The scarlet mountain
Hangs in the sky
The scarlet mountain
Lies
Through the blood
Of the mountain
All of us
Relate
This is the place
Dreams instantiate
Where the scarlet mountain
Dwells in the clouds
That is where
Hope flies
In response to the daily prompt Relate
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
The compass has no compassion
The waves care not
The road goes on forever
Whatever your feet yearn
Rest is not an option
For the currents will always win
Only those that fly
Will win
In response to the daily prompt Compass
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
The giant sun burns slow
Swells red and bloated, gassing
It’s life into space
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #180 Slow&Burn
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
From the unimaginable
Power
Of supermassive black holes
To the delicate
Dance of quarks
It all contains
Elegance
Beautiful and precise
In the conclusion of horror
And the breaking of joy
The shining of rain
And the sweep of the dune
From the swell of the tide
And the retreat
Elegance
Rules
In response to the daily prompt Elegance
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting, #postaday
Defying downing gravity
To delight in dazzling dance
Shimmering, shining sparkles
Showering tiny tears
In response to the daily prompt Sparkle
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting, #postaday
Brass gleams, drips with steam
Flaring in a beam of light
Driving on the wheel
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #179 Flare&Steam
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
Daring the currents
Of the rare higher airways
Bold the eagle flies
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #178 Bold&Daring
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
A piece of me is demanded
Every waking moment of my life
One day the critical piece
Will be withdrawn
And the inevitable
Tumble will come
The final fall
The end of the game
In response to the daily prompt Tenterhooks
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting, #postaday
Age is the revealer
It strips away the lies
And wears us down
With harsh reality
Pares us to the bone
In response to the daily prompt Age
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting, #postaday
Waiting on tenterhooks
For the next Big Idea
The next Winner
The next Wedding
The next Divorce
The next Leader
The next Messiah
For some
Just
The Next Sale
In the meantime
We are bled
And the fruits of our labours
Snuck out of the back door
In response to the daily prompt Tenterhooks
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting, #postaday
This is the age of reason
Apparently
What reason then
Behind the starving child
Tortured by hunger pains
What reason
Behind the women
Sold as toys
What reason
The stockpiling and use
Of weapons of blood
One reason
One alone
That pounds every moment
Of our lives
In response to the daily prompt Age
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting, #postaday
Snippet
Clip it
Crimp it
Crumpets
Strumpets
Trumpets
The clear, pure note of a trumpet
Filling expectant silence
With celebration
In response to the daily prompt Snippet
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting
The sparrows scatter the pine cones
Down the valley and down
The salmon are jumping the ladders
The bears are shiny and brown
The river digs through the mountain
Too deep to hold any sin
The current rolls over and over
As ruins come tumbling in
Deep in the widening desert
Rumbles mistakes from the past
Mad birds scatter their debris
The light is shattered and cast
The stars shine high in the nighttime
Burning the rocks bare below
Melting resolve of the greatest
Like newly laid snow
Darkness pushes the light
Further and further apart
Stillness covers the chaos
Silence claims every heart
#iamwriting
Time is a one way street
There is no going back
A Saturday now is not a Saturday then
Monday morning comes again
Time drips
Dreams trip
Words will see us through
In response to the daily prompt One Way
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting
The scrabble for the dream
Prevents the dream
As we fill every moment
Chasing here and there
To get things done!
We never stop to ask
Why
The things we are chasing
We will never have time for
As we are too busy
Chasing
Mankind and I
Have become
Empty husks of purpose
#iamwriting
The percussive beat
Of a heart pounding with life
Stilled by quick, sharp teeth
In response to the daily prompt Percussive
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting
The underdogs are many
Trampled underfoot
While they fetch and roll
And play dead
Until the day
They remember
They are
Wolves
And the pack arises
In response to the daily prompt Underdog
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting
White swan flies over
Broken, crumbling, old stone bridge
River rolls on by
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #176 Broken&Over
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
A touch of madness
In the powerful is wrong
But in the writer…
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #172 Wrong&Touch
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
The lake’s smooth surface
Is as calm and still as glass
Perfect winter’s ice
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #171 Lake&Calm
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
The smallest of crumbs
Of hope keep us all trying
Generating cash
In response to the daily prompt Crumb
#DailyPrompt #iamwriting
The gate swings
Welcoming those who have come
Waving to those who have gone
The wear on the paint
Remembrance
Painting it over
Will not erase the memory
In response to the daily prompt Gate
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting
I wandered lonely as a brick
That sinks and dives in stream and lake,
When all at once I was so sick,
And an awful mess I did make.
Beside the lake, beneath the trees.
Splattering my stomach in the breeze.
It must have been the bread I had
Or maybe that old Milky Way.
This puddle of sick smelt so bad
Along the margin of the bay.
Ten pints I had drunk, at a guess.
Tossing my head, I felt a mess.
The waves in my head danced, and they
Dashed my weak legs from under me.
A poet could not be so gay
As the one who stood over me.
He gazed and gazed and then in glee
Threw up and fell down next to me.
Next morn when on my couch I lay
In vacant and in pensive mood.
I swore I’d give up drink that day.
And swore some more, it was quite rude.
But soon, once more, the cider spills.
I’ll sleep again with daffodils.
In response to the daily prompt Dash
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting
Words slurred
Danger
Thoughts blurred
Danger
Moral smudged
Danger
Figures fudged
Danger
Modern life
In response to the daily prompt slur
#DailyPrompt
Let the rhythm of the future
Not be
The rhythm of the past
Let us change it
Though the task be hard
And let it be
Beautiful
Let it be vast
Lest it be elegant
And true
In response to the daily prompt Rhythmic
#DailyPrompt
The glitterati glitter
While the paparazzi pack
Lines full of lies and libel
To shore up the moral we lack
The world wide web weaves wonders
Hyperlinks hypnotise
The people they rage and thunder
Swallowing all of the lies
So watch the things that glisten
Watch the lustre and shine
And remember that nobody listens
Any of the time
In response to the daily prompt Glitter
#DailyPrompt
A lukewarm life
Mine could be considered
Is that a bad thing?
Or maybe
The heat
Is deep and concealed
Who can tell?
In response to the daily prompt Lukewarm
#DailyPrompt
Futility, the child of awareness
Perhaps ignorance is bliss
Not a choice I would make
Action begins in awareness
Except in rivers and clouds
In response to the daily prompt Aware
#DailyPrompt
Do not lightly discard them
with tales of the foolish bold.
They sat for weeks, for months, for years
in trenches freezing cold.
Sometimes feet simply mouldered
in the sucking mud.
And now and then they’d rise and run
and spill their loyal blood.
Do not belittle the suffering
of soldiers now long dead.
With nothing but talk and songs and bombs
bursting in their head.
Bound together with chains of love
shattered by leaden death.
They ended as they had begun
with cries upon their breath.
Do not lightly remember them
with only paper flowers.
they faced the fear, the pain, the cold,
for hours and hours and hours.
They ran together and fell alone
upon those foreign fields.
Protecting those they loved
those frightened human shields.
Do not read these words and think
that these things are passed.
Do not think you will not hear
that deep and dreadful blast.
Do not sit in decadence
and take for granted peace.
You owe a debt to those who died
and that debt will never cease.
It’s hard to be heard in the herd
The shared shards of pain shred
The glass glistens but no one listens
To the words of bards and the birds
Yes, it’s hard to be heard
In response to the daily prompt Heard
#DailyPrompt
Clean sweep
Clean start
Clean up
On a clean page
Clean sheet
Clean bill of health
Don’t they know?
Things grow in dirt.
In response to the daily prompt Clean
#DailyPrompt
Behind every poem in “The Well of Sunken Dreams” lies a story, an image, or an idea that has haunted me. Inspiration comes in unexpected forms: fragments of dreams, the fleeting beauty of nature, the aching feeling of memories, and the shadowed corners of the imagination. This collection is as much a reflection of my own inner world as it is an offering to you, the reader, to see where it leads you. If you’re intrigued by the source of inspiration, step into “The Well of Sunken Dreams” and see what stirs.
There’s a magic in poetry that lingers long after the last word. In “The Well of Sunken Dreams“, I’ve aimed to craft poems that stay with you, echoing back as whispers from deep within. It’s an exploration of poetry as an experience—a dance between reader and verse. I hope each line will spark reflection and resonance, inviting you to come back and find new meaning each time. Are you ready to let these words sink into your thoughts?
“The Well of Sunken Dreams” is a collection inspired by what lies beyond the ordinary. Each poem invites the reader to ponder the unseen—the untold stories of our hearts, minds, and dreams. These poems traverse themes of longing, nostalgia, and the eerie beauty of the unknown. Are you curious to explore the boundaries between reality and reverie? This collection might be exactly what you’re searching for.
In a world of chaos, poetry offers a sanctuary—a place where emotions find depth and meaning. “The Well of Sunken Dreams” isn’t just a poetry collection; it’s an invitation to dive beneath the surface, where words unlock hidden worlds. Every poem in this collection opens a portal to the landscapes of introspection, love, loss, and mystery. If you’re looking for poetry that resonates with your deepest emotions, I invite you to take a dip into these waters and explore. What dreams might you unearth?
Sleek and seductive
A scent that teases and tempts
The fried egg sizzles
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #108 Sizzle&Sleek
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
Cherry petals float
On the tumbling mountain streams
Kingfishers heart beats
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #120 Heart&Petals
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
Albatross hovers
High over surf scattered sand
All will pass in time
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #113 Beach&Time
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
Flower of the vale
Sings to the sky in her joy
Spirits often do
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #106 Sing&Flower
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
As the journey grows
On, from moment to moment
We feel time passing
In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #105-Time&Grow
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge
Not all ghosts can be seen – some can haunt a mind – and drive it to horror.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
An introverted woman, living in isolation in a valley is plagued by mysterious and frightening occurrences from beyond a grave – but behind the fear is something else reaching out.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
The victim of rape gets revenge in the cold icy heights of the mountains.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
A group of teens on an illicit camping trip discover a strange school of curious children. Their scorn leads them into a nightmare that no one will believe.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
A reckless affair leads a man to start seeing strange and unbelievable sights. The truth behind them freezes and breaks his heart.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
A group of teens, high on bravado, tempt fate by reading Ghost Stories in an abandoned church, and regret it.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
A group of lost spirits are brought together with a mutual love of the stage. Their director stages an extraordinary showing of a play with the unwitting help of a living actor.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
The atrocities of sailors upon the inhabitants they deride as savages suffer revenge and horror beyond their comprehension and one, alone is cursed to tell the tale over and over.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
An activist trying to stop a new development and the project manager desperate to foil her stumble on something otherworldly that sheds new light on the whole plan. Ancient forests reach out for remembrance.
Read more in Thirteen Tales: A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Others are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 