Welcome April! A poet’s favorite month! 🙂

DAY 15 prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of Poetic Asides:  Write a dream poem.  
Link to Poetic Asides PAD Challenge Day 15

Want to use a form, and need help choosing one? Here’s our Bloomin’ list ( 😉 ): Inform Poets .

Welcome to April, Bloomers! We’re glad you are here! We will provide Robert’s 2020 April Poem-a-Day Challenge prompts right here at Poetic Bloomings each day.  We will suspend our own Sunday prompts during April, in favor of simply poeming alongside the WD Poetic Asides group.

If you share your poems here (and we hope you will!), we also want to urge you to post at PA, as well.  The idea is not to take away from Robert’s site, but to have a place where our Bloomers can easily share our poems daily, and interact and encourage one another throughout the month.  No need to wait for moderation, here.  We are a small and intimate group. We know you!  And we are better for it!

Connect, keep healthy, and poem on!

42 thoughts on “2020 APRIL POEM-A-DAY, PROMPT #15

    by Paula Riggs

    Random thoughts,
    unsolved challenges ~
    all melding
    into mad
    -ness of midnight cinema ~
    a double feature!


    Wake up beautiful
    Cute high heels, good for my feet
    Feel pretty daily

    No-pain fun workouts
    Tasty food without weight gain
    Flattering clothes, all

    Snow with no slipping
    Nightly beach stroll with no bugs
    Flowers with no weeds

    Warmth with no sweating
    Nice chill with no shivering
    Charcoal clouds with sun

    Endless connections
    Continuous potential
    World with no borders

    Love without judgement
    Hard truths spread with soft edges
    Loved. No exceptions.

    © Marie Elena Good, 2020

  3. WITH A START (shadorma)

    Sometimes dreams
    come with loosened seams,
    and that’s when,
    once again,
    I awaken to the scare
    of a tight nightmare.

  4. D


    As imperfect as I am,
    what right to instruct another,
    like anyone who reads my thoughts,
    be it a friend, sister, brother.
    I try to inspire faith, spread hope,
    promote kindness, go for broke
    on what matters most to Spirit,
    how life improves as you near it.
    I’ve born sadness, guilt and shame
    of course, but not of late,
    now dispensing with that pain,
    I have no room for hate.
    There’s more to come, to learn,
    lessons to put to rhyme,
    so much more to contribute.
    This might take some time.
    As imperfect as I am,
    as frail as I seem,
    one truth remains above all others,
    I am not too old to dream.

  5. Is it a dream? Isn’t it a dream? ☺️

    This Gold Ring Is Proof

    — with this ring

    and then I remember weightlessness,
    the way a hot breeze blowing through
    eucalyptus trees in Marin County
    makes you feel, slightly drunk.

    and there was an emerald shine
    through a stained glass rose window,
    and just as my attention returned
    to the here and now, I heard

    — and you may now kiss the bride.

  6. Red Geraniums

    I dreamed about Grandma last night.
    She was on the porch watering geraniums,
    intense red magnificent on grey concrete,
    plucking dead leaves and spent blooms.
    The herby scent drifted to me.

    So familiar… and yet, she was an enigma to me.
    Did she have dreams? She never revealed
    her feelings. Her inner self she kept to herself.
    I was too young, too self-absorbed to think
    of her as a woman and not just Grandma.

    Every night I’d like to step into a dream,
    relive those moments of time and have
    the presence of mind to ask a million questions.
    But I’ll settle for kismet dreams of red geraniums
    and herbal scents drifting through my mind.

  7. Dream

    When I was just a little girl
    I dreamed of wealth of gold
    but then I found a wealth of love
    before I grew too old.

    I dreamed of when I’d fly away
    to see the world afar,
    but then I grew and found a world
    in a flying star.

    I dreamed of when I would be great
    and have enormous fame,
    but then I found a joy unknown
    when a child called my name.

    Now as I look about and see the world
    with it’s wild and maddening pace,
    I find that love, hope and friends
    provide the better place.

  8. In My Dream


    To my delight, you were alive again.
    I sat on your lap to give you a kiss.
    You pushed me away and said,
    “Don’t! The children will see.”

  9. .
    Don’t Wake Me Up

    Some say life is a dream
    For others it’s a nightmare
    For me…. well
    Don’t wake me up

    My blessings abound
    So many undeserved
    Thanks be to God for
    Every single one

    But if it’s that great here
    I can’t even imagine
    What it will be like
    In the Great Beyond

    And if this is a dream
    Just let me dream on
    That smile on my face says
    Don’t wake me up

  10. The Return of Childhood Dreams

    When I was little
    I dreamed of singing
    for large crowds,
    writing books everyone loved
    and painting beautiful pictures.

    But for various reasons:
    shyness, depression,
    lack of opportunity,
    and encouragement,
    my dreams died.

    Slowly, those dreams returned.
    They may never blossom
    like I dreamed of as a child,
    but I will enjoy each song sung,
    story written and picture painted.

  11. Meanwhile ……

    As I sat day dreaming,
    composing word pictures
    in my mind that may or
    may not become poems,
    the dust bunnies joined forces
    with the shed cat fur to
    build a nearly impenetrable
    fortress under the bed,
    the cheeses and fruit in the fridge
    collaborated on vital medical
    experiments, and the laundry
    mountain exploded in an avalanche
    of socks and pajamas and unmentionables.

  12. Missing Out

    When I was a senior in high school,
    they added on an extension
    to the building. My class had to put up
    with the noise and dust of construction
    but didn’t get to enjoy the addition.

    That must have bugged me
    on a subconscious level,
    because I have recurring dreams
    of going back to school
    to see the new extension.

    In my dreams, it is extravagant.
    Besides professional labs
    there’s a bowling alley and restaurant.
    I wander around gawking
    at the wonders and get lost.

    Now, forty years later, the school,
    including the modest add on,
    has been condemned, and they bus
    the students fourteen miles
    down the road to the next town.

    But I still have the dreams.

  13. Wonder Woman

    Over the years, I have had nightmares
    of being in high places.
    I’d try to jump but end up falling.
    It would terrify me, and with
    pounding heart, I’d wake up.

    But I must have dreamed it enough
    that my subconscious has gotten smarter
    and now I can usually get down
    by taking long leaps from rock to rock,
    scaling walls, floating or flying.

    It would be nice if overcoming fear
    would be that easy in real life.

  14. WISHES, DREAMS AND SCHEMES, by Walter J Wojtanik

    He saw the error of his ways, a colossal
    faux pas that left him broke and flat,
    (but hardly fat) just a rather husky
    guy with an eye for words, his absurd muse
    would dream of any half-hatched scheme
    to fill his verse, and desire to transfer

    each expanded volume to shelf; to transfer
    all bound tomes to a home of colossal
    proportions. His thoughts held a static schem-
    atic of his longings – his belongings, and fat-
    tened coffers would always offer to amuse
    long after they had turned rancid and musky.

    Age had turned his eyes half blind and dusky,
    riddled his rattled bones like a cancer,
    the answer to which he could not choose.
    Yet he stood straddling life and death, a Colossus
    who could level Rhodes and the world flat
    (if that was his verdant scheme.)

    But he would lie awake and dream
    in visions languid and lusty,
    and heap faint flattery
    in a rather obvious and obnoxious transfer
    of sarcastic barbs. A slight of colossal
    malfeasance, a pointed muse.

    This was the route which he’d choose to amuse
    himself. He couldn’t help but scheme
    of new ways of throwing his poetic weight, his colossal
    posterior, his inferior brand which was no longer trusted,
    a man so disgusted of words and would transfer
    all his angst against all odds to fall flat

    and to find unrest on his laurels. So that was that.
    He had made many mistakes, laced with verbal abuse
    and chose to trade tirades, a torrid transfer
    of distortions and schemes,
    dreams of a self-effacing vision of one less husky
    and dialed way back from colossal.

    Yet his rented flat was colossal
    and his muscled muse came across as husky.
    He only wished he could transfer wishes and schemes for dreams

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