Dreaming - A Sonnet
This has a similar theme to my last poem, but is in the form of a sonnet.
If dreaming of you leads to naught but pain
At chance foregone and juncture yet unknown,
Still dream I shall, to be with you again,
For opened eyes might see that I’m alone.
A dream contains the essence of the real,
A mirror holds the scene intact, pristine,
And dreaming of you surely could reveal
Our love, which, waking, you so oft demean.
But dreams are like the surface of a lake,
A crystal pane, a hanging spider’s web,
And so, once touched, with shards and splinters break,
No more to glisten, only now to ebb.
And now I hope my dreams will clamber from my head,
If not, I fear, I’ll give up life instead.
- Oliver Schofield
Dreaming - A new poem
If dreaming’s just like waking,
The image in the lake,
Then may I choose which world I want
As real, and which as fake?
And when you say you love me,
Does Cupid clap with glee?
Or does he laugh and shake his head,
At foolish, dreaming, me.
If dreaming’s just like waking,
The mirror to our lives,
Then who am I to demonize
The fire in your eyes?
But when you glare with steel brow,
Then smile with golden lips,
My head knows what my heart does not,
The dream world slowly slips.
No, dreaming’s not like waking,
The pillow’s not the muse,
The eyes betray, the lips belie,
The air that I abuse.
But real life’s without you,
Not hair nor hide nor heart,
And in my dreams, that sacred world,
We’ll never be apart.
- Oliver Schofield
