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Posts tagged ‘dream’

Dreams of childhood

The sky of childhood is azure

the dream of childhood is sweet

the dream of childhood is a winter morning

hiding in bed

looking at the window grilles

listening to fairy tales

the dream of childhood is a prairie of spring

a group of friends

running around amongst wildflowers

watching butterflies and bees shuttling

and birds flying freely

the dream of childhood is a summer afternoon

lying quietly in bed

after a cool bath

listening to grasshoppers singing

under the eaves

the dream of childhood is a garden of autumn

still that group of friends

doing cartwheel

chasing crickets

under the clear syrupy sky

of childhood.


Bird in a dream

The bird in a dream

unfolds beautiful wings

flies in boundless skies

through patches of wilderness

feeling all kinds of colors

of the world

the dream of you

beautiful as ever

in flashing melody

you dance wonderfully

ordinary me

still dreaming.


The sky is clarity

fine moon

like a hook

faint scent of flowers

quiet serene

a gazebo

the distant hazy mountain

soft shiny lake water

scenery of silence

when sakura fall

into endless sea of thoughts

beautiful memory is picked up

on the edge of this



The sun climbing

over the wall of the sky

shedding a ray of golden light

leaving a segment of

vast reverie

the aroma of grass

the songs of bees

the dance of butterflies

the chirping of birds

telling of the fragrance

of wheat

smiles of the sunflowers

are everywhere in the field

wings of angels

flying in the clouds

guarded by a dream

in silence

not far from here.


Dream is a mountain
a legend standing firm
dream is a long long river
an eternal theme
dream is a little boat
the oath of a millennium
you’re the banquet of youth that never ends
the poem of life that never changes
the lamp of life that is

In a dream

unfurling gentleness
the welkin
like a cloistered lake
the wind surging
a new moon
angling thoughts
awaiting a dream
to sketch a flower
and a fox
two different plots
kneaded into one
the canvas lost
when paints were mixed
and washed by a garden hose
when the first light


Sunlight tilted,

moving gently,

on the smooth varnish of the table,

like the hands of a clock,


the scattered and fragmentary time,

an empty afternoon,

like countless tiny water droplets,

destined to be,


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