I Have A Dream - Winner

I am happy to have receive the entries I have. Two of the participants wanted to write two poems but I only accepted one from each. I hope that in the future, if I ever learn to manage my time efficiently, that you guys can participate in another of my contest. Being a judge is not easy. I struggled detaching from my own emotions and beliefs and just focus on what is in front of me. I could feel the energy and emotion in each of these poems. Some poems reminded me of how ignorant I am and simultaneously made me appreciate the internet. For today, I declared Mr. Larry as the Winner with his poem "Dreaming." I look forward to going back and re reading these pieces in the future.

Thank you everyone!

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Title: I Have A Dream
By: Linda

To be seen through,
clearly and concisely,
understood,
undeniably.

The transparency of my heart,
the pure beauty on display.
Embracing my personality,
being the light within the day.

My intentions recognized,
beholding my freedom within.
The radiance projecting out,
it glitters on my skin.

My shyness to dissolve.
My voice ringing like a bell
when I sing intricate melodies
the magic requires no spell.

I have a dream to be a fascination,
quietly loved by a someone.
To be the one to pull the heart-strings,
so we both may be undone.

I long to be accepted,
to be treated like a treasure.
I have a dream to be loved
without giving a grand gesture.

When they look at me they are overcome
with gratitude and desire.
I can be the spark in the dryness
that ignites their inner fire.

I long to star inside his dream,
while he slumbers in space’s canopy.
As we’re racing through the stars and dust
breaking Earth’s conditioned insanity.

I have a dream of reciprocity,
I want the real me to be known.
I have a dream to be loved for me, as is,
so I don’t ever feel alone.

Comment: First of all, thank you for sharing your dream with us readers. I believe this is a dream that is shared with many, specially the first stanza:

"To be seen through,
clearly and concisely,
understood,
undeniably.

At the beginning when I started reading through the poem, I was slightly confused with the format. It looks like the title is being used to link the first four stanzas.
I do wonder, are the periods at the end of each stanza necessary? After reading the poem many times, this is how I started reading a part of the poem. I'm not saying to modify your poem. I'm just sharing how I am reading it.

Title: I Have A Dream

To be seen through,
clearly and concisely,
to be understood,
undeniably

for the transparency of my heart,
the pure beauty on display
embracing my personality,
being the light within the day

For my intentions to be recognized,
beholding my freedom within
the radiance projecting out
almost as if glittering on my skin

For my shyness to dissolve
For my voice ringing like a bell
when I sing intricate melodies
the magic requires no spell

Anyhow, for a moment the dream reminded of a quote I learnt a while back at a Calculus class I was taking. This quote was shared by my professor
"One should aim not at being possible to understand, but at being impossible to misunderstand." Quintilian

I guess if your dream is to be clearly understood, then the goal should be to be impossible to be misunderstood. In order for that dream to be a reality, one should work towards it. The interesting part though is that in this poem it sounds as if your goal or dream is to be understood only by a single individual, or do you want to be understood by anyone and everyone? In my case, if I want to be understood by just a few, I hang out with those who don't mind being asked questions. Overall, my aim is to be impossible to be misunderstood. I am aware that it's almost an impossible task yet that's what makes it so tantalizing.

In this stanza,

I have a dream of reciprocity,
I want the real me to be known.
I have a dream to be loved for me, as is,
so I don’t ever feel alone.

I'm not sure how to write my thought process. My way of thinking is that one can feel alone even in a crowd and one cannot feel alone even when in solitude. I hated when I used to feel alone with people. I always wanted solitude because within solitude I never felt lonely. I mean, I know me, as is. We all see the world through different angles. I think that if we all learnt to clearly communicate, we might just be able to all shared what we see, and within that process, finally see the whole entire picture. Your poem and your dream is more inclined towards finding a soul mate. I can be wrong but that's what I ultimately understood. Finding a partner who is willing to take the time to listen, communicate, and to be truly there for you is not easy. It takes two to make it work. I wish you all the best. Sorry, if I misunderstood.

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Title: Dreaming
By: Larry Chamberlin

So many dreams I have had
so many will-o-the-wisps
fog in the marsh,
clouds in the canyons.

Love, happiness, children, adventure
some dreams come true in time
but you’re no longer the dreamer
each dream ends with awakening.

I dreamed of travel to new places
and found myself in each new land
much I thought I’d be changed
yet subtly I was without even seeing.

I dreamed of falling deeply in love
devoting my life to The One
who’d capture my heart -
make me want to be by her always.

I dreamed of children to raise
without the mistakes of my parents
who would be safe and openhearted
and look always to me for guidance.

I dreamed of growing wise and old
with deeper understanding of my self
and of the cosmos - fit the pieces
like the puzzles I loved dearly.

Who would not dream of these
such are the stuff that dreams
are always made of - to be the
hero in your own life - for real.

Yet the dreamer can never be
the person who fulfils the dream
for in doing so you awaken,
must accept let-down reality.

Nothing lasts for long
all is caprice and whirled away
like straw in a dust-devil
minute nothings without a trace.

Lest we succumb to nihilism
let us recall the instant
each dream began
the magic
hope.

So
if I wish
for anything
it would be to never
stop dreaming forever more.

LMC 12 August 2025

Comment: I find myself reading and rereading this poem. I am not sure what to write.
While reading, I find myself nodding through some stanzas. There's other stanzas, I find myself questioning. You know what? I guess I'll start with the ones I question.

"Love, happiness, children, adventure
some dreams come true in time
but you’re no longer the dreamer
each dream ends with awakening."

^ Isn't that the point of a dream? to awaken? I consider myself a dreamer. Dreaming is part of who I am. When I read this stanza, a part of me felt sad. I guess I'm trying to figure out why I was greeted with that sensation. A part of me wants to argue that even when dreams come true, we are still dreamers. The reason why I think this way is because dreams are like a hope. We hope for something to come a reality. We work to make that dream true. Once the dream becomes true, we still have to keep working towards keeping that dream alive per se. My thought process turn this way because this stanza sounds melancholic. It sounds as if a dream becoming true will eventually kill the dreamer. Dreams becoming reality are not killers.

Let me chill. ( Breathing in. Breathing out. pheeew. )

wait... perhaps, whether we remain dreamers or not, might be dependent on the type of dream we have?

I think this is too much for my brain to handle. Let me continue and see what happens next.

"I dreamed of children to raise
without the mistakes of my parents
who would be safe and openhearted
and look always to me for guidance."

^^^ This is an incredible dream. I am not sure if it ever came true. I hope it did. I also hope that if it did come true, that this dream becoming a reality didn't kill the dreamer. I mean, I can only imagine that if the kids grew up and constantly approaches for guidance, without giving some type of break, I can see how that dream might end up killing the dreamer. At some point the kids have to somehow learn for their own mistakes. Wait, now I am questioning whether Dreams becoming a reality are indeed killers?
Let's continue...

"I dreamed of growing wise and old
with deeper understanding of my self
and of the cosmos - fit the pieces
like the puzzles I loved dearly."

^^^ Has this dream become a reality? I enjoy fitting pieces of a puzzle too. I can finish a puzzle and try it again and again. At some point I may lose interest. If I put the puzzle away for a while, and I come back to it later, I can still enjoy it. I guess I'm still trying to hold dearly to the idea that dreams becoming true are not killers.
This is a dream that's hard to accomplish. If it were to become true, would that dream be enough to kill the dreamer inside? Would having a deeper understanding of your own self and of the cosmos, be enough to not remain a dreamer? In my case, if that dream became true, I'll be fascinated.

" Yet the dreamer can never be
the person who fulfils the dream
for in doing so you awaken,
must accept let-down reality."

^^ See, it comes back to that melancholic depressive tone. I like dreaming because it gives me hope. I use that hope as the fuel that keeps me going.
Once a dream becomes true, it modifies the reality at least that's what my experiences have led me to believe. I hold dear to that dream still. I do not wish to let the dream die just because it became true.
once that dream becomes true, I am living the dream. Reality is a living dream I slowly awaken to. Once I'm fully awake into that dream, there's more room to dream.

Wait, dreams are also nightmares, right?. Unwantedly, we can also work towards making nightmares a reality.

I am having a hard time understanding why the dreamer can never be the person who fulfills the dream? I supposed I need to detach myself from my beliefs and just focus on what is presented within the poem.

Nothing lasts for long
all is caprice and whirled away
like straw in a dust-devil
minute nothings without a trace.

^^^ Yes, hard work can be destroyed in seconds. Leaving no trace of it.

Lest we succumb to nihilism
let us recall the instant
each dream began
the magic
hope.

^^^ nihilism is the belief that life is meaningless. It sounds like a bad thing to succumb to but if I think about it there's meaning in the meaningless.
The meaningless is something that is just misunderstood. I am not saying succumb to it. It's more of a depressive look at life. Though for some people, exploring but not succumbing to nihilism, can at some point, help them appreciate the life they have.

So
if I wish
for anything
it would be to never
stop dreaming forever more.

^^ awww this warms my heart.

Alright, this poem had me on the edge. It had me questioning whether dreams becoming true eventually kill the dreamer in us. Does awakening means we are no longer dreaming? There's a thing call day dreaming. We can still dream while awake. I like the poem had a twist. At first read, the author made me believe he was giving up on dreaming but the ending says otherwise. Overall, my take about the poem is that it seems once dreams become reality, the dreamer stops dreaming. If i were to have this type of mentality, I would probably just choose to have a dream that never ends. However, my mentality is inclined towards once a dream is fulfilled, the dream continues to evolve per se, sometimes even branching into newer ones. The only nit-pick I have is that I feel like the ending could have been more impactful. I am not sure what it is but there is something that doesn't quiet connect the last two stanzas. Overall, I find this poem filled with lots of emotions. It moves me. It made me question my own beliefs. Thank you for participating.

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Title: A Plea to the Deceitful Stars
By GEL

Is it a crime to love so deep,
That even angels wake and weep?
Yet sorrow answers, sharp and near,
Its breath, a blade I nightly hear.

My thoughts, like birds, take flight, then fall,
To strike against fate’s iron wall.
No harbor left where peace may stay,
Only the tide that pulls away.

This heart is ready though it bleeds
To meet the one my soul still needs.
Whoever’s meant to be my own,
I’ll treasure him as I have shown.

I mask my wounds, but shadows know,
They trail my heart where’er I go.
Why must your wrath be fixed on me,
O twisted hand of destiny?
Is there no right for one who prays,
To taste the dawn of gentler days?

My mind takes flight in restless streams,
Then shakes away unfinished dreams.
With nothing left to hold or bind,
No peace, no ease, no rest to find.

My heart stands ready, though it bleeds,
For love to come and meet my needs.
Whoever’s meant to be my own,
I’ll treasure him as I have shown.

Hear my dreams, hear me cry,
Cast to the cold and merciless sky.
With trembling hands and salt stained eyes,
I beg, I plead, I agonize
Withhold not the treasure my soul has sought,
The dream long woven in threads of thought

O faithless stars, must you conspire,
To quench my heart’s most fragile fire?
If love exists, then let it be mine,
Before this soul forgets to shine.

—

Comment: Yay! I was reading this poem and for a moment it made me feel like I was singing. I immediately started counting syllables.

The majority of the poem is written in iambic tetrameter. Except for these stanzas:

Hear my dreams, hear me cry,
Cast to the cold and merciless sky.
With trembling hands and salt stained eyes,
I beg, I plead, I agonize
Withhold not the treasure my soul has sought,
The dream long woven in threads of thought

O faithless stars, must you conspire,
To quench my heart’s most fragile fire?
If love exists, then let it be mine,
Before this soul forgets to shine.

I was pleasantly reading it until I reached this sections. Was this done on purpose?

perhaps, it can be edited it to go with the flow of the poem? Or perhaps, it's best to maintained the integrity of meaning and imaginary?

I was thinking... you don't have to edit, this is just a suggestion

oh hear my dreams, oh hear me cry
do cast a spell towards the sky
with trembling hands and salt stained eyes,
I beg, I plead, I agonize
Do not withhold the gem I sought
the woven dream in threads of thought

O faithless stars, must you conspire,
to quench my heart's most fragile fire?
If love exist, let it be mine
before this soul forgets to shine.

Oh the tragedy. This poem is filled with lots of emotion. I love that. The rhymes are well done. I also like that you are using a refrain .

Third stanza:

this heart is ready though it bleeds
To meet the one my soul still needs.
Whoever’s meant to be my own,
I’ll treasure him as I have shown.

Six Stanza:

My heart stands ready, though it bleeds,
For love to come and meet my needs.
Whoever’s meant to be my own,
I’ll treasure him as I have shown.

Was this a poem made of two different form poetry? If so, what kind of form poetry is that? If not, did you came up with your own pattern? Regardless, Thank you for participating. Well done.

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Title: A Priori
By:Mahal Ko Kuya Ko

Lately, I have been remembering
so much of my younger years,
memories unfurling and dragging me
to the soft cadence of those tender days—
glutinous rice, sinigang in guava,
the incoming footsteps of my Mother,
and the way I hurry to make my bed.

It's hard for me to cross a busy street,
but this isn't about that.
I've read so much about Carthage
that it has been stuck in my head
for a month and 2 weeks now—
its lost glory and impermanence,
a ruin echoing my own.

Do you also feel it?
The nostalgia and pain
exclusive only to the rain of Manila—
the scent of wet earth
and the stings of summer.

In the cracked pavements
of this haunting city,
dandelions still grow.

I can't cross this crowded street,
stalled at its cruel edge,
but there you are on the other side—
the second-coming
of my youthful dreams—
reborn yet unreachable.

Yes, this isn't about that,
but I can never reach you.

You are the spaces I can never close.

Comment: I had to look for the definition of priori. According to the dictionary, priori means "relating to an argument that suggests the probable effects of a known cause, or using general principles to suggest likely effects."

I can feel the nostalgic feeling in this piece but I can't connect the dots. I like that I was able to imagine the rain and almost smell the wet earth. The brevity in this poem is amazing. But I am confused about what the nostalgia is related to? Is it nostalgia due to never again experiencing the same youth? Is it nostalgia for perhaps not spending the same amount of time with the mom? As we grow up, time seems to go faster and often is hard to catch up.
The reference of Carthage and linking it to its own persona, "a ruin echoing my own" does a great job at portraying the sadness. I'll have to come back to this piece later on. I feel like I can't quiet connect to it right now. The way this poem is written has a mystery that I love and draws me in. Perhaps, later on, I might be able to figure it out.

Thank you for participating.

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Title: Dream of Fire
By: BOB GALLO

Lo, I am a dreamer,
and for this cause I wander alone
through this forsaken wilderness of God.

The word dreaming opened the gate;
and lo, they set before me a marble castle.
Yet they knew me not,
for I am no king,
but a worshiper only,
a keeper of flame
in the holy fire-temple of Zaratustra.

They spake not the truth unto thee:
that reality is but another dream,
and every dream, verily,
its own reality.

Behold, my dream is fire:
it runneth swift through all thy candles,
devouring the works of thine hands,
and all that boweth down unto flame.

For the dream of the pure is fire,
the crucible and the cleansing,
the alloy and the judgment,
the measure of that eternal gold
which burneth in the secret heart of all.

Comment: I am going to comment based on what comes to my mind as I read this piece. Please read my comment with a grain of salt (figuratively speaking). I have a question. Does being a dreamer implies one must wander alone?

I am not familiar with Zaratustra. Is Zaratustra written in Spanish? I googled the word but whenever I search for it, I'm given Zarathustra as a result.
In either search it says that Zaratustra is a Persian Prophet but then there's some reference to "Thus Spake Zarathustra A book for all and none" a work of philosophical fiction written by German Philosopher Friedrich Nietzche.

I found that book here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1998/1998-h/1998-h.htm

In this poem, I'm not sure what Zaratustra is. Is it in reference to the prophet? or someone else? or the work of fiction ? or something else?

I do however like this:

They spake not the truth unto thee:
that reality is but another dream,
and every dream, verily,
its own reality.

^^^ This stanza made me node in agreement. I mean I am not agreeing that I wasn't being told the truth. Actually, I do not know what the truth is. I just know that I would like a reality that is so dreamy.

Behold, my dream is fire:
it runneth swift through all thy candles,
devouring the works of thine hands,
and all that boweth down unto flame.

^^^^ It's difficult for me to understand the meaning of this stanza. I like the imagery. I enjoy the voice.

For the dream of the pure is fire,
the crucible and the cleansing,
the alloy and the judgment,
the measure of that eternal gold
which burneth in the secret heart of all.

^^^^ My take is the dream is the fire but the reality is the fuel that allows that dream to grow and simultaneous either devour that own reality or maintain it as it is.
Interesting. I'm not certain if I would have a different perspective about this poem if I were familiar wtih Zaratrustra. Overall, I like reading this poem.
It feels like I'm being told a story. I like the voice and imagery. I do feel like I want to read more. I feel like it's not complete.
Or perhaps, its because I do not have the knowledge to fully comprehend this piece? Definitely, something I will be coming back to read later on. Thank you for participating.

Thank you, Everlasting, for your time and effort; I truly appreciate your input. I made an exception in participating here, as I almost never write poems beginning with an a priori title—or, in this case, from a given prompt. I usually choose the title only after finishing the piece, or let the subject choose me.
Still, I was drawn to the theme, for I am a dreamer. I have practiced the art of dreaming with overwhelming success, yet here it was the humbling experience I truly needed. And thank God, winning was never the goal for me. This has been deeply satisfying in itself.
You said, "...II do not have the knowledge to fully comprehend this piece? " But I had given you the option of choosing between two poems, after you mentioned you only wanted to pick one, so why choose the one you felt you did not understand?
That said, I did enjoy the poem “A Priori,” and the subject of your contest, as I said. Pat yourself on the shoulder (haha, just one though, since you didn’t take two poems from me! :)
All the best,
DD

Congratulations to Mr. Larry! And thank you, Ms. Lucero!

Great job to everyone who participated!

" But I had given you the option of choosing between two poems, after you mentioned you only wanted to pick one, so why choose the one you felt you did not understand?

^^^

Well, that’s the hundred million question. It’s like whenever I am asked “why do you love your husband? “

The answer is “I don’t know”. . .

It had a voice that speaks directly to me but I do not completely understand it but I want to understand it

so I picked that one .

Yes, Lucero—very understandable, and perfectly logical. Happens to me all the time.

"Well, that’s the hundred million question."

Ah, finally! At least I’ve won something. A hundred million dollars, I hope. Imagine that—losing has never been so profitable. I always knew I was destined to be a millionaire. Now tell me—where do I collect my prize, and do I need to bring a suitcase?

“Well, that’s the hundred million question.”

^ ah, I meant to write the above like this
“that’s like the hundred million question “ to make it obvious that it was a simile or metaphor