We are asleep under the dome of dreams that dance in secrecy,
in a labyrinth of shadows where time whispers forgotten tales.
We step on carpets of stars woven from the threads of deep night,
seeking the hidden light in the cracks of silver silence.
In our slumber, life is a river winding through the abyss,
where each thought is a seagull searching for its lost flight.
We dream we are sculpted from moon dust and the powder of desires,
floating among clouds of silk that carry the echo of old memories.
But sometimes we awaken like a butterfly opening its wings,
feeling how the air becomes a song reviving the hidden silence.
In those moments, our hearts beat like divine clocks,
measuring eternity in the fragile pulse of the boundless universe.
We return to the dream, carrying with us the sparkle of an eternal moment,
like a guiding star illuminating the path in the endless night,
reminding us that we are awake in our own symphony of dreams,
carrying in our souls the echo of a world beyond dreaming and time.
Written By: D. Collins 5/29/25
With no magnetic field nor atmosphere.
Wouldn't radiation rain down everywhere?
What physics are involved with explosions in space?
And what would be the outcome of the human race?
Would it completely throw our moon out of whack?
Causing major tsunamis or have they thought about that?
I'm no genius but I have simple common sense.
Explosions in space will make something happen.
That irrational greed for the power over all.
Most likely would become our final downfall.
I can't be sure if out there other life exists.
If it does, I'm sure they're having none of it.
.
i love your
eyne
i love your
narice
y
su boca
yourn pixie thick
jowlz
dientes
howlz
AMNIOTIC FLUID
I am your amniotic fluid
imbibe me
I am your amniotic fluid
I nourish you
implode me
impetuously
lengthen laugh strengthen
through me
master thighs
thyroid open palms
create hips high
or low
lingering
touch bones bygone
birthing
within my dantien
dome
Source sparkles spice
from rice roses
rubies
I am your
amniotic
fluid muse
mould mysteriously
myself
gold goblets silver
spiral slivers
soft
exploring explanations
exploding
ecstasy
exists
endlessly
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2025
Surreal magical mushroom dome
From where did you come?
Where is your extraterrestrial home?
Your iridescent sheen gives us such a feeling
Your mystical properties have our faeries reeling.
You are the one we speak of at elf meetings now
Gorgeous does not describe you, for you are a wow.
Surreal magical mushroom dome
From where did you come?
Where is your extraterrestrial home?
Written: September 24, 2023
___________________________________________________________
Beneath the dome of radiant skies,
A realm of dreams before my eyes,
Where rainbows dance and colors blend,
A mystic charm that will transcend.
A rose blooms in the heart of this realm.
Its buds are brittle, with an innate whelm.
Each petal holds a secret prayer,
Whispered softly in the fragrant air.
Pray, oh divine, grant me the sight,
To foresee beyond the veil of night.
In this realm, where dreams bear flight,
Where love and hope ignite,
I yearn to glimpse the hidden truth,
To unravel the mysteries of my youth.
Beneath the dome of radiant skies,
Where magic and wonder never dies,
I search for the answers that lie within,
The wisdom that will cleanse my sin.
I wander through this enchanted land,
Guided by the touch of a loving hand.
In this realm of beauty and grace,
I find serenity in every embrace.
Colors of the rainbow shine so bright,
A tapestry of love and pure delight.
The vibrant hues of nature's art,
Entrancing melodies that touch the heart.
Beneath the dome of radiant skies,
A realm where my soul forever lies.
A building is not a home,
Because it’s got a nice foam:
There has to be some blood ties
One can feel their truths and lies
Or man and woman with rings
That control their reckless wings…
A building is not a home
For looking like ones in Rome:
It has to be rather safe:
The skins there should not just chafe…
You get to like Homes caring:
The best place for child-rearing,
Children strict ideas grabbing
But for soon sniffed ones grubbing…
A building is not a home
For its finished top like office:
The White House is an office
Don’t in your home office fix.
Michelangelo was seventy-one years young
when he began designing St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican’s Dome
Lying on scaffolds for hours a day, it was a labor of love
His final hurrah, a worthwhile sacrifice,
Millions of visitors have marveled at his works.
Each streak of paint was an experienced stroke of a master painter.
Michelangelo, the quintessential designer, working for hours
Bravo! He has left us the ultimate artistic masterpiece.
A perimeter with firm block seats
For teenagers patrolling the streets;
More needed to strengthen their gossips;
Jokes about Dads who wash plates in ships!
Seat blocks for kids from the Broken Home.
They might on them lie: consoling foam,
Dream of saving marriage blessed in Rome:
Their lost umbrella, Uprooted Dome…
But on this not a concentration
Of honked horns in ears penetration
Some of them flutists’ composition,
One or two ghostly exposition
Stating a warming disposition.
A driver’s wish you watch rolling tyres
So you don’t meet stretcher Risk hires!
A sole dilemma is one's own mindset.
All are ideal in the absence of erudition.
Nothing needs changing in the intellect.
Mental woes arise if struck by tradition.
The globe is presently dozing in harmony.
Let me meander as geese chirp a melody.
Upon the time the queen is writing a poem.
For the pioneer yet was careful of a totem.
Prompt the stars I can identify the sheen.
Located near the grave of the killed queen.
With reverberation of misery rolling endlessly
Inside restrictions of the area of personality.
Let the story finally develop, my novum.
This is the halcyon conclusion of my poem.
Written: July 16, 2022
hellish heat dome mercilessly crushes
the listless lunatics like exhausted bugs
Find fine excuses for your lateness;
That way you will protect your Greatness:
A Street fight that just ended a life,
A man The beating out of wife,
A purge that vowed to keep you at home,
A drug you took, everything A Dome …
A soiling of your wear by a car,
Your offer to trace some kid afar;
A patient guide to A Drunk who slobbers,
A surfacing of Long-Starving robbers …
They are all Excuses for Lateness
From A-Z, Lies of Finesse.
Who luckily meets kids at home,
When they start to places roam
Or start arranging for Rome
To her nook and cranny comb,
Hopefully glimpse her Underground Gnome
Or try Rome’s own Cycles of Chrome?
Whoever jams kids at home,
Who by nature at a boring home
Begin to in their mouths foam?
Soon out for architectural sand and loam
To mount The Flat-Shaped and Dome
While worried or dumped parents at home
Rage and don’t fail to foam.
Let destiny create a distance...
Firestorm of roses will set an inferno...
Arrow goading the scented sceneries.
Maniac in love, heartlands of homophiles.
Lovely heart cradled in my lover's arms...
Glass dome saving the last petal...
Canvass the soil for a sepal...
Eclipse eyes yearning forever this memory,
Century of love marking romantique history,
Chancery charming this unsettled elapse...
Bowing on the vow of your untangled fragrance,
Heart on your heart always.
The mountain has a tear on its cheek.
Abide pleasure in the missing mosaic.
To boldly sing the anthem of well-being.
Dome shouts their vows aloud beyond feeling.
On their doorsteps, older women are bathing.
Continually, perhaps achieve attic sealing.
A graveyard reveals the past's honesty.
In her tale, Singing Gardens praises jasmine.
The jury doesn't care over the first sight love.
It has a tower deck with a silent shaft.
Just what the ghost wishes are granted to him.
Written: October 14, 2021
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