Poets logo

A Fantasy World Or A Dream

Pulled in and pleasantly lost

By Colleen Millsteed Published 4 years ago • 2 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

A relaxing afternoon with time on my hands,

After a busy weekend spent with loved ones,

Two hours of freedom to do as I so please,

I choose to open the door to see what comes.

***

My imagination is stimulated as I do so enjoy,

Loosing sight of the world, the noisy outdoors,

Taken far from home, the life that I’ve known,

Dreaming of other worlds and past dinosaurs.

***

Flying through space one moment, totally free,

When suddenly we perform a crash landing,

The world changes, lost in a horrid bloody war,

Dreaming or is my consciousness expanding.

***

I find myself within an ancient magical forest,

Lost in a fashion, but I’ve not a care at all,

As the forest leaves begin to turn vivid colours,

All oranges, reds and browns of splendid fall.

***

Wandering aimlessly along a track, exploring,

The air carrying a foggy mist, cold and damp,

The edges of the trail displaying mushrooms,

Colourful but uneatable, your body will cramp.

***

The further I amble, the more dense the forest,

When suddenly there’s a large clearing ahead,

With a massive tree displaying it’s green leaves,

It’s a portal to another world, a fantasy instead.

***

This world is truly amazing, with plants galore,

Animals everywhere, a small rabbit and a doe,

Both relaxing at the base of this gorgeous tree,

A stag is peering around at the magic meadow.

***

Am I really experiencing this weird magical land,

No, I must be dreaming but oh, what a dream,

I step into the shadows of this special moment,

And slowly circle the tree into a lit moonbeam.

***

Staring around in awe at where I find myself,

I failed to notice a small figure sound asleep,

Curious as to why the animals surround her,

Fearful that I will wake her as closer I creep.

***

She’s just a tiny thing with gorgeous red hair,

Weird shaped ears, short skirt and bare feet,

I move closer as I’m concerned she is dead,

Then I hear a slight whisper of a heartbeat.

***

Amazing but surreal, I never want to wake,

Lost in my subconsciously projected terrain,

Until I hear the rasping of fingers on paper,

I’m lost in the story but it’s at home I remain.

******************************************

If you liked my writing, please click on the small heart underneath, near my name. Or send me a tip and let me know you enjoyed it.

****

Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.

Originally posted on Medium

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by Colleen Millsteed