Within here,
I'm a rock star,
playing to stadium crowds.
Fans singing along
to my self penned tunes.
Or an enigma
full of mystery and intrigue.
The press can't define
or categorize me.
Then a scientist,
discovering sort after cures.
Bringing hopes to the masses,
extending their lives.
Now I'm running,
up front of a marathon crowd.
My heart beating fast,
spurred on by the crowd.
An explorer,
visiting far of lands.
Where no human has been
or seen before.
A photographer,
catching the perfect shot.
As the two suns rise over the distant shore
and the giant siliquant tree stands tall.
This picture would look great on anyones wall.
I'm an artist,
a tramp.
I'm rich,
I'm poor.
I have been all these things
and I will be more.
For if you let your imagination run wild.
You can be anything for a while.
Learn more about this author, Beef Frankland.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
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Imagination running wild, like a happy little child.
A million balloons for my birthday surprise,
My name in writing, up
Winged slippers of fantasy,-
more fleet than any darkness.
In a bound leave your shadow behind,
you'll feel lighter without
Discovery
Reflected upon without sight I see
The universe is but crossing strings;
Streams of particles exploding on touch
by E. A. Wolff
Artist's eyes
Colors of a lucid dream.
A green the shade of envious eyes.
Blue so deep even angels would move quickly to covet.
And
by Paul Roberts
My journey only begins with you by my side.
Every step , every move you are my trusty guide.
To paper with my each and
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Poetry: Imagination
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