FANTASIE
In the world of imagination
A private space in the brain
Where reality is turned away
And where everything is fey
When mystery repeats again
Wizards offer an incantation
Elves and fairies always there
All treated as common folk
Trolls that keep out of sight
As all creatures of the night
At the time the dragon woke
As goblins tiptoe past its lair
The magic forest is the place
Spirit creatures roaming wild
A mere few that think its real
But a fantasy has that appeal
Visitors always leave beguiled
Here, nothing leaves a trace
In This world,
we are all artisans ...
We sew with the hands
the sins and the no,
light and shadow,
joys and sorrows ...
With these nobles
materials we do
the clothes we wear
in life...
there is a place that we each withdraw,
a place which protects, delights and always adores.
this place is not real although we sometimes wish it were.
a warm place where negativity is always deterred.
the place is called fantasy,
an island dedicated to what we want it to be.
fantasies are dreams in which we let go of all inhibitions.
where we imagine love, fun, sexual pleasures in submission.
fantasies are where illusions of grandeur tend to bloom -
visions of all you "can be" brightly loom.
fantasies are where happiness is a mere mirage.
hallucinations of, what could be.......
no, what should be is just a visage.
fantasies are the product of a yearning mind’s invention.
it's all made up, or should i not mention ?
fantasies, the reflection of your heart's vision.
where a man full of passionate, undying love is no apparition.
dreaming wonderful, love filled fabrications;
when the reality of it all deadens all sensations.
Symphony in park
Summer, under stars, m'lady
Chopins Fantasie
Who played Chopin on piano?
Fantasie-Impromptu much blithe.
Was so fast like when the winds blow.
Runs, magically came to life.
The Christmas party gave great joy.
Who played Chopin on piano?
For every little girl and boy.
There even sang a soprano.
The piano was intaglio.
Ornamented on the surface.
Who played Chopin on piano?
Making carved figures seem to race.
Pianos are such lovely things.
Melodious as the white snow.
The many strings are made to ring.
Who played Chopin on piano?
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