In the folds of quiet dreams,
Where reality can't find,
There lies an escape world,
Crafted deep within the mind.
Where every wish takes flight and soars,
Above the tallest trees.
The skies are painted in the soft hues,
Of endless possibilities,
Where nothing’s ever out of reach,
And hearts are truly free.
A refuge from the noise of life,
A sanctuary of the mind.
But even in this perfect place,
For the real world calls us back again,
To face another day.
About the Creator
Abbas
Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen5 days ago in Poets
When Big Bands Played on every station 📻
When big bands ruled the world, with live broadcast each night. A slow world. A sentimental world. A world that believed in God. In LOVE. A world after the war that appreciated the small things, the community and most importantly family above all else. What a beautiful world that was of values. If we could only add progression to old school morality then maybe one would have less suffering. A book I read often from the 1950 states “if suffering made the world wise, a wise world it would be” after the world wars what a wise world we were becoming. If progression could meet slowness, like the Italian say “the art of doing nothing” what a peaceful world we would have. Big Bands brought in peace in a time the world didn’t know the end, each night the news goes off, did a love one die? Is your family now just a Jayne or Joe doe somewhere out there? Well forget your troubles we are all in this together- here is Glenn Miller and his Big Bands singing it’s a blue world, the moonlight serenade begins for a hour where you forget your troubles and melt in with the big band. Once the war was over those late night broadcasts became coming home dances. For a moment to me that was a beautiful world. Radio Days. Glenn miller and his orchestra playing live lifting spirits. A beautiful world that must had been for that moment. To be alive and to be appreciative of every second God Has given you.
By La Regina💗Kallie Venturini❤️4 days ago in Poets
Miss Persephone's Manual to a Seemingly Ordinary Life
Miss Persephone was found at the dining table, her blue eyes swollen, her tears arriving and retreating like the tides of the ocean. Earlier that day, her family had visited her in the retirement home where she had lived for eight years. It was her eightieth birthday.
By Imola Tóth6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Lovely