My fantasies now dull,
I read non-fiction for spice-
Life told fantastic.
Painting by By Pieter Fris, 1650 (Sotheby's) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Monday, March 6, 2017
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Seeing the forest for the fantasy
I have watched like an arrested witness,
I have observed, from inside the bubble,
silenced from interruptions,
the echoes of my thoughts reverberating,
muffled and bouncing, hollow all around me.
A slip, a fall, down a tumultuous trail that unwinds,
sucked through a straw of destiny's tube.
If you can conceive it-
you should believe in burst bubbles,
suspended amid weightless fantasy
land, ushered by passing spires,
reality-threatening a poke
around the rocky fables.
Wishes evaporate into splashes,
hope heavy plummets,
hydrogen bound heavy,
drowning in carbonic dead wait-
Oh, if you could see the view-
if you only knew...
Up the boughed birch the searcher barks,
mocking today while dangled legs,
pins pricking shins begins,
Dreams fall as rain in bulging bursts
drop-
lets,
where mystic wishes, with thin traces leave wisps and wishes,
elements evaporating before my eyes,
rolling on and back.
Walking on wine,
Turning truths into tales,
Deep, in the fabled forests of immaculate youth.
I have observed, from inside the bubble,
silenced from interruptions,
the echoes of my thoughts reverberating,
muffled and bouncing, hollow all around me.
A slip, a fall, down a tumultuous trail that unwinds,
sucked through a straw of destiny's tube.
If you can conceive it-
you should believe in burst bubbles,
suspended amid weightless fantasy
land, ushered by passing spires,
reality-threatening a poke
around the rocky fables.
Wishes evaporate into splashes,
hope heavy plummets,
hydrogen bound heavy,
drowning in carbonic dead wait-
Oh, if you could see the view-
if you only knew...
Up the boughed birch the searcher barks,
mocking today while dangled legs,
pins pricking shins begins,
Dreams fall as rain in bulging bursts
drop-
lets,
where mystic wishes, with thin traces leave wisps and wishes,
elements evaporating before my eyes,
rolling on and back.
Walking on wine,
Turning truths into tales,
Deep, in the fabled forests of immaculate youth.
Composed 6/7/15.
Image By Ida Rentoul Outhwaite (From: 'The Enchanted Forest', 1921) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Waterfall Fairy, from 'The Enchanted Forest', 1921.
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