This is a dream by the way: I have read that nakedness means shame or freedom, but I think it's shame. Though I have lots of dreams where my male parts are exposed, yet women act like they don't see them, but this is different. My Mom took me somewhere where there were different buildings and I was led to believe I was taken to an engineer, but when I found out it was a psychiatrist I wend rampant looking through books that looked like telephone directories looking for a lawyer to find that even if I could find one the numbers were 4 digits (meaning links) and couldn't find one in time.
People don't seem to be taking any notice of you. They seem to be making up their own minds about what is 'wrong' with you. They need to take you seriously and you must stick to your story. Perhaps you need to find support from someone you trust.
Example: Whats a good poem for 10 points..?
whats a poem that talks about life.? 10 points for the best one.
A Poem Invisible
While reading these words so posted
my mind drifts to another poem,
a poem invisible but buried beneath
these words that actually seem right.
Some may say it’s but a daydream
that a mind would wander from
such an engrossing tale so printed
but then, isn’t that the idea?
For a poet that knows way words wend
will often leave a simple story above
while daring a reader to really see
what he, the poet, actually said
buried beneath in metaphor’s land,
a land so rich and so rewarding to those
who dare daydream of other meanings
that lie beneath the surface tale- so told.
I took a walk tonight and I noticed how the suburbs are so quite while so much is going on and it kinda is the same way even when it is at it's busiest. I think of that quote "it's quite it's too quite".
Because with all the hustle the suburbs are as vulnerable just like every other place. Then I noticed how my neighborhood although huge to me it was minuscule to the rest of the planet let alone the country. And that there are more than 6 billion people in the world and if we were guesstimating we could find that just under a billion of those people are: hateful, abusive, psychotic or in some way shape or form can be considered a person who doesn't give a crap about other humans. And just to think that one or multiple people of this kind might live near you without a trace of alarm. I know we don't think about it but that's what makes it ominous. We have those people and then we have nearly half of the population who may be good people but all they want to do is live their lives and no care of making the world a better place.
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
Whats this poem about?
Whats significant about the title?
2 Literary devices used in the poem?