Terry William's Dream World Poetry


My Love...
I sail into the Sea
Of a lover's poetry,
And see your face in the sky.
I am filled with wishes
To give you kisses,
And voyage into your eyes.

published in The Poetic Knight (Columbiana, OH. May, 1993, no.7).


I was tired and thirsty while crossing a desert land,
When an inner voice spoke and said: "Place your ear to the sand."
Listening to the ground, I was able to see
Mighty underground rivers, rushing on endlessly.
The sight of the waterways absorbed my Being,
Into a cool flowing sea of shimmering green.
Protected by the casement of a deep rock mine,
Was an ever-flowing source of each and all life.
I flew back to the surface, out of the depths of green,
Vigorously trying to fathom the knowledge I had seen.
The mighty rivers penetrating the Earth to its end,
Were the combined efforts of the 'friends of the Friend.'
Just as the continuity of water can't be broken,
So the meaning of their lives can't openly be spoken.
The friends are people not usually seen,
Like the underground rivers flowing beneath our feet.
Their Great Work is the love of the Source.
It flows on forever in its eternal course.


Every Age, every Era, has a theme that we can know.
The one we are living in is called: "Anything Goes."
We live in a synthetic and accelerated time,
Which generates every conceivable form of crime.
Many lives are lost in mass extinctions,
While we create illusions of human distinction.
The ancient Tower of Babel, with all its knowledge,
Cannot compare today with a year in college.
Yes, the Tower of old was truly a World Wonder,
Yet, compares as nothing to our present mental plunder.
It's as if all doors to imagination have been thrown open.
Any idea can find a home and a perfect spokesman.
So, Anything Goes, the true with the false,
All mixed up in a stuttering waltz.
But Fate has a more meaningful intention,
Something far greater than the confusion we mention.
For, if Anything Goes, then so does the Secret.
It is openly available to those who seek it.

published in Mind Matters Review San Francisco, CA. Spring/Summer 1993, vol. 16).


The ancient peoples who lived long, long ago,
What did they see, what did they know?
At Karnak we gaze at the columns of their religion,
But do we penetrate the meaning of their mission?
Unearthing their treasures, we plunder their temples,
Collecting their gold, but throwing away their valuables.
We are missing the link, have lost the connection
With the sense of Being they loved with great affection.
We modern times people live in spiritual isolation,
And turn on the electricity to capture our fascination.
We proclaim that everything old is bound to be inferior,
Not knowing, not seeing that the Ancients sensed a life interior.
Within this delicate form of the body of humankind
There is a three tiered world visible only to the mind.
Blind to the outer noise and the rush for gold,
The Ancients retreated within, seeking the world of the Soul.
Returning with a vision of the wondrous world Eternal,
They cast gigantic stones into monuments supernal.


One day I reached the bottom of human feeling,
Empty and low, with no sense of meaning.
The varied colors of human life were wanting,
And fear set in as if a ghost were haunting.
I wanted to set out, go exploring,
To find the unknown, no longer ignoring.
I dreamed a favorite of flying with the birds,
With wingtip to friends, my companions without words.
We flew the night path, over channel and ocean,
While blue wavelets arose, singing their devotions.
Onward we flew to our own destination,
Our home, our place, in the glory of Nature.
Thrilling with joy in the life of that flight,
New hope and new meaning opened my sight.
All living things share a common flow,
Whether human high, or creature low.


If you're in the World of Symbols,
Try - by all means - to keep it simple.
Complexity comes soon enough,
And starting at the ending makes it tough.
By rubbing two sticks, you can make a fire.
By placing two lines, to Heaven you can aspire.
Then, if all this be true,
Just think what you can do,
With twenty six letters
And a little time in School!


Across the Dream World Bridge I flew,
To a land bright, shiny, and new.
I wandered into a forest so enchanting,
Possessed by joy, I began whirling and dancing.
Dizzy-spinning further into the forest deep,
I lay down under the Oak Tree and fell fast asleep.
I dreamed of the forest all painted with light,
Watercolor skies and wild birds in flight.
Never before was I so aware,
That I was dreaming that I was there.
I wondered how it could possibly be,
That I was asleep and still could be me.

published in The Poetic Knight (Columbiana, OH. May, 1993, no.7).


Gather ye round! O lovers of the Ancient Creed,
To hear a tale of the White Knight and his valiant steed.
A time when fairies and sylphs and undines and gnomes
Were friendly and watchful and lived in men's homes.
And the Knight's heart was fired by love of his Lord,
As he went down to battle to win the golden hoard.
And his Lord bade him to seek the Holy Grail,
and in a fierce temptation the mission he did fail.
The Grail was too high, a goal fit for Kings,
The Knight was defeated by lowly Woman's sting.
And in the terror and loss of his manlihood,
He turned to his faithful charger to find the Good.
Up, up they flew in this new quest,
The noble horse's heart pounded furiously in his chest.
At the top of a mountain, at the foot of the Sky,
They arrived at a castle named 'You Must Die.'
He discovered his pretension and envied no more,
And threw away his gold and much, much more.
Free from the ballast of life's illusions,
The Victor entered the castle to die in seclusion.
Submitting to God and free of malice,
He entered the high tower and beheld the Silver Chalice.
No magicians, no dragons, not even a princess was there,
Only himself, his mind, his heart, and his cares.
The chalice was filled with the blood of his strife.
He drank freely, then died, and received new life.
The story goes on and on from there,
Except our White Knight is now everywhere.
He protects us by day, and guides us by night.
What more can we expect from such a great Knight?

published in The Poetic Knight (Columbiana, OH. May, 1993, no.7).


It is us, and there we sit...
And that, in a nutshell, seems the end of it.
No questions put forth that I cannot answer,
No enemies slain, that I am not the conqueror.
I move quickly, before you see a spark,
You think you are me, and then you miss the mark.
I know you because I know myself,
Even more than you think you know yourself.
I will tell you out of frank generosity,
There is no hope in your intellectual ferocity.
You haven't the power to overcome my wiles,
I've had you since an infant, as an innocent child.
You've relied on me to create your life,
And I'll tell you a truth, my motive is strife.
If you don't believe me, then look at life again,
Try to find happiness without the effects of pain.
And if you look once more, you'll definitely see,
That everyone is arguing, all because of me.
I see myself because I see the Higher.
I know the Truth, because I know I'm the Liar.
So there you have the bottom and the top.
When you're done with me, it's no time to stop.
There's much more to see on the Light Path to the Sun,
And to overcome the Ego is a job that must be done.


Can you imagine
Anything as odd,
Anything as illogical as
A religion without God?
Why, nothing like this
Could possibly exist!, you say.
But consider, if you may,
Science is the religion of the day.
And if criteria fit, and parameters are set,
Then this unimaginable oddity
Will undoubtedly beget
An even odder commodity.
Perhaps we'll name it - "Technology."


We have the new Science
To guide our minds.
One partcile after another
We seek to find.
We look for the Solution,
For an ultimate Answer,
In billiard ball collisions
And cascades of matter.


People think that God is dumb.
And this is what Science has done.
Man, the child of Heaven and Earth,
Is still a child,
Who for ages has asked God, through the Church,
How things are, how things work.
Then God gave Science to Man, in response to his request.
This Science, this wondrous gem,
Is now substitute-God in the minds of men.
The Church is now empty, abandoned by all,
Who flock to chemistry lectures to see the atoms fall,
All the time in childish revelry,
In the feeling of self-important discovery,
He is still a child.
Now Man begins to mistrust Science, feeling real dread,
But for the right reason?
Or because he's fouling his bed?


He bare-boned my poem without a fret,
With due process and with no regret.
He singled out a word that chummed up a meaning
That felt odd for him, not knowing my feeling.
I counted the words and wanted to pare,
Desiring to sit in the lofty Poet's chair.
I tightened and straightened and put out of sight
Many loose gambles with words that weren't right.
In the end my ditty had an edge of steel,
It passed the Censor, but did I say what I feel?

published Feelings Magazine (Easton, PA. Summer, 1993, vol.4, no. 4).


Does a broken heart mend itself,
Like wounds and bones, the stock of a doctor's trade?
Or is there a healing elixir, unknown to me,
Hidden in a witch's secret cave?
Will a devil do business with me,
And trade me love for pain?
If not, do I have the color of money,
Or the taste a witch would crave?
Phantom loves lost, hearing angry egos crying,
Is mirth to the witches and devils.
For in the remains of broken hearts,
They find their romp and revel.

published in Feelings Magazine (Easton, PA. Spring, 1993, vol.4, no. 3).

Note: ALL POEMS COPYRIGHT 1992 TERRY W. WILLIAMS and sent to me to add to the Poetry Park. Enjoy! :-)

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