Treasure Island

Nick Kasparie

(3-30-94 / Quincy, IL.)

Dreams


What thought, belief, of what I’ve dreamed is naught
It’s naught but that which I have dreamed before
Though months have passed since last I ever thought
I would go back, back by the tidal bore

E’en yet I still arise from troubled dreams
The morning light cannot be ever more
No never more than feeble, sickly beams
No help to me as I’m swept to your shore

And through the day my weak attempts all fail
To think of aught but what I’ve seen in bed
The whisper of your voice is now a gale
It sings your name around my naked head

I truly am a battered man at best
Until you’re mine, I know I shall not rest

Submitted: Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Dreams by Nick Kasparie )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. As She Wrought, Darlene Walsh
  2. When A Man Offers His Heart, Lora Colon
  3. What love is, gajanan mishra
  4. ALL YOUR HEART 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
  5. The echo you held as your own, Mark Heathcote
  6. Child eater, Nassy Fesharaki
  7. Small but, gajanan mishra
  8. Express shame, hasmukh amathalal
  9. JOEL OSTEEN MAILMAN FOR THE LORD!, Tom Zart
  10. Quotation #2, saint cynosure ( Ken Bennigh ..

Poem of the Day

poet Robert Burns

When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r;
When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r,
Far south the lift,
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Jessie Pope

 
[Hata Bildir]