Treasure Island

John Thorkild Ellison

(17/04/51 / Edinburgh)

A Fantasy


I wandered in a dream
And heard bluebells chime by the water,
Saw unicorns drink from the stream
And heard wild, whirling elvish laughter.

I realized things are not what they seem,
That little boys worship the river's daughter,
That angels grunt and butterflies scream
While good men go like lambs to the slaughter.

It was only a silly dream
But it has haunted me ever after,
When lights burn low and candles gleam,
When graveyards groan and their corpses mutter.

Submitted: Friday, April 27, 2007
Edited: Saturday, February 19, 2011

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  • Pamela Lutwyche (10/12/2008 10:40:00 AM)

    I have dreams that seem so real. Now, I wrote a story but, it is far too long so, I changed it in to a poem and put it on this site. It’s called balloon lady. Please check it out if you will and tell what you think. Oh, and if you like fantasy have a look at, I went to a ball.
    I like the opening. I heard bluebell chime magic.10 for you from me! ! ! (Report) Reply

  • Frank Bana (1/16/2008 3:43:00 PM)

    Beautiful and fluent.. and who is say, what is reality, and what is illusion? !
    Many thanks John. (Report) Reply

  • Ivor Hogg (11/18/2007 3:28:00 PM)

    This is my kind of poetry Fantasy is preferable to reality at least some of he time (Report) Reply

  • Raynette Eitel (5/6/2007 11:53:00 AM)

    This is a gem, John...and the second stanza simply glows with literary craft and metaphors. Nice job. Keep dreaming (and share.)

    Raynette (Report) Reply

  • Michael Pacholski (5/4/2007 3:46:00 AM)

    Your second verse made me think of Yeats with the witches and the rituals ('Easter: 1916' in particular) . That's a good thing. I thought the last line was a tad on the 'purple' side but otherwise this is a fine poem. (Report) Reply

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