"One More Please" by Emile Munier ‘Dreams as a Child’ and Other Poetry by David Hollywood The Society January 15, 2018 Beauty, Poetry 8 Comments Dreams as a Child Remember our lives in dreams as a child, When tingled excitement tickled inside, Surging in giggles which shivered our nerves, As hands clasped in joining’s which laughs only served, And then our hugged shoulders were high with the mirth, Of wondrous adventures that stemmed from our birth. While viewing our life while still we were coy, We saw all the promise which meant only joy, And friends and relations who came to our view, Shone lamps through their eyes in a brightness anew, As each one good natured, respected our due, Examples were plenty of all that seemed true, With people so friendly, no problems to see. And truth was so honest, we thought life was free. But later we learned just how fickle it was, As we tempered our talents through pasts that we passed, And innocent yearnings elapsed as we marched, Towards ourselves challenged by sparkles now parched, Encountering setbacks along our life’s way, Impeded our poise by uncertainties sway, Nervous bout future composures unplanned, When all that we want is to know where we stand. What should have enjoined with all we esteem, Was passion and proof for the lives that we dreamed, But causes are lost when pain cannot see, Which people shall suffer where nothing is free, Those thoughtless in conscience, uncaring will show, Hollow respect for regards they don’t know. Our spirit was glad of the innocence learned, At the time when we saw all the visions we yearned. Ideals stem from a childhood assured, Whose lives live for virtue in morals endured, And up until times that people aren’t kind, Nothing contaminates an innocent’s mind, Simplicity reigns in an unaffected state, If sincerities calm because it’s innate, And so it is during our earliest years, That we set off so fresh, cause we’re born without fears. Guidance in Disguise Does age show wisdom’s yearned for? Earned? Is life just guidance in disguise? And work is nothing more than years, Of ideals lost, to all our fears, Does time exhibit what we learned? —As wasted hopes, ambitions spurned? —In favour of deluded dreams! Envisage what tomorrow means? If sights will weep before they send, An image of the life we end. But what is left, If youth has sung, Of stories which forever long, To live in hope, because their young, And see adventures overcome the darkness, as the years appear, To sweep our lives past something flung, Into the light that glows so bright, Intensified desires, we might Just overcome! Before we’re none! David Hollywood co-Directed The Bahrain Writer’s Circle and founded and ‘The Colours of Life’ poetry festival in Bahrain , The Gulf, and latterly worked in Antigua, The West Indies upon a variety of poetry in performance events. He is the author of an eclectic collection of poems titled ‘Waiting Spaces’ plus co-author of ‘My Beautiful Bahrain’, ‘Poetic Bahrain’, ‘More of My Beautiful Bahrain’, ‘Lonely’ and a variety of further publications. He was the in-house poet for ‘Bahrain Confidential Magazine’ and is one of the most widely read poets in The Middle East. He is a literary critic for ‘Taj Mahal Review’ plus an essayist on the subject of poetry appreciation. There are plans for a new collection of poetry and essays to be released in 2018. David has additional responsibility for the teaching of Wine Appreciation Programmes and Themes which he developed for the hospitality industry, and currently lives in his home country of Ireland. Related Post ‘The Mellow Season’ by Carole Mertz Ah, now comes the mellow season, Marks its time with jackdaws caws. Autumn with its rusty reason Offers forth its season’s laws. Now no more the... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 8 Responses David Watt January 15, 2018 Thank you David for these poems. My favorite is ‘Dreams as a Child’ because it recalls the innocence of youth, and thrill of new experience. Reply David Hollywood January 16, 2018 Thank you David for your comments and support of our efforts within this grouping, and I am happy there is something within ‘Dreams as a Child’ that sparks a memory, whether emotionally or thoughtfully. Reply ben grinberg January 16, 2018 i was a child at 21, in california, in the woods i thought that growing up meant work i ceased my play put on a suit pretended to play a grown up jerk so stupid was i that when life turned black i thought that it was i messed up from that view point i could become either a victim or a schmuck 13 years now gone by. my mind and body broken. i realized people are false, they lie to put on faces. i would’ve been better off doing nothing just one proactive thought would have been enough the irony of it is that i had left the evil world and i was happy and at peace but it was that teaching itself, that had allowed me to transcend my petty mind that forced me from a wrong viewpoint to re-enter that rat wheel. you can’t fight fate. because what you think is good may not be. you can only keep moving. even when betrayed by the world. and all things. because that trial itself, that job-like trial, is also part the test. Reply David Hollywood January 16, 2018 Thank you Ben for your comparative reflection through your own contribution, and yes, we all seem to have to accept the changes that result from growing up, and then older, and what that entails and means to each, and whether that allows us to remember what we started with, dreamed of, and hoped for! Reply James Sale January 23, 2018 Great sentiments, David – and I like your ambitious use of the alexandrine in the final line of each stanza in Dreams of a Child – now that is Spenserian indeed! Reply David Hollywood January 24, 2018 Dear James, Your response to my poems always makes me feel happy. Your comments are very uplifting and kind. Thank you as I continue like the Cheshire cat, to smile with delight. Reply Wendy Bourke March 21, 2018 I enjoyed both these pieces and thought that they work together, beautifully. Memories of the wonder and innocence – the ‘promise’ – of childhood, are a precious gift – perhaps, a bittersweet gift – for none of us make our way through the days of our lives, without having to endure … and that is something we never could have imagined in the ‘the mirth, Of wondrous adventures’. Reply David Hollywood April 17, 2018 Dear Wendy, Many thanks for your very kind reflections and appreciations Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.