Only In My Dreams

by Ben Pickard   Feb 16, 2021


Beneath that ancient oak and underneath the darkling sky,
I once declared to you the doubts that kept me caged.
No matter what I wrote - however hard I tried -
The ink would never dry upon my page.

You listened with a tenderness that grew from what we sowed,
And brushed away my tears with blossom in your hands;
You knew my banks would break - the river overflow -
And wash away the earth that let me stand.

You cradled me and held me with those eyes that kept me sane,
And though I cried, you raised a sore and ragged heart;
I know you still, through all these many years and pain,
And wish, what is my end, was just the start.

I now recall that time, reflecting on the path I forged,
And wonder if the grass was ever really green.
I'll sit beneath this cursed oak forevermore,
And dream of all the things that only in my dreams I've seen.

--

Ben Pickard 2021

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Latest Comments

  • 5 days ago

    by Maher

    Mr Pickard, I've not heard lines as powerful as these in some time:

    "I'll sit beneath this cursed oak forevermore,
    And dream of all the things that only in my dreams I've seen."

    I did this just tonight actually. Though there was sand where the Oak should be, but when I watched the waves for long enough I could see some remnants of dreams in them. As always, your writing is brilliant. Thank you for sharing your work with us all :)

    • 5 days ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you so much, Maher. Hope you're well.

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Milly Hayward

    Perfection as usual. What more can I say but a real pleasure to read. Milly x

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you, Milly. Hope you're well.

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Brenda

    Ok Ben, obviously I cannot comment near as well as your lovely daughter just did...are you sure she's only 13? Lovely piece, beautiful in your rhymes. Well done sir!

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks, Brenda. And thirteen is quite scary enough, thank you, so please don't add any more years!

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    I've been listening to an 'ode less traveled' I'm sure Stephen Fry would be as impressed as i am.
    Jolly well done!!

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      I really do respect that man, so thank you, Michael!

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Keira Pickard

    An absolutely beautiful poem, Dad, consisting of an A,B,A,B, rhyme structure, and one line of fourteen syllables, two of twelve and then a line of ten syllables at the end of each stanza, though, in the final stanza, the syllable count changes to fourteen, twelve, twelve, fourteen.
    A truly stunning piece to read, well rhymed and worded throughout. I loved the last stanza best, because of the power in it.
    Excellent :)

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you, Keira. Wonderful comment.

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