Are poems born?


Do we fear our nightmares?
Or are they only a guise?
For the stanzas we compose,
In our slumbering eyes?


Do we imagine scenes,
While lying prone in bed?
Ideas and stories,
That reside in our head?


Does ink flow through,
Our vessels like blood?
Do we write each day,
To contain the flood?


Do poets dream in verse?
Do our minds ever rest?
Or do we fear, that our thoughts
Will simply go, unexpressed?



It never ceases.

Always dreaming of something;

Thinking of someone.

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I Think You're All Nuts'

Just a thought!

I think you're all nuts, all stem from the same tree..

Take a look, they say "The acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."

You all just sit there everyday, dreaming someone wants you...

Waiting to be used, wanting to be picked by someone special,

Not caring who, as long as they can separate you from of your shell.

They'll take what they want, all that's good, then discard the rest.

I look down at you, picked over, crushed, used up...I see

Your shell... fractured, broken, empty... nothing left inside to grow.

I weigh my options and pass you by...    "I hear pecans are in!"

                                 Besides....."I think they're all just nuts!"

       by Barry Anderson


Author's Notes/Comments: 

"I Think You're All Nuts!"


Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

I a rise from dreams of the one i care 
The night of the first sleep 
I rest within the sheets bare 
A dream i must want to keep 
Stars burning their gases at night 
And the dream catchers are at my feet 
Soon will come morning light 
And every time i awake with a memory so sweet

So as i wake to greet the morning sun 
A new day is born 
For new dreams my way are to come 
For last nights dreams have been worn 
And may never in my dream world return

Anytime soon again i will be 
The prisoner of the dark silent stream 
And once again my dreams roam so free 
My thoughts will leave me to dream 
In store and ready for anything to see

Many directions the dream may go 
Where my dreams may take me i have no idea 
No one will really know 
Many dreams have no end 
Where others its not up to you where you they send 
To many people some seem so real not pretend

When i wake up to see what i wrote 
You to yourself have nothing to show 
Not even a short little note 
So every night you decide to just go with the dreams flow


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Whispers in the Wind

Just a thought!
For days we sit dormant, little comfort beside us
Trussed up in our world of woe and despair
We listen to voices invading our head
Pondering choices, we lay silent.

Dreaming and drowning through endless seclusion
Repetitive thought sustains our hopes
Wanting only to share intimate bonds with another
We wait, hoping to catch a dream.

Time passes, dreams fading, the heart still yearns
Our soul remains restless, loneliness runs deep
Patiently we wait, perched by the window
Chanting little "Whispers in the wind".                  
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Probably reading too many tales of loneliness and lost love'

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The Broken Bridge

Waking up in lonely years,

I'm plunged into a lifetime of judgement,

I waste days walking through mazes built for the masses,

I find solace in my night's sleep,

A particular night I have a beautiful dream,

Given the tools of a peasant I'm told to build a bridge,

Tired of venting, or complaining, I begin to work,

I realize, a bridge cannot support others, if it can't support itself,

This bridge I have built can never handle the stresses of such things,

I look at my smallish figure,

I feel the insecurities in my soul,

I realize that I am just a broken bridge, there are no discrepancies

I disapear into the bridge,

I realize your words are just a broken record,

Irrelevent to me as time is to the sun,

Most avoid my crippled structure,

Some try to walk across,

They're interested in my enigmatic manifestation,

They carve their names into me,

contain them with a heart,

leaving me with physical grafitti,

A group comes to see me everyday,

they talk to eachother about their lives,

they say their dreams,

confess their secrets,

I watch them grow,

I watch them laugh, I see them cry,


Just as quickly as they came,

They leave me,

Their names still in my skin,

My rusted bones still bearing the lives,

I miss their feet scuffling up and down my defunct layouts,

The echo of rocks skipping along the river that runs under me,

Although I am impassable and solitary,

I was once a home,

I once felt a warmth,

I once knew love,

I was once more than just a broken bridge,

More than just waiting scrap metal,

I awake to the sound of my alarm,

It's digital, mechanical beep, alerts me of what's to come,

I pass through grey halls and see lifeless lawns,

I think when I was more than just a face in the crowd,

When hope seemed to penetrate my bleek existence,

A sense of new beginnings permeated my soul,

Suddenly, my shoes feel far too big for what I've become.


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In Dreams

I can't sleep

while I'm dreaming,

Tossing and turning

through all the trees burning

running my hands through motor oil

to aluminum foil for some

alchemaic formula for courage,


Short skips in wild flowers

become thunderous jumps at all hours

While I'm flying through nimble clouds

with numbed out faces

passing judgement

at the springing passerbys,


Short crys and long exhales

sitting next to the rabbits singing

Where will they go when

all the luck has ran out

and the feet have been severed

to stick in those quarter machines

that you begged mom for after an

afternoon out of buying groceries

begging to her legs tethered,


Sick of sailing through the sky

with a vessal of dried blood

taken from the fortune teller's eyes

hovering over roof tops of candy shops

shouting,"There's room for you and I!",


I moved on to digging through

the core of the crust

the meat of the mantle

till soon the earth's blood

begins cinging my fingers

then turning my skin

to something sinister,


Where are we in these dreams?

Where are we in these dreams?

is this the natural state of things?

or I am still dreaming?

What's real and what's reality?


Sitting in a pool of paint thinner

questioning my spirtuality

I've lost my inner peace

running through streets

pleading the dream is never ending

even if my heart ceases to beat

and the brain decides to stop thinking

We will forever be in dreams I believe

Me, you, and everyone we meet


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