Doers and Dreamers

I was a dreamer.

You couldn't pour learning into his ear.
It wasn't that simple
You could force his face to the page
But he still couldn't see
What shone like the great ball of fire at mid-day
And was glaring to the likes of you and me
While the words skipped and danced
Across the blank sheet of my mind
I'd look into his eye and envy the picture I'd find
He wasn't with us for most of the day
In the end the teacher gave up and let him play
While I learned he dreamt and I had no doubt
That he was walking along shores
The other side of oceans
That I had yet to read about

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

I was a dreamer Bryan, I never picked up a pen till I was forty, spurred on by an avalanche of hurt feelings. A poetry reader forever, but the writing came late. It is never too late to learn new skills. Your poem has a message for those who dream too much.

Chris

[Bryan Sefton]

None of us know what we are capable of until we try. I find it so relaxing, like doing a crossword.Plus, your comments are an added incentive. Thank you.