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A Cup full of Nonsense

A Poem

By Naomi TyhurstPublished about a year ago 2 min read
1

First I see the endless void

I'm too bemused to feel annoyed.

Am I free falling or flying up?

Doesn't matter, though it seemed abrupt,

I suddenly landed into a brimming water cup

Full of chaotic auras, colors, and scenes,

Of nonsensical castles and underwater streams.

I held my breath until fit to burst,

But at the moment that it felt the worst,

I let go, and chose to be laissez-faire,

Letting water fill my lungs like pure sweet air

It seemed I could breath just like a fish,

But I couldn't go up or move as I wish.

Wriggling and writhing and waving my limbs

I kept sinking deeper, unable to swim.

My heart drummed as I continued to sink,

Though I wasn't as scared as one might think,

For once I reached the bottom of this glass cup,

The only way from there was going up.

I saw the clear bottom, I didn't think it'd be long,

But I drifted deeper and deeper, and saw that I was wrong.

No matter the distance I continued to descend,

There didn't seem to be a comprehensible end.

Confused, and bored, I looked all around,

Instead of the bottom, I'd find new ground.

So I spun in place and then could have shrieked,

As I came face to face with an enormous beak.

Underneath the castle of mismatching towers

A gargantuan gold eye openly glowered.

It had a long curling neck and multiple feet,

It had russet feathers, camouflaged discreet.

It floated on it's back with its long body curled

Around the old castle as if it were the world.

Meanwhile the beast flickered between dragon and bird

As if it couldn't decide on which it preferred.

I wondered of the castle it held tight in its grip,

Had it taken the building, brought it down into the drip?

Or have they always been here like a sunken specters;

The underwater castle, and its reptilian protector?

No matter the answers, I'll never know,

Because by this time, I had to go

All at once I rose from colorful deep

Knowing I could never return,

Even if I fell back asleep.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Naomi Tyhurst

Art is meant to be seen and stories are meant to be heard. I create, because I want to share the dreams playing in my head.

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