Critics Please!!! This poem was writen from a mother who put her daughter up for

Question:I had a dream, But where did it come from, what did it mean?
I was lost, I was confused, Could it be me?
I was stuck in the rain, felt so much pain.
I heard someone, someone so faint
What were they saying? Were they calling my name?
I started shouting back, What was I saying? What was I feeling?

Walking towards the voice, walking so hard, walking so fast my heart is pounding, I take a deep breath!!!
The pain feels real, the rain feels wet, I began to run, I began to sweat, I fall to my knees, I am there at last, I see a little girl, she looks familiar from my past, She says I miss you, I say how could that be? She says I love you, don’t you remember me? I look at her face and realize it to be, The daughter I once knew the blood of my father, my mother, and me.
A single tear falls down my face, then I began to cry, I wanted to see her, I want to believe that one day It wont be a memory wont be a dream, But a reality I can touch, feel, & see.

Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: I had a dream, But where did it come from, what did it mean?
I was lost, I was confused, Could it be me?
I was stuck in the rain, felt so much pain.
I heard someone, someone so faint
What were they saying? Were they calling my name?
I started shouting back, What was I saying? What was I feeling?

Walking towards the voice, walking so hard, walking so fast my heart is pounding, I take a deep breath!!!
The pain feels real, the rain feels wet, I began to run, I began to sweat, I fall to my knees, I am there at last, I see a little girl, she looks familiar from my past, She says I miss you, I say how could that be? She says I love you, don’t you remember me? I look at her face and realize it to be, The daughter I once knew the blood of my father, my mother, and me.
A single tear falls down my face, then I began to cry, I wanted to see her, I want to believe that one day It wont be a memory wont be a dream, But a reality I can touch, feel, & see.

No, mothers don't forget. My husband was adopted, and just last year he found his biological family. His mom had regretted giving him up all these years, but felt powerless against the system that kept them apart. So finally now (she's 70) they have a relationship, and he now has a strong extended family (the extended family of his adoptive mother was fractured, and he has no adoptive father.)

However, this sounds more like the direct relay of a dream than it does poetry. I'm not saying the subject can't BE poetry -- any subject can be poetry! -- it's all in painting pictures with the words. In other words: show, don't tell.

i think it's beautiful. i also think it is your body and heart telling you something.

that is the best i love it who dud it?

Well it got out what you needed which, if it was its purpose, is great. But it is a terrible read. Sorry but it should not be shared with others, it should be flushed away.

I have found that about 1 percent of the poems I write are worthy of being read by others, the rest get flushed away, though I am usually quite glad I wrote them.

Wow! I ? it! I was adopted and its comforting that mother's don't forget.

that is very good,i like it :]

i've got chills. I've had a similar dream, but from the daughter's perspective. Could it be? I know I am someone's reality.