Fantasise Poems | Examples

I hate my neighbour and want to murder them

I hate my neighbour and want to kill them.
I imagine their car being squashed by trucks like jam sandwiches. Red crusts.
I daydream that their staircase collapses like factories ready for demolition.
I fantasise they swallow glass instead of coffee and bleach in place of milk.
I conjure images of their flesh peeling like skin from a potato. Sliced in strips.
I sit and listen to their music. I stand and hear their television.
I hate my neighbour and want to kill them.
I see their death, to ease my life.

Prisoner of Poetry

Bound by the chains of poetry, that’s me
Words swirl in my mind continuously
However hard I try to flee from this cell
The prison of poetry won’t bid farewell.

I write of nature’s infinite splendour 
The more I see, the more I’m in awe
Wonder of the sky, sunrise or sunset
Trees and flowers with magnificent effect.

I tell of birds singing sweetly on high
Children’s laughter as I’m passing them by
Of animals, treasures of planet Earth
Folk who just want to love for all they’re worth.

Now and then I am prone to fantasise 
Taking readers with me on carpet rides
To places I know I could never see
In the wonder of imaginary.

Tales of happiness and tales of sorrow
Wherever my muse is wanting to go
A  prisoner of poetry I’ll be
As long as there’s rhyme, and time left for me.

MY FUTURE SELF

MY FUTURE SELF

My future days are as a grey thickening mist
I refuse to countenance them and will resist
Life’s mill is slowing now with no more grist
I am told to live for today, whilst it may last
Nor breathe deep on the oxygen of the past
No longer who I was, I will be who I will be

I am, after all, just one of many mere mortals
Even fantasise about stepping through portals
Imagining an amused ferryman as he chortles
I cannot believe in any weird alternate future
With any link to permanence held by a suture
And tomorrow is a barred gate, don’t you see

Some seeking a different prospect to entertain
May, in their mind, hope they are not insane
But perhaps it’s just like a worm in their brain
Yet reality can offer only a very cold shoulder
That is pushed further back as one gets older
Past present and future, we will have all three

A Piece of My Soul

A piece of my soul

Who am I?
A Muse or a Poet?
A Lyre or a Melody?
Or just a plain girl?
What do I see
A dream or a vision?
Or a harsh reality?
Don't know, really.
But do I not possess wings
to take me to the
Infinite Galaxies,
Depths of the oceans
Tips of the mountains and
Dunes of Deserts?
Yes, I do.
Do I not possess the faculty
To see, to feel, another's pain?
To empathise, to be of aid?
The heart to rejoice in
another's happiness, to share in their joy?
The imagination which fuels my spirit,
That gives rise to empathy?
Yes, I do.
And that is why I'm everything.
A Muse because I inspire my pen,
A Poet because I observe, I create.
A lyre because I am the instrument,
A melody because I am what I sing.
I dream, sometimes I fantasise,
Sometimes I imagine,
Yet without losing touch with the world.
I am but a plain girl,
Yet there is a piece of my soul,
In each word I put down.
And that makes me,
A light and winged and holy creature*

 *Reference to the dialogue Ion by classical thinker Plato.

Until Death Does Part

When trouble finds my place in time

		I stick to rhythm meter rhyme

			The planet wobbles out of kilter

	Poetry is my lens reflection filter

As virus sheds its ugly eerie mask's persona

			I can be stronger than corona

	Isolation and reclusion are no pleasure

	         But ink and fountain pen retain their measure

Nothing is worse than speechless tongues

			I breathe with so far uncontaminated lungs

	And when the apocalypse is high and nigh

		                As the quill is coughing with a sigh

			At least I've done my bit until the final day

         I'll script depict fantasise ponder have my say

About what matters in the grander schemes

				In essence love compassion dreams

			Just like the covert bug has no frontier

		I hold my friends and lover dear

	Empathy also should not stick to a random borderline

			Transcends gender race class and toughens social twine

A seasoned and rebellious maverick will not be muted

		In fact narration and lock down are rather suited


8th April 2020

I Miss You Most At Christmas Time

I miss you most at Christmas time
and it's hard to know why, other than this:
with each December I feel the loss of you so keenly.

December when we first kissed, 
December when we'd discuss all future Decembers together.

And fantasise of curling together on some remote sofa, vaguely aware of the tree and the twinkle of another Christmas. And brothers and board games and brisk beach walks, having long forgotten the circumstances which led us there together. 

Accepted and affectionate and, oh, beautifully orchestrated.
Carols in quaint churches, and more Spanish love poems, love like topaz and love like carnations. 

But the shadows were always there, they grow deeper all the time. Each fantasy, each gnawing reminiscence crumbles yearly; the Yule log burnt to ashes.

I miss you most at Christmas time, 
and it's hard to know why, 
other than all this.

Mind Dance

Entranced, I danced, inside my head I chanced
my mind, to find pictures that relieved the grind
of an ordinary day.
I schemed, then dreamed in rainbow-honeyed hues it seemed.
In fun, in sun, the day meandered and indeed did run
in an interesting way.

Grey mists, like lists, stretched endlessly and as clenched fists
feel fierce, nails pierce hard unyielding palms then transpierce 
skin, like arrows in a heart.
These fly, with sigh, from cupid’s bow and might identify
a love, above all others, as special as a soft-breasted dove
is to hatchlings at the start.

Closed eyes, my prize, comes to me as I fantasise.
I see, you, me; together experiencing ecstasy.
Visions from my long lost youth
I sight, delight my memory as I remember, invite
the past, outcast from thought as food is in a fast,
surrender to time and truth.

Fantasies

FANTASIES.

Fantasies can be futile, but fun,
Better than fixations for some,
Fantasies can be great for everyone,
When company at your side, there's none,
Let's fantasise,
And visualise---
Impossible dreams my brain ran,
All over some intangible man,
Must believe in the invisible,
So not really credible,
But better than fixations for some,
Fantasies can be futile, but fun.

Fantasy Terzanelle Questionku

It starts as a simple thought
that echoes in the brain 
waiting for idealism sought

Idealism starts the process train
that brings forth the  fantasy 
that echoes  in the brain

To fantasise is to be free
to imagine to feel totally
That brings forth the fantasy

to escape life's reality
no holding back the desire
to imagine to feel  totally

I fantasise about the burning fire
imagining it within me
no holding back the desire

No longer afraid, because you  see
it starts as a simple thought
imagining it within me
waiting for idealism sought

Lips touching lips
Hands pulling off clothes...
Ted's ear off, ring bearwatch

Christmas Time

I miss you most at Christmas time
and it's hard to know why, other than this:
with each December I feel the loss of you so keenly.
December when we first kissed, 
December when we'd discuss all future Decembers together.

And fantasise of curling together on some remote sofa, vaguely aware of the tree and the twinkle of another Christmas. And brothers and board games and brisk beach walks, having long forgotten the circumstances which led us there together. 

Accepted and affectionate and, oh, beautifully orchestrated.
Carols in quaint churches, and more Spanish love poems, love like topaz and love like carnations. 

But the shadows were always there, they grow deeper all the time. Each fantasy, each gnawing reminiscence crumbles yearly; the Yule log burnt to ashes.

I miss you most at Christmas time, 
and it's hard to know why, 
other than all this.

Fantasise

I fantasise about when we would meet
What will happen at the point when we’ll greet
Will we first shake hands and then a kiss on the cheek
Or a passionate kiss that will make me  legs weak

What happens from there, do we go out in the town
Or to my hotel room till breakfast, seeing you in my gown
Do we meet up with friends and talk poetry
Or do I hold you tight close next to me

Do we go out to a club, to drink and dance?
Or cuddle at home in a champagne romance
Ask me this question “What shall we do?”
Come into my arms and let me guide you 

** I cannot tell you who this lady is that has inspired me.**

thanks Wilma

Human Nature - Reserved

Nature tamed, organised, tidied and serving
Consummately sanitised for human consumption
Nature bent unnaturally to suit the human nature
Every pretty maid and ducks…in a row
 
Florid facilities for townsfolk to fantasise 
Looking without seeing, treading without looking
Stepping upon the very thing that they seek
Nature expertly hidden to create rustic bliss

The gravel path isolates shoe from dirt to avert mess
A discreet suggestion to look but don’t touch
Controlled decay, stage managed for impact and effect
Nature has been preserved…in a human natured sort of way

Just Waiting (Revised)

I can't lead a life without love,
but is it love if it isn't with you?
everytime i let him touch me.
I feel that i'm being untrue.
I imagine your smell as i lie next to him.
I despise every part of myself.
I fantasise of a day where you save me,
anyone else will just be second best.
i wonder if you can still taste me,
if you still feel me under your skin.
I wonder if you can still hear me
begging for you to begin.
i imagine the taste of your mouth
and the touch of your hands on my skin.
i imagine you pressed hard against me,
everytime that i make love to him.
I live for the day i inhale you again,
you take over my head and my soul.
Everyday now forever spent waiting for you.
I love you, i thought you should know.

Disillusionment

D iscovering the cold hearted truth, that 
I nnocence is the same as 
S tupidity
I ncarcerating your dreams as you
L earn that nothing is as it appears
L ife is never what it seems
U nderstanding reality is
S omething we all learn the hard way
I n a world where
O nce chance is given and another taken away
N ever again wanting to fantasise you 
M ove away from what you once believed
E nduring the self pity that you feel
N ever daring to tell a soul 
T hat once again your dreams have been shattered

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