These Imagination Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Imagination. These are the best examples of Imagination Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds
This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained
But, don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day
The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain
From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night,
that switches on the light
I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...
For Leonora Galinta's Contest
Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair
Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee
Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark
She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?
To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife
Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest
And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear
And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber
She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee
The smoke is a question mark...
My view of you is covered in gray
You pause, look back, then walk away
You’ve neglected to open your umbrella…
Tomorrow, under a different sky
I will listen to the songs of yesterday
The world leaves behind a sign language for broken hearts
It is cloudy, it is beginning to rain…
Goodbyes are bitter ales we drank today
I look again, through the smudges of the day
We are going to leave behind a trail of smoke
A sound like a tired mother calling in her child
The train whistle rings in the dusk
I take a last look through the window
I have said my goodbyes
The train begins to move
We are leaving the station platform
Tears weep down the window
Spilling over the imprints of my hand
I found myself dry eyed and my throat too tight to speak
Finding a place to put the carry-ons
People are chatting, settling in
Happy, excited, anxious to be departing
A thin straight lift and a gray, silvery curve
Like a sickle for harvesting the first star…
The smoke is a question mark
"Write A Backwards Poem"
The mountain peaks in colored sugar coat
Of pinks and blues and lilac violet hues
The sky, just before sunrise, all windless and clear
The day is misty, bitter cold, and crystal sheen
But I am warmed by one small ray of golden morning light
From high upon a perch of snow top crest
A lone stag with graceful legs that fly
Carving out a quiet trail, like fleeting wind
The sound so soft, the hush of whispered steps
He halts, and looks at me with logic's eyes
And seems to smile in recognition,
His golden crown of antlers, gleam in morning sun
Just when I thought my crystal world would splinter
He tilts his head, and bids me to come
And like an eagle's wing, remote and sure
He darts away, just like a bird
Without a sound
Beauty of the wind....beauty of pure grace
I run after him, panting and breathless,
Through the glimmering, in search of answers
But, I cannot keep up, as he disappears without a trace
And still not wringing the answers from the slightest sound
Yet, I am left alone, and feel at peace
For Constance's Contest: The Nature Dream/Spirtual Dream
Majestic illusions, dwell in my mind,
my special place that is only mine.
Filled with miracles, given through love,
my little heaven , when life gets tough.
A voyage I take, no one else is here,
I feel no sadness, I feel no fear.
The quietness, and serenity of an ocean voice,
waves coming softly, the air so moist.
Peace all around, no hassle of life,
my safe Haven of refugee, whenever I cry.
Hello friend, Do you see that man on the corner by the street?
He is holding the cardboard saying "homeless and I need to eat."
If you're not too busy, come with me on a journey back to 1969.
It will help you to look past his appearence and beyond his homemade sign.
This is the 1960's, where they thrived on the American Dream.
The women were real ladies, or at least in public thats what it seems.
Today is High School graduation, So much happiness is in the air,
But, These young men have recieved papers, and Uncle Sam expects them there.
Do you recognize the bone structure of this boy standing on our right?
He is the one from the future corner, he was Valedictorian tonight.
So well dressed, and raised up right, his sweetheart by his side.
He has no reason to be fearful of the draft, he is filled with American Pride.
Fast foward, Just a few weeks, to him and his young new wife,
Kissing so passionately, pressing pause on their future, and their life.
He is dropped down in the jungle, amist the sounds of live fire.
He sees injured men being lifted out, as the SGT's on the wire.
Just a young boy of 19, he is scared beyond his witts,
Yet, he completes every mission he is given, he never quits.
He holds the hands of friends, who was cut down in their prime.
Yes, this is the same man, the one you wouldn't give a dime.
He arrives back home, in the year of 1972.
His tour earned him a purple heart, he took bullets for you.
once at home, he is expecting affection from his lover,
but, he has been gone for so long she already found another.
So at 21 years old, this veteran is now a man,
He drinks his memories away, everynight if he can.
He gave an eye, and two of the best friends he has ever known.
He never was told "thank you", and he has nothing to call his own.
If you pay close attention to the newspapers of '72
you will see in the protest, they blamed the drafted soilders too.
so here is this man, young, and broken, yet, still not ashamed.
He proudly answered the call, when the draft listed his name.
Only a fellow Veteran, could even try to understand,
That there are no surviving Vets, a part of them died in Vietnam.
When they returned they expected welcome parties and smiles.
Instead they were placed in a new war, but, it was their uniform on trial.
If you still feel the same as you did before our walk.
Go on about your day, forget about our talk.
But, if you have decided, you can look beyond his sign.
Maybe understand his pain, and give our hero a dime.
Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter
But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”
I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite. I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?
She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…
There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…
Pearl drops strung on silver strands …
She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…
Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…
I have never looked at rain the same way since then.
For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest
“You may say that I’m a dreamer”,
With bold presumption in my youth
Beyond school age, but hardly saged
Turned loose, we hoped to use our wits to change the world…
And thought we would…and thought we could…
We declared to fight, what seemed so right
Those days as we leaned so hard against the wind
The plight of man’s predicament on earth, we mused
The breeze just caught our spouted words
And tossed them where it would
We feared our crystal world would splinter
Would shatter without our spin...
"Never knowing who to cling to, when the rain set in”
But that was then…
So naively in such innocence
Thinking we could see a world at peace
Hoping to make our dreams come alive
From thoughts we shaped on winsome days
Imagining, ….if you please
"It doesn't have to be that way!"
And now with logic’s eyes, I do remember
How changeless is a planet
Glimmering in search of answers
And still not wringing answers from the slightest sound
And words we spoke, with vigorous shape
Our hopes expressed, still looks for guidance…
Are uttered yet, by other voices…
“My words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed in the wells of silence”
Lyrics From John Lennon “Beatles”
Simon and Garfunkle
For Chris Matt's ---'Contest Favorite Songs and Lyrics'
I woke to the sound of sizzling bacon, the aroma of fresh baked Muffins and my Beautiful Lenore in her bright green Teddy. "Nubbies", I said, "what time is it." Lenore said" for You it is 3:30P.M., June 27th, 2013. You are in the O.R. at Dartmouth Hospital. For me it is time to bring YOU to Eternity for a short time."What are You talking about; Baby." I died last night before we had time to go to the Bridal Suite. I do not want You to go through that pain again. Please come with me to the railing on the starboard side of the ship."Below the shuffle board deck?""Nubbies, just
trust me." As we walked outside, I noticed there was no air,no breeze, no sea lapping against the side of the boat, the sun seemed pasted in the sky. Where is Mom and Dad;where's my Ma, Where is everybody? Harry we are frozen in time, for last night and today; never happened for you. I asked the Lord to give us this time together. I was 3 months pregnant when I said "I DO" I want you to see JoAnne Naomi Grow up. Now
Full Moonlight Stand on the railing with me and when I say 3; Jump. 1, 2, 3. You would think we would plummet into the Caribbean Sea, but we splashed into the Full Moon. The sun was warm,the birds sat on my shoulders, singing a song of Life Forever. The Peace, Serenity and Tranquility was unearthly. I then saw GOD and the Son of Salvation hugged me and in a Mezmerizing Voice said Welcome Home.
To be Continued
I want to apologize to those of YOU who are punctuationally bound to Poetry I do not know how to punctuate people talking. I know I'm suppose to use "" marks Sorry I LOVE YOU ALWAYS and FOREVER YOUR Liege...Harry
She walks here often, almost every day
She thinks of him
And each day he will appear
With a different name, a different face,
But always,…. the story will be the same…..
His skin will be bronzed by the sun
Wet and glistening by the tide
He will not tell her his name
Instead, he tells her she is beautiful
The sand scalds her shoulders and thighs
She will let him have his way
He will talk with his hands
He tells her she carries passion in the little hallow of her back
Her walks along the beach
And into the brambles
Are never without purpose
She thinks of how he may be watching
She is pleased to hold
Her head tilted slightly downward
If, while she continues
Into the wildflowers and thistles
With her clothing open
With her skin borne
To foxtails and thorns
Letting them enter her flesh…..
She will of course admit
Astonishment, …….but no shame…
And promises herself not to return again
For at least a week
For Cyndi's Contest: Sensual