A Fantazien Window

Imagination, Neotrepidia, Naturficial Wonder

Whispering Seashells

  • The Empty Train

    The Empty Train

    I get on, I’ve always gotten on,The rusted doors screech open,Empty carriages hollow things,Taking ghosts round in circles,Through the city of the dead,A city that only sleeps and breaks. Once upon a time,This was going somewhere –The now empty train once fullOf dreams and dreamers chattering,Talking wildly of tomorrows,Of the colours and textures of the… Read more

  • Ghosts

    Ghosts

    The blurring hues of yesterday,Dripping serene through my picture,Falling colours of a dream unseen – You wanted to start the lie over,But that tired world has ever been,All the magic from the endless well,Has dried her up like a dizzy spell,These sands of time now must look,Like torn and lost pages of a story –Once… Read more

  • Collage Degrees

    Collage Degrees

    Virginia says I’ve got to be looking out,For the little girl wandering in the valley,Still bringing up water for his sacred cow, Thinks to herself the grass is greener somehow. So she took a ride down to Berkeley square, Where the devil confessed he always played fair, And I mistook a nightingale for a dream,… Read more

  • Falling, Not Flying

    Falling, Not Flying

    This age’s forlorn, my beloved husband –How the wind and the stars played with us,And blew us from our dreams back to life.Our bliss could render the journey eternal,But in that devotion you followed too closelyTo the piper’s song, and danced to fanciful fare.And became as Ramesses to his statues,An afterthought of time beyond wonder.… Read more

  • Desdemona (Little Deaths Too)

    Desdemona (Little Deaths Too)

    Oh my dearest Desdemona,Silence buys a lot these days,Since my girls were overrun,By time and his flogged horses.In this murkwood field of dreams,Ed, if you’re still watching,I’m in the the the greening grass,With my little boy and my little death,Talking to the holes in the ground,Footfalls that never make a sound. Driven fierce under the… Read more

  • Little Deaths

    Little Deaths

    Silence buys a lot these days,Since our girls were overrun,By time and its dead horses In your mirkwood field of dreams –With a little boy and the little death,Talking to holes in the ground,Footfalls that never makes a sound. Driven under the fallen night,Here for the echo of her crime,No part of me wants to… Read more