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The strangest dream
There hangs a skillfully carved
Crescent of a moon upon
A silver string that is tied off
Somewhere beyond that place
Where wretched reality stops and
The essence of a dream begins
Where the invisible forms
Of wistful giants stroll around the
Vibrant center of the universe
The moon floats in a
Frozen lake of solitude
Like a crystal eye that keeps
Vigil before the darkness
Its chalky face is glistening
Not marred like ours
Save for the etchings of words
That were spoken at the moment
When the somber director signaled
For time to begin
Cynical crows laugh sardonically
And fly at the atmosphere
And bicentennial trees reach down
Half-heartedly with their roots
And hooded spirits pace through
Fields of paper flowers
And what's left of life drips
Slowly into an endless chasm
There is a forgotten station
That is fading away
Bombarded by celestially tragic
Drops of rain
It sends off weeping trains that
Leave red petals in their wake
Each one disappearing into
That unreachable horizon
From a good walking distance
Away from that world
It has a mien that resembles
Sadly true philosophy
For although a circle of dreams
Is the most beautiful
It can even bring a crystal tear
To the sober seraph's eye
For places like this place
For dreams like this dream
It is with regret and
With a retired sigh
That one must give
His heartfelt goodbye
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This article has 50 comments.
Ah, yes. That's true with a lot of the people and writers I know.
It's a pity, however, that most poet geniuses (Walt Whitman and Robert Frost) are extremely egotistical.
The strangest dream-related thing just happened to me:
Last night, I had a dream which included my guitar teacher, and he had shaved his beard (his beard is great, similar to that of Iron and Wine). About an hour ago (fully awake), I went to a lesson with him, looking forward to seeing him bearded again. But, to my astonishment, he had shaved his beard! Was I spending my time in a music room, or was I in fact in... The Twilight Zone?!?!?
Yeah, it was a nice dream. :)
In my dream, her dad was the butcher.
In reality, I have no idea what her dad does. (I should ask her that...)
It totally feels like reality is altered but the thing is that that dream replicates stuff in real life.
For example, in my dream, I saw him playing soccer with his friends. And that's what he really likes to do in real life.
I had a dream today.
First I was in Paris with my family and we were in this Arab neighborhood I've been to in real life.
Then I walked into a butcher shop where I saw my friend Icky(that's not her real name just a affectionate nickname) and we hugged and talked and made fun of each other just like we would have in normal life.
Then we were in a place I had no idea where it. My dad was playing soccer and I saw my corazon(I think you know who I am talking about) and I followed him until the dream ended.
The strange thing about my dream is that it resembled real life so very, very well. I actually forgot that it was not a dream(because you are usually somewhat aware that it is not real)
Really? I didn't know it was that powerful.
I've really enjoyed your comments, and I'm off to read more of your work. :)
This comment just came through, for some reason.
Usually, I have very odd and obscure dreams; rarely do I remember them in the morning. This was one of those lucky exceptions.
This is so beautiful.
It makes me soul hungry.
Gîl síla na lû govaded.
Le hannon.
75 articles 16 photos 1136 comments
Favorite Quote:
I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. <br /> - Maya Angelou <br /> When i was little/I used to point a chubby finger toward the dark sky/And ask my father/why some stars moved and others didn’t/He would laugh and explain that some were airplanes/I still wish on them today ~ Laugh-It-Out<br /> The feathers of a crow are black/The ink of my pen is blacker/The pain of my heart is blackest~ Mckay<br /> If love produced a blossom/I’d take it in my palm/What a blessing, the bright color!/How soothing, such a balm!/I’d keep a petal for my own/The rest, drop from my hands/For such a flower would multiply/And populate the lands~ thesilentraven<br /> And I began to rival legends/Long entombed before my birth./But for all my much envied fame/The lust for more would not abate./The plaques and prizes with my name/Will, like all things, disintegrate. ~ TheEpic95 now known as Helena_Noel