I write when I dream asleep at night,
felt pen feathered candle lit site.
Dirt roads stoned as if their paved,
sword and shield both emblem engraved.
No stores distantly seen a lit,
no computed line of bytes and bits.
Horses four legged I hear their trots,
years away from hearing the gun and shots.
Dreaming sleeping at my desk at night,
perhaps it's of my past life I write.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 26th, 2025 07:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, PerditaRose
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Comments2
Well written, my friend. Your poem explores the concept of dreams as a gateway to the past, suggesting that in our subconscious state, we may revisit memories or experiences from previous lives. It offers a reflective and nostalgic view of a simpler time, contrasting the modern world with a more primal, untainted existence.
This poem is a bit haunting as it reflects on dream like images of a past life. Nicely done
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