Remains of a Dream

He awakened, with thoughts of his dog, thoughts of his god,

Encircled in the fog

Of the remains of a dream.


Things are not what they seem,

The answers they so often spun,

His mind on the run.


Imagining thoughts as they weren’t,

Were not there,

Would not share.


Without care,

Thoughts spun,

Mind on the run.


From jailed thoughts spinning,

Web of thoughts done,

Like that silky web of dew’s mist,

Shining in the sun.


Hand-crafted poetry by John Hines, 8/1/2015

Written upon awakening from a summer nap…

Empyreal Refrain

Empyreal refrain

Repeats in his brain,

“I’m a writer now”.


Words explode the night,

In dreams

Of sequenced thought.



Write now.

Write now.


Time to write,

Right now.

Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow!


Empyreal refrain,

Trains the brain,

To think in lines of three.


Sonetts, Triolets,

And Villanelles,

Standard forms of poetry remain.


Empyreal refrain,

Let the beauty out.

Soul shout, soul shout.

Let the beauty out.





Bibliophile’s Penurious Peril

Following his thoughts through the sinewy sap that was his mind’s eye,

As penurious whispers whispered,

“Shut the whole thing down”.


Short-sighted they said,

Unseen truths he sighted,

On the sunrise horizon of literary bliss.


Horizons of thought unleashed,

Springing forth in fountainous glory,

Release, release, release.


Sinewy sap of thought turns sweet,

Flows like warm syrup,

Melting like butter the sad thoughts of the day.


Walking through aisles of a bookstore,

Aisles of possibility,

Thirsts for knowledge seeking to be quenched.


Awakened hunger causing soul to salivate,

A craving deep,

A craving sound.


Hear that? Listen.

Sound of the soul whispers,

Guiding one to the words that enliven

And awaken a soul that listens.