The Day the Dream Dies

The Day the Dream Dies

A Poem by Eddie Phillips

The purity of rain will have no meaning.
No one will give regard your tears of pain.  
Our world will be lost in the meaningless void.
There will be no advocates to act in love's name.  

Sculptures chisels will stop falling on stone.
Universal artists will lose their muse.
The world will know real a spiritual loss.
There will be no form to give our hope any clues.

It will be a time of loss and profound anger.
Passions will be cooled by hateful winds.
Every despot will be revered as an innovator.
Our world will be defined by derelict sin.

Love will be dashed on the rocks of hatred.
The elegist's pen will no longer bleed and cry.
All our adventure will be without venture.
On the day that our poet's dreams die.


© 2016 Eddie K. Phillips

© 2016 Eddie Phillips

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It will be a sad day indeed... We need to keep the Arts alive! Love this one, Eddie.

Posted 1 Year Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Eddie Phillips

1 Year Ago

The arts are being taken from us and it will be a sad world when they are gone

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1 Review
Added on August 20, 2016
Last Updated on August 20, 2016
Tags: The Day the Dream Dies


Eddie Phillips
Eddie Phillips

Denver, CO

Writer, Scholar, Martial Artist, Poet, etc. I write everything. Whatever is on my heart comes through my pen. I do not limit myself to only write what I think. I write what I feel. I write a lot .. more..