Hey. You! Yeah! You.
Move. Take a step.
Take a chance. Move.
Buy a new pair
of dancing shoes.
Find a different
groove. Don’t be
afraid to lose.
When you play,
pay your dues.
Move. It’s much
better when you
get to choose.
Keep on dancing
for your love is
everlasting. Move.
There is nothing
for you to prove.
Today, I got carried away.
Instead of work, I play.
Sometimes I forget to live
without stress. The older
I get, the shorter the days.
Today, I got carried away
from what I was doing.
Half the time, I don’t know
which direction to go.
The other half of the time,
I don’t know if I should
go outside or stay in
and hide. These long legs
carry me away. One point
to the next. Feeling blessed
in my chest, I hold my head
high. I look to the sky. I see
wings carry birds away.
I feel the wind chill my skin.
I can count on my days
getting carried away.
My mind might stray, yet
my body will stay. Blue
skies littered with birds
help me find the words
needed to carry me away.
I look ahead and know that
one day, blues fade to black.
For many years, people have been
searching for treasure somewhere
under the sea. Many have tried
to dive to the bottom and died
with gold shining in both eyes.
The treasure has made men mad
and has turned good men bad.
The treasure remains untouched.
No man or woman has found
this underwater town housing
treasure causing false pleasure.
Not until many years later,
when there was a sailor
who traveled as he pleased
and watched over the seas.
Now and again, he casted a pole
in hopes to catch enough food
to eat. One day, he casted a pole,
and he felt a tug. He pulled up
the line, and he knew he found
the lost treasure he only heard
about. Without making a sound,
the sailor traveled into the mist
with the treasure he just found.
The discovery was never known
as the sailor never made it home.
He was observed: made from scratch.
He was seen scratching away
at the surface: the stubborn dirt.
He scratched long into the day.
He wanted to reach the hurt.
Not before long, the day was gone.
He found nothing here, so he
scratched there. He couldn’t see
as he scratched deep into the night.
The sun came up, and he looked
down and said: “I can make some-
thing from all the stuff I found.”
Tired and dirty, he walked home
with stuff that can never be shown.
He was happy to have dug below
the surface: a place only he knows.
All work and no play makes Jack
a dough boy, but a dull one at that.
With no time to play, Jack will still
talk shop on the way to the shop.
Jack plays no games. Jack came,
he saw, and he worked. The same
thing everyday. Jack forgot how to
play. Nevertheless, he does his best
to work harder than the rest. Yes,
Jack has lost his way. He forgot
who he was but also remembered
that he must get back to work.
Jack doesn’t have time to think.
For that, he is a very dull boy
who doesn’t feel very much joy.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 