Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 379

For today’s prompt, write a dream poem. So many things happen in our dreams–or, at least, my dreams. Of course, if you don’t have dreams, then write a poem about a dream job, dream relationship, dream vacation, or some other dream situation.


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Here’s my attempt at a Dream poem:

“dream poem”

my psychic told me i was a poet
& when i told my psychologist
he asked me to explain my dream

poem. i had never considered
what my dream poem might be
& told him as much to which

he replied, “how can you write
that which you do not dream?”
& he had a point, i thought,

so i went home & spent all
afternoon trying to figure out
what my dream poem could be:

i thought it should be easy
to write but still give me
a sense of accomplishment

& when i told this to my
poetry support group
they all laughed & said

there’s no accomplishment
without a struggle &
they were right.

so the next day, i saw
my psychic & told him
i had a dream i was

not a poet & then
i asked him to give
my money back.


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He loves to write poems about his dreams.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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105 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 379

  1. taylor graham


    This labyrinth of corridors, a square
    dance of cubicles inside the border
    walls & interlocking overtop a high
    wire act electrifies the grid. Under-
    neath are tubes & pipes & tunnels
    where secrets slip their folders, slide
    away but never disappear. Another
    door, another keyhole. Who dreamed
    this myth, contraption more of mind
    than of material, where we enter
    thinking to restore some broken or
    lost thing we still recall, a simpler
    whole. Is this a dream or is there
    a minotaur to guard the box or is
    the monster just our selves?

  2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    It is Tuesday
    and I am dreaming again
    of walking the dogs with my sister.
    She would scoff
    to know of such silliness.

    We park the cars
    in a dirt clearing and then
    one by one, let the dogs out —
    two old street soldiers
    rottweiler x cow dog mix
    chesapeake retriever
    and a spunky lab x border collie
    young lady

    to run ahead
    along a path and find their way
    to the water awaiting them,
    brackish and pungent against
    some shore reeds, but always
    full of adventuresome geese
    on their way back home,
    bills pointing north.

    The dream sequence
    is always the same —
    parking cars
    running to catch up
    a dark tunnel of trees
    three dogs leaping from bank to water
    geese rising, blotting out the sun
    a strong wind reddening our ears
    wetting our hair with lines of poetry,
    the taste of skunk cabbage in our mouths.

    And then
    there it is,
    the soft rumble of thunder
    in the dark, just beyond

    this waking dream.

    © 2017 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  3. R.W.Wise

    What is a dream?
    Is it a composition of sleep,
    A weary song that seems
    To have meaning, deep,
    But with no clarity of thought,
    A chance encounter of the mind,
    That comes away with nothing wrought,
    A beautiful, confused soliloquy that is declined,
    Because it sadly, after suddenly waking, was forgot.
    Could it be all of these things, weaving together a tapestry,
    Which adorns the fragmented and walled up confines of the head,
    Detailing the hopes and wishes of the weary recipient but leaving despair in its stead,
    Because one can never really know, if the visions being acted out in the mind are a fallacy,
    Or are the cold touches of reality.

  4. Jane Shlensky


    I can see they have gone to the beach,
    as I stand here before them and teach.
    To be fair, there is spring
    in the air and we reach
    for a sliver of sun
    before summer’s begun.
    Now it seems that we’re
    sunburned from daydreams.

    1. ppfautsch24

      The dream has me wanting to sing with you in harmony.
      Skin, race, gender, and religion no matter;
      just want your company.
      With you arguing and sneers of hate;
      Can be put aside with honest debate.
      For people of the world to let freedom ring
      Preached by Dr. Martin Luther King.
      A dream that breathes in reality;
      Can be real and lived in unity.
      Lift your voices, hands, and eyes up to the skies to shout.
      Bigotry, racism, and hate can be trumped, and stumped out.
      The dream marches and wakes still that together we can live.
      Entwined together for all times.
      The realization of The Constitution that we all are created equal;
      Is what we stand on for the solution.
      We could all live the dream that atheists,
      biracial, disabled, Muslim, young and old;
      Can walk the streets, dance, view a movie,
      and pray on any given day.
      And not fear of life being taken away.
      As I tried to take the high road when such drama arose; with the election of President Barack Obama unjust behavior was exposed.
      And now we find ourselves in a quagmire;
      instead of embracing a man we all can admire.
      As his presidency comes to a close with high esteem;
      Yes, I still have the dream.
      By Pamelap

  5. Karen

    A Dream Takes Flight

    Last night I dreamt a dream or two
    a purple dragon serenading the night
    played the ukulele I swear it’s all true
    he even made a snow angel for my delight.

    He got real close with his dragon’s breath
    whispered a secret only I could hear
    he wished that I could be a dragon too
    so I would never be lonely or feel blue—

    and he wouldn’t be the only dragon in school.
    I wished and wished with all my might
    to be a lady dragon of violet hue
    fly by your side and be sung to by you.

    When I awoke at mornings first light
    I was amazed to see a ukulele in sight
    along with a note: “sweetly serenade your lover”
    be amazed at what purple dragons can discover.

  6. DMK

    by Dawn Kvernenes

    read about their being
    two score minus three kinds
    97% my dreams
    are about me
    might be about
    me dealing with you
    might be
    I ate pepperoni before I went to bed or
    took cold medicine for the fluid in my head
    If I am having feelings I don’t want to admit
    or its the problem solver organic computer
    I have enough to dream about without
    dreaming of a problem
    you are concerned about
    you tend to throw rocks, insults or shout
    even when you ask for answers
    you want answers coming from your dreams not mine
    like the man waiting for rescue in a flood scene

    dreams to flush our psyche
    like those from the island lagoon
    I tend to like those; I was not alone
    or of watching the creation of planets, moons or stars
    please sir may I have some more of those.
    not flashbacks of accidents or war
    those things you want answers for but,
    prefer to not talk….
    about any more.

  7. DMK

    on earth as it is in heaven
    by Dawn Kvernenes (dmk)

    on earth as it is in heaven
    is a prayer not a statement of facts
    it is to bring heaven down a seventy times seven
    for in it we can dream of solutions for the lack

    not so beautiful my person, temperment or my face
    I do not seem to dream or have visions of heaven much any more
    anything good here is a drop of heaven grace
    I do not seem to be able to cling to you like I did before

    hard to understand how you can love both sinner and saint
    somehow It is a test; a quest
    a show of character a walk in belief without faint
    have I given it my best?

    when I want to strike back for the stealing attacks
    my soul, mind, heart and spirit
    are bruised, bleeding… black
    take the log out of your eye….deep heavy sigh

    bring heaven to me
    I am becoming a black knight
    a vesil running on empty
    having to make the choice again not to fight

    give me a large slice of your peace
    let your love capture me
    ecclisiastical lease
    right now even my dreams aren’t free

  8. Beth Henary Watson


    Between the wine-induced
    Night waking and the damnable
    Beeping of the alarm,
    My conscious levitates, entertains
    Compromised thoughts closer to
    Dreams than to the wide-eyed
    Reality of 4 a.m.:
    A sense of clocks ready to chime;
    My children’s faces enlarged,
    Swollen like the Hindenburg,
    All baby teeth that bite
    At my guilty heart;
    Loose ends nagging,
    Knocking about in the dark.

  9. grcran

    comprehensive apprehension

    i dreamt i found the debit card of a billionaire
    his hair unkempt his hair spray in the sky
    he asked me where i’d found the card but really
    he did not want the where rather the why
    why found you this? you’re poor yet have no greed
    i asked myself no answer did forthcome
    some folks can sing money can’t buy me love
    for others all they’ll manage is to hum

    gpr crane

  10. Bushkill

    379. Dreams

    When darkness closes around my world
    And dreams compress to shroud my sight,
    When courage leeches from every pore
    To be consumed by fear-soaked night.

    When dragons fight demons on my behalf
    And swords and spells oppose the blight,
    When winds carry ash and smoke and chaff
    And I stand alone to face their might.

    When the upside down goes the other way ’round
    When falling forever thrills to the bone,
    When I’ve lost touch and am no longer well-ground,
    When I can’t move a lick, frozen like stone.

    When the ice god says no with sinister grin
    And I’ve lost all touch with realities vision
    When I snuggle the covers up under my chin
    And find myself lost in a TZ edition.

    I’ll shake myself awake and exit dreamland,
    Rub knotted muscles and catch ragged breath,
    I’ll grab for a water and scrub eyes caked in sand
    Then head back to bed to wrestle with death.

  11. grcran

    Unkempt Attempt

    Came out of it. Fell back, then dreamt
    the house she’d kept was left unkempt
    while chores piled up she snored and slept
    unkempt-er went the house she’d kept.
    And all these things were in one dream
    fine Christmas feast in high esteem
    she’d struggled to control the beast
    a guaranteed fine Christmas feast.
    Her family left the floors were swept
    no weeping now so hard she slept
    return perhaps but cannot vow
    Sweet unkempt dreams no weeping now

    gpr crane

    (note: not happy with the title… comments/suggestions are welcome

  12. DMK

    I do not dream much anymore
    by Dawn Kvernenesthen again I do not sleep much
    my dreams when I have them
    they often come true

    I do not dream anymore

    would be nice to plan
    a beautiful dream or two
    insomnia a thing in the past
    not a lysergic acid brain junky
    which everyone one gets
    being just up for 36 hours
    never did try that from an ingested substance
    Alice doesn’t live here
    so I dream of peaceful sleep
    no flashes of futures or repeated torments
    in flashbacks of horrors living in the past
    however, the flying dreams are fun
    so are the heavenly ones
    perhaps the others are just the
    admission price
    then I might just want my payment back
    maybe why I do not dream much anymore

    dmk 1/12/2017

    1. DMK

      I do not dream anymore
      then again I do not sleep much
      my dreams when I have them
      they often come true
      would be nice to plan
      a beautiful dream or two
      insomnia a thing in the past
      not a letergic acid brain junky
      which everyone one gets
      being just up for 36 hours
      never did try that from an ingested substance
      Alice doesn’t live here
      so I dream of peaceful sleep
      no flashes of futures or repeated torments
      in flashbacks of horrors living in the past
      however, the flying dreams are fun
      so are the heavenly ones
      perhaps the others are just the
      admission price
      then I might just want my payment back
      maybe why I do not dream much anymore

      dmk 1/12/2017

  13. qbit

    Because bulldozers do that –
    They slice off the tap root
    At ground level
    As they smash aside
    The trunk and branches.

    But sometimes the root
    Continues on,
    Struggles to push deeper
    Into dirt, water, darkness.
    In confusion it tries
    Passing its gifts upward
    To phantom limbs.

    No matter that something new
    And maybe beautiful
    Will arise in place. That
    Even deeper roots
    May eventually delve
    And sustain.

    What grew for years
    Knows only its loss —
    There is nothing left
    To feed with dreams.

  14. lsteadly

    Robert, I love your poem! And this is truly what I dreamt last night:

    Dream Twists

    Something (important, I think) hung
    caught up high in the tree
    and I watched you carry
    a very long but ridiculously light
    wooden ladder over to said tree,
    positioning it just so
    it wouldn’t rock or slide out
    of place, then you climb up
    with ease even though you
    hold an equally long roof rake
    in your right hand, as if
    that was going to grab
    whatever it was in that tree
    but before you reach it
    I watch in horror as the ladder
    tilts back toward me and
    the curb and everything is in
    slow motion but still too fast
    to stop and you hit the pavement
    so hard I hear your back
    break over my screams and as I
    frantically punch 911 on my touch screen
    all I can see are old text messages
    in bright green bubbles that make no sense
    and because this is a dream
    the events get so twisted and
    you should be lying dead or un-
    responsive but no, you sit up
    and tell me it’s okay, you’re fine
    actually, only you’re sorry you broke
    my only good ladder

    1. tripoet

      I read your piece and smiled. While driving on a large parkway in my town yesterday a man literally jumped out of a sizable tree. It was surreal. I couldn’t stop as traffic was heavy. I think that it was fun to see your poem “write” you a poem. What fun.

  15. angieinspired

    Accurate : January 12

    The Christmas tree which the trash man refuses
    to pick up is really starting to piss me off!
    As is one of my broken kitchen drawers.

    Harold, my former casting director, is drunk
    or at least tipsy … his blurry eyes size me
    up for the contemptible role of Cinderella.

    Harold and his Duchess Barbara may take up
    residency in the house at the end of my
    cul-de-sac, which just went up on the market.

    I’ve trespassed undetected in the living area
    to have a look-see at the gorgeous rock work,
    the vaulted ceilings, beams, and lamp lights.

    The dreamy landscaped backyard, Barbara can’t
    even put into words for me as we talk on the porch.
    I have tucked trash items beneath my crossed arms.

    I act … as if it’s perfectly normal to conceal
    detritus … to wear liberated short-shorts
    and Converse shoes which help me hop away

    In ten feet high bounds in the hopes of landing
    in the eruption of one of their yard sprinklers …
    but buoyed is not written in the script for me,

    So I schlepp off two houses … down … down
    to mine, only to find that the old dream house
    owners strew all their throw-aways on my lawn.

    Old soiled carpet, a broken-down baby
    crib, and other psychological shrapnel
    now block me from leaving my track home.

    In the corner of my drive is that damned
    Christmas tree still standing a little too
    indecently. I look for a prince, or a hacksaw.

  16. deringer1


    do not love the past
    the real is only pretend
    life itself a dream

    you stayed for awhile
    I prayed that you would be mine
    that too was a dream
    when I woke from you and life
    I knew the long night had come

    beautiful mountains
    inspiring me from afar
    up close they’re but rock

    there is nothing real
    only a movie that plays
    on throughout my days
    a boring repetition
    I’m waiting for the credits

  17. tripoet

    Dream Walking

    I dreamed I had a dream.
    And when I didn’t wake,
    I realised I wasn’t dreaming.

    I negotiated life awake,
    all the time hoping
    for a time to fall asleep again.

    And now I understand
    dreams are only meant
    to leave us
    for what can never be.

  18. seingraham


    Lately, I dream every night
    I know because I wake exhausted
    But I rarely remember anything
    Only that I am not rested
    At all

    Sometimes, if I wake suddenly
    Not easing into the day which
    is my usual mode
    There are fragments of the dream
    lingering in my mind

    And I’ll get a glimpse or two
    Sometimes they make sense
    I see one of my grandsons giggling
    over his shoulder at me, just the
    way I remember him.

    Sometimes the brief memory
    is surreal – an owl, the size of a lion
    upside down on my lawn
    Just there and gone – and I wake
    wondering what that was about.

    I used to say I liked dreaming
    and that I remembered my dreams.
    I used to, but now? Not so much.

    1. Bushkill

      Poignant. Those moments when our world tilts seem so surreal. I really like the word “hovered” and how you used it, almost dreamlike in its meaning. Maybe slight control implied, if the tangle of conscious and not would allow it.

  19. Sara McNulty

    World of Sand

    Sand covered ground,
    maze of buildings,
    hazy sky unsure
    of weather. I work
    somewhere in this area.
    Coming back from lunch,
    streets strike an unfamiliar
    chord. Construction hammers
    bang, drills shake foundation.
    I am lost. Which building
    is mine? How did I get turned
    around? I will be late. Heart
    pounds, drops of sweat run
    down my neck. Everything
    is covered in sand. Every
    building is incomplete. My feet

    1. Bushkill

      I am going to agree with the unfamiliar familiar and I am also quite fond of your use of unfamiliar chord and LOVE that you used chord to start the next line. Brilliant dissonance with that move.

  20. Amaria

    “at night do you still dream?”

    at night do you still dream about me
    or has memories begin to fade?
    a love once strong now lost at sea
    at night do you still dream about me?
    did someone new made those thoughts flee?
    I ask, but truthfully, I’m afraid
    at night do you still dream about me
    or has memories begin to fade?

    by Arcadia Maria 1/11/17

  21. uvr

    Tremulously, a
    dream clings
    to lashes, waiting
    for the embrace
    of eyes seeking
    a respite from
    the darkness

    For in dreams
    days take on
    the brightness of hope
    nights absorb
    the soothing peace
    until sleep’s comforting
    blanket is rolled up
    to reveal reality

  22. Domino


    fists clenched
    heart’s patter
    strangled breaths
    blood spatter
    shake me, wake me
    truth reveal
    too painful
    can’t conceal
    why me? why now?
    what and where and when and how?
    try to focus
    not a dream
    my worthy prize
    last gasp
    heart shivers
    baby’s cries
    tears in rivers
    holding this
    my blessed child
    filled with bliss
    love beguiled
    am I dreaming?
    is this real?
    can this love
    my heart conceal?

    golden prize
    life begins
    sorrow dies

  23. headintheclouds87

    Dreaming in Grey

    I’d long to tell you thrilling tales
    Of adventures laced with danger,
    Full of magic and ferocious dragons,
    But it may disappoint you to learn
    That my dreams more often come
    In a rather mundane flavour instead.

    They star the same old faces
    That I see while still awake,
    Just cast into different roles
    And thrust to other places,
    Merely a tedious rearranging
    Of my daily hours in reality.

    Even my so-called nightmares
    Are simply petty material concerns,
    The looming terror of late payments
    And long-crippling stresses
    That mutate into lurking spiders
    Just waiting to leap at my sleeping face.

    Maybe as a child my dreams were made
    Of much more exciting things than this,
    Now I’m grown, they simply reaffirm
    My fears so wretchedly ordinary,
    But I still faintly hope that one night,
    Sleep will show me wild fantasies again.

  24. carolemt87

    Robert…your poem rings true! My poem was a dream written down as soon as I woke up, on the edge of sleep, at the brink of nowhere in particular….enjoy!


    If you woke up one morning
    and the floor fell away.

    If the world spun backwards,
    gold changed to black, orange to blue;
    a finger tapped your shoulder and a
    bright light pierced the dark space
    beside your head.

    If you fell slowly, spinning a web
    of silver spindles from your hair
    and your fingertips drew red
    spirals along the sides of a
    brown tunnel.

    If, at the end, after drifting
    down days into the nothingness,
    you landed on a white linen pillow
    in a sunlit garden, ablaze with jasmine
    and juniper, where a purple fairy

    who spoke only French asked
    you to dance between the wild plums
    and red willows, while green and yellow
    finches flittered through freckled ferns
    and tall sedge at the edge
    of a frog clotted marsh.

    Carol Carpenter

  25. PowerUnit

    Without dreams we are empty hulls, shells
    of humanity, the stripping away of the body
    to live our true reality.

    Seeing ourselves from the top side of a magnifier,
    picking up the specimen, squeezing its girth,
    turning it over, seeing what happens
    when you throw it against a brick wall,
    what it’s really worth.

    Nobody wants to see who they really are,
    but we can’t lock ourselves in,
    cannot change the channel and watch, mindless shows.
    The day we discover the remote control for our dreams
    is the day of never-ending screams.

  26. Connie Peters

    Dreaming of Charlie

    Growing up, outside our house,
    across from the turn-around-spot
    stood a massive oak.
    We named it Charlie.

    Whenever visitors left,
    we reminded them
    as they backed out
    to not hit Charlie.

    The other night, I dreamed
    that while visiting my parents
    I ran into Charlie. It split
    right down the middle.

    At first, I took a piece
    to take back home with me
    as a souvenir, and then
    the whole thing fell down.

    I felt embarrassed
    that after telling everyone
    to not hit Charlie,
    I hit Charlie.

  27. taylor graham


    What’s down there, you wondered.
    A road-sign on the winding chipseal grade
    to Grizzly Flats: Rocky Bar.
    Always dreaming of what’s just out of sight.
    We parked, let our search dogs
    sniff around as we headed down the gravel
    track – to find out what’s out of sight.
    It was raining. Cold steady December
    at the verge of sleet. What’s weather to a pair
    of seekers wondering what lies
    around the next bend, just out of sight?
    We trudged down, getting wetter.
    At the bridge, the Middle Fork at flood stage,
    our dogs churned mud-angels
    at the edge of water raging out of sight.
    And the other side, we wondered?
    Slug Gulch. We headed up the gravel track.
    Still raining. Around one bend and
    then the next. The far ridgetop – out of sight.
    December 1996, winter of the floods,
    we found Rocky Bar, and Slug Gulch from
    the river’s side. And rain – each
    drop crystal-cold, shivering our sight.

  28. GraziaAdagio

    I sit alone at home,
    I sit alone in my car,
    I sit alone at work.
    My phone sits next to me-
    a screen the color of pitch.
    It tells me I have no messages,
    no friends asking for my company.

    A closetful of dresses perfectly still,
    a fridge full of goodies for friends-
    who couldn’t make it.

    I sit alone on the steps outside
    nothing but the cool windy air-
    to hug me tight.

    Hundreds of friends I have online,
    not one to keep me company.
    I stare at the night sky and dream,
    dream of old times.

      1. Karen

        I am at peace with the stars
        Ethereal exists is each of us
        Venus is at peace with Mars
        Mars is at peace with Venus

        Jupiter in the plum sky
        giving earth a high five


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