Fantasy... Poems - Poems about Fantasy...

In the silence of the evening, when shadows dance on the walls of my soul like spirits of a lost dream, I let myself be carried by a river of thoughts, searching for your hidden smile, a diamond in the moonlight, Not the one you wear as a mask for the world, but that fleeting one that...

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In the silence of the evening, when thoughts intertwine like smoke rising to the starry sky, I wonder if I ever truly understood how love works, I've always been concerned with the things close to you, those little universes that make you happy, The things that matter to you, like constellations in the uncharted map of your soul. But...

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Sometimes, the longing for her overwhelms me, and no one else knows this silent pain, Most people think my pain is just poetry, just words, images from my wandering mind, They don't see the battles I fight deep within my soul, where shadows dance on the edge of memories, Maybe sometimes I lie in poetry because the truth...

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There is someone, somewhere, Who finishes my verses as if my thoughts were hers, Before I ever dared to think them, Someone who meets my metaphors halfway, Who understands my silence better than I do myself. There is someone, somewhere, Who searches for me in every quiet moment... in the silence before dawn, In the pause between heartbeats, She scrolls through playlists hoping...

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She steps, and each movement is a dance of stars across the universe, A constellation in motion, carrying light into every corner of shadow, On paths of tranquility, guided by a kindness that untangles the knots of time, Her smile soothes unseen wounds, transforming suffering into sculptures of happiness. With a radiance that seems borrowed from the eternal fire...

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m o o n y river, eyes that e b b and f l o w. h o p s c o t c h stones, leaping u n d e r t o w s. moonbow s t r e t c h e d o u...

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. for public domain I took the moon home with me, balanced on my head. We brushed our teeth, and cleaned our ears, and off we went to bed. We had no stories to tell each other, no tales of woe and strife, but happily we sighed, and turned out the light, and journied on through the night. And when we woke in the morning, the moon...

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Wrap me in dreams, like a canvas of stars draped over my soul, When the rain weaves its silver silk on windows like a veil of silence, The cold gathers us like birds under the same sky, caressed by memories, The sun, a weary painter, lays slanting rays on the terraces of our dreams. Let dreams carry me through...

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Under the velvet sky where stars dance like butterflies of light, A man is born from the dream of eternity, like a flower from the serene night, Sculpted from the silent shadows of time, floating on the endless sea, Traveling through the waves of destiny, an existence crafted from mystery. His breath is a warm breeze caressing the green...

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Thanks to these storms to which I owe the power to wield my angst like a shining sword, For they have taught me to shake off my fears and crush them at my weary feet, I feel a whirlwind of air entering my anxious being, freeing me from the shadows of fear, I owe them their icy stillness,...

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The moralists, twenty and two, Know not what is like to ensue, When, grasping but smidgeons, They act as if pigeons; They’ll probably hate me when through....

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If I had met you in another age, when time flowed more slowly and solemnly, I would have written your name in vivid ink, on parchment that preserves eternally, I would have escaped to secret libraries, where silence embraces stories, On the margins of old volumes, I would have laid down my devotion. But here we are, in this...

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I fold myself into smiles I don’t feel, like paper carefully hiding the truth, I walk hallways as if I’m not slowly melting into the shadows of silent walls, I nod in conversations as if I’m truly listening, but in reality, I’m just trying to remember what it was like to breathe without apologizing for every breath. The mirror...

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Made my escape While the Djinn sleeps Now to run off with the Djinns money Need a large carrier Must hurry ...

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Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory, Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea. Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit; Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence. Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together! Like allurng, violet future,...

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