Best Visualisation Poems
Looking at a patten on the curtain
You know I can't help but visualise
And why though I am not quite certain
Is it something wrong with my eyes
Is it a fragment of my imagination
Or is this some kind of awakening
Like some new found destination
Something that's in the making
And forming a picture out of what I see
But is it a face though or an actual being
It's like I'm now taken on this journey
To some magical place I'm now seeing
Is it an extension of my artistic flair
Or some other part of my creativity
Is it just what they call visualisation
That of someone who is a visionary
Written 2010 inspierd by converstion I had
with cpn at low point in my life
get the cure
be always sure
what happens next
solve all pretext
problems are many
look never tiny
history or sociology
knowledge is methodology
knowledge is power
meant for shower
problem and knowledge
things to acknowledge
problem of communication
knowledge without inhibition
if problem intricate
attention paid adequate
Sitting in the sunshine
streaming through the window
my catnap's long overdue
it's way past time I drifted off
to the land of milk
(and honey) ah Shangri-La
a return to déjà vu
and my reverie
it's no hallucination
merely visualisation
of a fertile imagination
and when all is said and done
no I'm not the one
(but, 'Wish I were,' hear me purr)
the cat who ate the canary
or that got the cream
but until I do I'll catch some z's
lose myself in whimsy drift away and dream
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If Fantasy Were Reality
Human mind is like a wild cheeky horse,
Untrained, it pursues its own wilful course
Of IMAGINATION that lively brains
Can freely wish and afford to sustain
In a DREAM world of reckless REVERIE
Amidst the glow of frantic fantasy.
Flying on silvery wings of fancy
I dream being the king of my country
With beauties of my choice serving on me,
Attending to my WHIMSY wants like flees,
Basking in the sun in midst of the sea,
Inhaling freshness of the air, carefree.
Alas, when the dream comes to abrupt halt
I feel being struck by a thunderbolt
Viewing it as VISUALISATION
Bordering on a HALLUCINATION
With the sour sense of dropping from the moon
To face the realm of reality soon.
If fantasy were a reality
There would exist no shrines of poverty
No climes where wicked woeful wars are waged
No theatre where violence is staged,
But a land where blooms the flower of peace
Where in every soul sprouts the seed of bliss.
If fantasy could endow us with grace
Evert poor man`s house would be a palace,
Man could dwell on earth many thousand years
Without shedding a drop of pearly tear,
Without an iota of divine fear,
Decreeing earth as his very own sphere.
Each and every day, whilst still in bed, she was delivered tea and toasted crusty bread
at the end of that consumption, she'd light up a deadly phag
Then drop the butt to mix with tea leaves at the bottom of the cup, On removal of that cup
by an eight year old son, the sight of that mix, would often make him gag
From both of his parents he keenly had observed,
how they did the drawback, on the substance from which he was strictly banned
Inhaled the toxic smoke, deep into their lungs,
he had practised many times without a cigarette in hand
At the tender age of ten, he decided
he would steal a cigarette or four
From the supply that his father held which he would then furtively smoke,
behind the toilet door
So now he lit the match to ignite that ciggy stick
took some puffs, inhaled the toxic smoke,
unexpected outcome, his head began to spin, he was also feeling rather sick
Subconscious mind to conscious mind
it sent out a stern warning, in which it did implore
It's a dirty filthy habit
it's one you must ignore
But the smoking it continued
interspersed with bouts of coughing, every single day
Until the age of twenty six, the penny finally dropped
this intoxicating habit, you must give it clean away
In those days there were no vapes no nicotine patches
it was the art of will power upon which he must draw
Visualisation of the bottom of the teacup that used to make him gag
was the image once again, that was what he saw
Fifty years have now elapsed since he decided
that he'd finally had enough
Withdraw from the weed which for fifteen years
he had always endured a daily puff
He finally could relax, no craving for the habit
disdains the smell of ciggy smoke
At age of three score plus seventeen years more
he has now become a so much fitter bloke