412. In the Horizon

Pacific_Sunset_Pismo_Beach_California

Tangerine-seas quench my day-parched soul,

With the hope that maybe tomorrow,

Will find it new and whole.

As the sun descends and light fades out,

I inhale deeply of it’s sweetness,

And expunge any doubt.

For the night is coming…time to sleep,

And dream of new, better tomorrows,

Yet, first I’ll drink and weep,

For the yesterday which burns away…

In the horizon.

K. Aldaya, 8/25/17

Picture: http://wallpaperweb.org/wallpaper/nature/pacific-sunset-pismo-beach-california_40871.htm

 

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408. Where is Hope?

Hope-May Spring went outside to sing,

And play among the flowers.

Her days were spent frolicking,

And dancing ‘way the hours,

In the sun.

One day she walked upon the stage,

To sing her song aloud.

She stepped bravely across the stage,

And sang out strong and proud:

Joyously.

Applause rang out through the room,

And Hope-May was o’erjoyed,

To have touched hearts within that room,

Her smile could not avoid…

Joining in.

Joy can’t last forever though,

And no story is so kind,

For as soon as it was time to go,

Her mother voiced her mind:

“Not the worst”.

Strangers praised her performance,

Yet her mother looked on sternly.

Her songs could never seem to dance,

Their way in mother’s heart to free…

Approval.

Through the years she heard no praise;

Nor laud. Nor compliment.

And soon she felt her mother’s gaze,

Was always there and sent…

Shivers down.

Ah, that voice was always there.

Always echoing: “Never enough!”,

Until the joy she used to share,

Sang out soft and gruff;

And empty.

Her joy, her mother ate it all;

Served with criticism and jeers.

Hope-May ate the meals all,

And swallowed down her tears…

In silence.

Hope-May Spring used to sing.

It’s said she sang quite well;

Though now she does not like to sing,

Nor does she ever tell…

Of her heart.

Though sometimes she dreams secretly,

Of those days so long ago,

When her heart was given joyously,

And hope could freely flow;

From her veins.

Hope-May Spring will sometimes sing,

And smile vacantly;

Though if you listen to her sing,

You’ll hear a sad and desperate plea:

“Where is Hope?”.

K. Aldaya, 7/13/17

371. Inertia

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Nightmares are only reverse dreams,

And ghosts are merely shadows.

Memories are just vivid streams,

Of self-perceptioned scenes.

Dreams are only reverse nightmares,

And shadows are merely ghosts.

Memories are the eyes which stare,

Deep down into our souls.

Phantoms haunt, and memories hurt;

And nightmares destroy dreams….

While time ticks on and on: inert,

To what we tell ourselves.

K. Aldaya, 9/25/16

Picture: Scene Capture from “Pretty Little Liars”; http://www.afterellen.com/tv/209853-pretty-little-liars-recap-4-19-shadow-play/3

342. In Dreams

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I dreamt about you last night,

So I didn’t want to wake,

To the first rays of the morning sun;

My eyes they could not shake,

And open to the dawn.

Why do you visit me in sleep?

Is there something you must say?

I don’t mind if you say nothing,

If you will only stay…

With me, ’til I wake.

How long have I sat alone,

In this house: aged and empty?

Longing for footsteps which prelude,

The presence of your company…

Within my heart.

I dreamt about you last night.

You sat down by my side,

And as we exchanged looks and pleasantries,

I couldn’t help feel an ache inside,

For the dreams which must always end.

K. Aldaya, 4/2/16

Picture: From Heartstrings kdrama; Uploaded by Toksuri on Tumblr; http://toksuri.tumblr.com/post/71207903971/love-backhug-moments

334. Night Dreams

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The foggy night is cool and glistens,

With the rains of yesterday,

And I find myself saddened again,

By the loneliness of it’s gray.

Yet, I know this is my hour of choice.

The peaceful and tranquil hour,

When most humans are found fast asleep,

And I feel most safe within my tower…

To look out into the universe,

And wish upon a star or moon,

For their beauty to become an eternal song,

So I may forever hum out their tune.

I long to stay and sing out,

Into the silence of eternity;

Though it makes me sad to be alone,

It’s far better with no company.

The stars will hear and twinkle bright,

And the moon will brightly beam.

No matter how dark and lonely the night,

It still can feel like a dream.

I’ve yet to meet one human being,

Who cares to hear my song or voice;

Instead my voice is ripped from me,

And the soul is left no choice…

It runs away and hides behind,

Cordialities and facades.

The body lingers devoid of life,

At the edge of gambled-odds.

There is no dream unbroken by,

The realities of humankind.

Will we ever be safe in each other’s arms,

Or truly understand another’s mind?

Until that day or maybe never,

I will hope and dream at night.

Alone I will sing to the distant moon,

And when tears fall they’ll express the flight,

Of my soul into the skies.

K. Aldaya, 2/25/16

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://www.playbuzz.com/shira10/22-unbelievable-facts-about-the-human-body-that-will-blow-your-mind

331. Bitter Reminiscence

Follow-Your-Dreams

How did the dreams of youth become,

So deep a pain inside?

How did I become so numb,

To the dreams once held with pride?

My dreams were once everything;

They helped me to cope,

And with every song that I would sing,

I’d feel a renewed hope.

How is it what once brought joy,

Brings now only pain?

The songs of youth soft and coy,

Sound out now as a bitter refrain.

I can not help how I feel.

I can’t change what’s happened;

Yet I sometimes still wonder how it would feel,

To have followed those dreams to the end.

K. Aldaya, 2/5/16

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://www.iamjoelbrown.com/motivation/16-reasons-why-its-so-important-to-follow-your-dreams/

291. Dreamcatcher

Reach-For-The-Stars-daydreaming-20119104-436-500

Intertwine the clouds tonight,

And form a magic spell;

To fish the dreams from the air,

Floating down from where they dwell.

The stars are the dream makers,

And the winds are human souls:

Soaring through the skies in sleep,

In nightly dream catching patrols.

The peaceful night, though beautiful,

Has an obvious downfall.

The darkness, it lacks clarity,

And into some dreams dark does fall.

Yet if enough souls wish for it,

And chant their hopes tonight.

The wind may form a magic ring,

Which lets through only light.

Let’s intertwine the clouds tonight,

To form a magic spell;

And fashion a moonlit dreamcatcher,

In the sky where all dreams dwell.

Tonight let’s conjure a magic spell.

K. Aldaya, 3/23/15

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/20100000/Reach-For-The-Stars-daydreaming-20119104-436-500.jpg

277. Seduction

Favourite-River-Boat-At-Sunset-Wallpaper

He knew better than to dream.

Yet he,…he dreamt anyway.

Darkness lifts for a time as days’ gleam.

Ah, the temptress-sun loves to play,

With the hearts of hopeful men.

Oh, see well what cannot be.

See thee clearly what will die,

When dark descends and souls we bury.

Unadjusted eyes more outcry,

The loss of ‘what might have been’.

Time is both reaper and muse;

E’er blooming and withering.

Aware it’s the reapers’ time we use,

To grab hope-worms a’slithering;

And live as ‘productive’ men.

He knew better than to dream,

Yet he,…he dreamt anyway.

The pain is greatest for men who dream.

Agony is sure,…Yet lo, the day!

What a seductive oarsman!

…on this boat to the River Styx.

K. Aldaya, 9/22/14

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://hdwallpapersly.com/favourite-river-boat-at-sunset-wallpaper/favourite-river-boat-at-sunset-wallpaper-2/

255. Never Enough

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I see.

I dream.

Why are dreams so tough…..

To hold?

To keep?

Yet so easy to create.

I dream.

You dream.

Though dreams can’t fight fate.

day-156-dirty-hands

And still.

We hold.

Struggle to grasp with two hands.

Our souls,

So deep.

Walking the line ‘tween two lands.

Was made.

Alive.

Hoping beyond all odds.

Destroyed,

And dead.

Both am I; and my head nods.

To earth.

To dust.

My creator and my exterminator.

My love.

My hate.

My lower and my greater.

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I hope.

I dream.

And dig in the dirt so rough.

My hands.

They bleed.

For the earth to feel me.

My soul.

It cries.

For the dreams which with dust will bury me.

I am.

I exist.

No it’s never enough for me.

No life.

No death.

I long for my dreams to be free!

K. Aldaya, 12/1/13

Picture:  “Dirty Hands” by Aaron on dailypayne.com; http://dailypayne.com/dirty-hands

251. Morning Run

early-morning-run

The morning air is clear and fresh;

And whimsical as a fairy.

She spreads her wings and dances,

Through my skin to carry,…

Me on my way.

My heart beats and prances.

The sun is rising up from sleep.

“Good-morn to all”, she beams.

I greet with a yawning bow;

And just as fair water streams,

I flow and shine,

Run wet with sweat on brow,…

Stronger in my dreams!

K. Aldaya, 08/29/03

Picture: Photo from the campus of Duke University and Durham, North Carolina: Photographer Unknown; http://law.duke.edu/gallery/84&pil=5

247. Soar Higher

tiny_dancer_by_insanelaurenjane-d5tqlbr

Into the world my child, she flies…,

Away and soars; but I am scared.

Will she be safe and always wise?

Did I teach her everything,

She needs to touch the skies?

And can I trust the world which I’ve never trusted?

To care for and protect one of my dearest treasures?

World of people through whose acts I am disgusted.

Who poisoned my heart until it broke and rusted.

Yet even I cannot protect,

Her, or him, or I from this life.

Control: an illusion’s inject,

So life we do not from the start reject.

If we thought about how each moment is taken,….

Stolen right in front of our eyes: so we close them;

We’d go crazy or mad, and sickness awaken.

So we say:  “Reasons are not godforsaken!”.

Whether there’s meaning to it all,

I know not and I dare not say.

I only know what’s to fear therewithal.

I pray she’ll be able to fly when in fall!

—-praying:  “Don’t be like me…., Please don’t end up like me at all!”

K. Aldaya, 8/6/13

Picture: “Tiny Dancer” by insanelaurenjane at Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Tiny-Dancer-352280439

238. Inside My Head

room-with-bed-fineartamerica.com-GaryHeller

Inside my head.

A couch.  A bed.

A world.  A dream.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A girl.  A ghost.

One hiding.  One host.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

She’s tortured.  She’s dead.

Over and over…

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A shadow.  A man,

With perverse plan.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

He haunts.  He hunts.

He torments.  He affronts.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A blackness.  A shape.

A darkness.  A rape.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A demon.  A hell.

Fear; despair dwell,

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

As I lie down in bed.

Wake to the dread…

In my head…

…..In my head.

K. Aldaya, 04/25/13

Picture: by Gary Heller; http://www.garyhellerphotography.com/album/abandoned-places?p=1#25

211. Beauty

Prescience of quotidian enchantments:

The dreams one dreams ‘fore dawn.

Flowers, stars, sun, and moon,

Would seem form’laic were thee gone.

Thy face illumes the perfunctory tides,

Of apathy…, banality;

For if striven assiduously,

Smiles freely radiate from thee.

Myopically one cannot do much more,

Then love this deb’nair season.

For one dreams, hopes, and loves more,

Near thy beauty past all reason.

K. Aldaya, 2008

145. Freedom to Dream

The birds fly through the trees,

Enriching our eyes with each glimpse.

The freedoms we seek from birth,

Flowing on wings of fair-primps:

Feathers of nature-bound worth.

Whisper your secrets to me on air,

Creaking down stagnant-dreamers:

Trees that reach toward the heavens,

Entreating enchantment-glimmers.

From the sun of divine-leavens.

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Float through the halls of Valhalla,

O’ blessed creatures, soar and deliver,

The glory-soaked emancipations,

Of souls of vast times…now a quiver;

On birds with knowledge for all nations.

Freedom’s not a gift or privilege,

Something given to only a few.

Freedom’s what every spirit born,

Through all times and every land through,

Needs to count themselves earth-born.

For just as the sun daily shines,

And the trees reach to catch its’ beams.

The birds, just as us, must seek also,

To live an existence which gleams.

And flying with wings let ago…

As all the souls who’ve come and go,

To find life is a haven of limitless dreams!

K. Aldaya, 6/11/05

Picture:  “Soar” by Nomadlens; http://www.nomadlens.com/old/index-showimage=60.php.html

137. Hearts of Hope

I rode by Hope Drive today,

On a day as any day,

Steady on the sought-for path,

Chasing fluid-dreams that below gray clouds hath.

What is it about this land,

Which makes us e’er strive o’er sand?

Shifted by the winds of chance,

On roads we flow on in a lively dance.

Little known about the course,

But for the sun and moons’ source.

Predictable dances danced,

To the flourishing of us: daily entranced.

Bearing caskets of regret,

And pains dug-up from times’ set.

Creaking-timber haunts foots stepped,

Upon aged-stone where progress is oft’ backswept.

Then a season comes to clear,

For a moment trusts seem near.

On a day like any other,

The tired road traveled passes another.

Desires to continue…,

Trust in humans found anew.

“Life is short”, we echo out,

As a brazen bell of funerals devout.

So we drive along our way,

Each and every bloody day,

Stepping on the cracks we’ve made,

On roads we ride on in daily masquerade.

Our footprints cut in the cracks,

Pouring crimson hurts from backs,

Over-burdened with remorse,

From the afflictions of predescended course.

Even with our scarlet feet,

Weeping from our journeys’ seat.

Eyes glisten with the sure sight,

Of a Hope Drive: reminding us of the light!

I rode by Hope Drive today,

On a day as any day,

Steady on lifes’ constant path,

Chasing the hope of dreams which each heart hath.

K. Aldaya, 5/7/05

133. Stalking the Soul

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Life’s a facade,

Crammed comprehensively with faces;

Vibrantly stroked charade,

Of nonsensical graces.

Dreams are clearer,

Fantastically textured residue,

Of the looking mirror;

And in the soul reigns most true.

Speak in mine ear,

Not of erratic, conclusioned-truth,

Rather of the fear,

That dreams must be lost in dead-youth.

Dreams lie transposed,

Sedulously entrancing my core,

Vulgarly exposed,

But reverently sought even more!

K. Aldaya, 4/16/05

Picture:  “Lost in the Crowd” by ShisSharon on Flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/28291679@N06/3954821896/

123. End of Dreams

Tranquility…

Drips of a dream.

Conjuring a restful stream.

In timid waters floating by,

Raindrops from a broken sky…

Do sentence it all as lie!

Serenity,

Can be thou true,

Though immersed in times awakening dew?

Twilight doth carry….floating by…..

Poisons of moments gone by.

Innocence lost.

Dreams drip…die…

K. Aldaya, 2/20/05

94. Restful Sleep

O’ Land of dreams,

I look to thee,

For perceptibility.

O’ Land of dreams,

Help me to view,

A glad fantasy anew.

bed zanzibar

O’ Land of dreams,

Let me there land,

On golden shore, bright and grand.

O’ Land of dreams,

Grant me true rest,

On a bed with fair-lace dressed.

O’ Land of dreams,

Bid me repose,

Within kindly dreams enclose.

K. Aldaya, 10/31/04

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://www.stijnbiemans.nl/danzarte-circusshow-zanzibar-jan-thiel-baai-curacao/

66. Tonight

moonovercity

Tonight,

All the world rests their heads.

Lying down in their known beds.

Every soul yawns a yawn,

To last until the breaking dawn.

Every eye is shutting tight,

Speaking to the moon goodnight.

All the troubles of their day,

Are floating off,

Are miles away.

Tonight, thoughts are replaced with dreams,

Where happiness passionately beams.

K. Aldaya, 7/20/04

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.goodwp.com/large/201210/25187.jpg

5. Two Worlds

 golden-wheat-field

The wind it blows through these wheat fields.  The sun shines down, warming the air.  I stand amidst this stunning beauty just looking all around. The ground is soft. The air is cool and light. The clouds they are many and scattered about in this sky that is bluer than ever before.  The scents in the air are of perfumes of angels, and the wind blows with a lightness that goes right to the bones.  I close my eyes and breathe it all in and hope that this will never end.  Suddenly the sky grows dark and the sun is gone and nowhere in sight.  The wheat in the distance starts to fall and vanish; leaving only  the dark dirt in its’ wake.  Quickly it moves…closer and closer, until all around me is dirt; and the scent in the air of damp soil burdens my lungs making each new breath harder and harder.  Then all at once the wind dies as well and my body feels heavy and weak.  I just stand there in this scene of nothing wishing this scene never had to appear; but this scene and world is reality and the other only something that can be in my dreams.  So I fall to the ground and close my eyes wishing that this world didn’t have to be and the world with the life was the ‘real’ reality; not this picture of emptiness and desolation…this world of nothingness, nothing, none….life, totally gone.

K. Aldaya, 9/21/02

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://wheatgrassbenefitsreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/golden-wheat-field.jpg