A Poets Dreams Poem by kevin bigham

How does one dream of love when the heavens cry


when long sighs, reminds of Spring days gone by

where the allure of the chase never waned, and love eases the hearts pain,

i would start by catching beautiful bows at the end of summer rains

where would thoughts of love be lead

if dreams nurtured and fed, replaced excuses instead

and the crooked path straightened to the road ahead

insecurity of thoughts fled, maybe what was written, would be said

their would exist no sorrow, sunny yesterdays would turn into brighter tomorrows

and Cupids arrow, would pierce the shadow, of every Rose that ever bled.


For one moment focus not on the reality but the dream

the emotions, the steady rhythm of a bleeding heart

from the feeling that leaves one reeling, i find most appealing

because as i use descriptive scriptures, forming beautiful pictures

my one and only dream is to create a perfect work of art

and like an actor in a play, i rehearse my days, putting ink to page

covering your entire surface with superfluous purpose

i make the canvass your personal stage

our souls meet, our spirits touch, and then as if destined, we engage

my favorite part, , , always the intricacies of the human heart

because i stand forever defined the true poet

and this is how dreams always start


I close my eyes and touch you with my fingers

you exhale warm thoughts as if shallow breaths

and as i trace your image, wonderful memories linger

i lightly brush your figure, for the body is a sacred temple

playfully i squeeze your earlobes, lightly i stroke your dimples

the artist seeks metaphorical philosophies to write abstract realities

studying adaptive abstractives, writing contrived preconceived narratives

I define the wisp of your inner beauty, creating seduction

and using broad lyrical brush strokes i put quill to ink

painting my fantasy as if by numbers, step by step, link by link

and i attempt to write my name all over your lithesome frame

in the hopes that i will make your mind stir, and your heart again purr

and the invisible lines between the dream and the reality start to blur

as an expressionist, my greatest wish is to have someone to cherish

my heart desires you as my Queen, and the poet always scripts his dreams...KB