I love my fantasies.
Golden ships on purple seas.
And feathered flock
Of vivid green,
Emerging from the waterfall
Of a spent cloud
Unseen.
Mystery voices
That call out names
In space.
Now in flames,
Love lost without a trace.
Barking at the moon
After the sun had bowed,
Brilliantly lighting
A day in june
With that yellow scent.
As miracles came and went.
Humming that ethereal tune
Mother nature penned.
May starshine never end,
Like an angel to descend
Just to take my heart away.
My fantasy and me
In silent twilight sway.
I love my fantasies.
Trumpets blown
In the echo of a wind.
Secrets grown
Like a tamarind
In tropical retreat.
Only to be scattered
In the rain
On a common street.
For the world
Hears every cry
Of broken bouquets
Strewn across
The halcyon days
Long gone by.
Yet
Fantasy and me
Will linger on to sigh.
With our buoyant hope
On a stormy sea.
And
Chariots will endlessly
Transport my soul
In red slipstream,
To where her melting eyes
Of fiery coal
Are hiding in a dream.
To be set free
By
My fantasy and me.
Who invented that fantasy is unreal? Is your mind working frantically, is your body reacting and your soul expressing itself. Reminds you of something? Poetry, perhaps? So Fantasy over us. Beautiful Poet! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We all need our fantasies, and you have some beautiful ones here Kevin.