Unnamed Poem #39

Dreams sing as only sorrow sings,
Beneath the waning moon at night.
The stars bloom beneath the crowning sun,
Oh morrow’s day it will light.
Then beneath her shadow in modest wake,
Uprising from a seamless sleep,
The sun will once again call
All average men left defeat.
She will tempt them with what only day can tempt,
But to the nights advantage, only a sad attempt.
For dreams are what create this reality,
And the day reminds us of our mortality;
For in dreams, we are immortal.

Reviews

[R E Tree]

I like the imagery of day turning to night. Then men sleeping having dreams. The poem has a relaxing tone and flows sweetly like a dream.

[MiidniightSoul]

I think you wrote this poem very beautifully. Very good ^___^

[acbarringer]

I think it is really good. I think it is written well, though it lacks the personal conviction and passion of some of the more personal poems. Really it seems detached a bit, but the active verbs, the images, a kind of balance and no affected rhyming... But why "morrow's day?" Why is shadow modest? Why is sleep seamless? What is to the "night's advantage"?
"For dreams are what create this reality."