Imagination Poem Novels & Stories

He went on, "You said before, that's how you imagine a view." Imagine the view, I tried that too, but he was in front of me and I couldn't create Lily's view in my head. I see his face. "After a while, your head tilts like a robot." Robot? Weird but I did it. I created a background behind him in my mind and that's full of flowers. "And you close your eyes just so that your imagination is clear in the image you are going to paint."

At least I could do without the tension she brought with her. Setting my mind to appear before me as clean slate, I tried to picture light. The disappointment came when I could only envision something as little as a tiny white dot on a blackboard. "Don't you give up! It's your imagination, do with it as you want." She echoed from somewhere behind me. And I fought, taking that encouragement in hand, to create something out of the light. The light flickered for a while in my mind, threatening to disappear. It was difficult when thoughts began to creep in. What was I to do?

I tap him on the arm. "Silly!" I can almost hear the music. Come with me, and you will be In a world of pure imagination Take a look, and you'll see Into your imagination We will begin with a spin Traveling in the world of my creation What we'll see will defy Explanation “Do you notice some big difference, hazelnut?” I look at everything again. Everything I'd seen many times before, but never lit me up as much as it does now. Curiosity is splendid! It took man to the moon and me into this room, wanting to be tied up by the man I'm in love with.

“Since you’re still a pothink, you’ll need to concentrate more. Close your eyes. Picture the object clearly. Transform it into something vivid—something you can see in your mind.” I nodded, shutting my eyes. I imagined sampaguita. I pictured the delicate white petals and how they curled gently outward. A strange weightlessness spread through me. The fatigue lifted, and for a moment, I felt calm. Everything felt clear. But the sensation passed almost as soon as it came. I opened my eyes. The pebble was gone. In its place rested a perfect, snow-white flower. “Oh my God… Did I just—” I broke off, staring at the flower.

" Emily writhed and blushed again. Why couldn't she have seen that herself? Any goose could have seen it. "Sail onward, ships--white wings, sail on, Till past the horizon's purple bar You drift from sight.--In flush of dawn Sail on, and 'neath the evening star-- Trash--trash--and yet there's a picture in it-- Lap softly, purple waves. I dream, And dreams are sweet--I'll wake no more-- Ah, but you'll have to wake if you want to accomplish anything. Girl, you've used purple twice in the same poem.

“Now imagine that a small flame is growing in the middle of my hands. Imagine it growing from every breath, and every beat of your heart. Imagine it warming your skin as it flows through the strings flowing up your spine before slowly growing in the middle of your hands.” I do as he instructed, a little shaken on the thought of fire growing between my hands, but remembering that I couldn’t see it. And thus, the illusion that it would harm me doesn’t exist. As I release each breath I imagine a small flame growing in my mind, it starts shaky and dies out at first but I try again.

It begs her to fly to something that provides her with warmth and safety , but as if she is deaf to her thoughts she continues her journey to the end of her life. It’s the imagination of hers that drives her ; the imagining of the way the fire will feel against her body. She imagines the dancing flame latching onto her body , giving her sweet punishable pleasure. The thought of giving the flame exactly what it wants , makes the butterflies in her fly much more chaotic than before.

Tomorrow, I'd be visiting the flooded packs, moving around with a boner isn't a fate I'd gladly sign up for. When I grabbed my shaft to get to work, I shut my eyes and there she was in my imagination. I was thrusting inside of her, and she was welcoming each thrust with her enchanting screams of pleasure. And she was here, on my bed, naked. I hadn't realized how lost I'd been in my imagination until I felt the hot slimy substance on my hand. I opened my eyes to my cums spewed in different directions in the bathroom. I leaned against the wall, shutting my eyes again, deciding to live in my imagination through the night. Because somehow, I fancied it more than my reality. In my imagination, we

Even now, thinking about it gives me goosebumps. When he finished, I asked him to play it again, and this time I closed my eyes. I bobbed my head to a silent beat and let my imagination take me away. I saw a city emerge from the shadows of my mind, a bright golden palace built from impossible stone structures filled with holes. Towers jutted outward at angles which made no sense, and as I stood on that far-off vista, I realized the city was moving, breathing, whispering to me. Take off your mask, it said. Take off your mask. “So what do you think?”

Never before had my mind been so bereft, a barren wasteland where thoughts dared not venture. The words hung in the air, like a suspended melody that refused to resolve. They swirled in the hollow caverns of my consciousness, echoing wildly in my mind and defied comprehension. ‘No… could it be my imagination?’ I thought to myself. Those words… they were like a twisted mirage, a phantom whisper conjured by the capricious whims of my imagination? ‘Ya, hah! Surely, my ears had deceived me,’ I started to say. Yet, as the weight of those words settled upon my soul, doubt gave way to a fragile hope…. a hope that was like a bud waiting to form into a flower in the embrace of spring.