A Dream Not Fulfilled

A Dream Not Fulfilled sonnet poems

Photo by Marchangelo

Lonely nights came by ,
Dark nights passed by,
One night dream couldn’t last long,
One moment there and then you see blur.

Martin Luther King Jr had a dream but it’s not fulfilled.
I had my dreams but it’s yet not fulfilled,
Myth is what I see daily
My eyes see blur

I will arise and make a move
Don’t you try to move
Our dreams are crashed before we see them.
Let us live by them

Dreams not fulfilled bother my soul
Dreams are the heart beat of my soul

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Gift Ashley Koketso

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
Am an young ambitious south African poet ,I express my tellings through my writing and am schooling
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Flickering Dream

Flickering Dream short poem

It was your integrity at the time of ubiquitous pain of separation, you want to move the home away from home coming to terms with the trauma your shadow was not following you playing dead nuzzling the earth, racing to

Away From My Fears Is The Day I Dream

Away From My Fears Is The Day I Dream long poem

“Away from my fears is the day I dream, a place where eternal happiness awaits for me. Where no pains exist, no one could hurt me. I could breathe the way I want without losing my identity. A place so

Not That Type Of Poem

Not That Type Of Poem long poem

Sorry death But I’m going to cheat on you With life that is She’s too beautiful With her crisp fresh air days And her sun filled rays In this poem This girl lives for another day I finally wake up

I Fear Not

I Fear Not short poem

As I leave this world, I worry not. I’ll simply move on to the next. I’ve been to many places will be to many more. What we see is not all there is. Realms upon realms there truly be. Existence

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the