Some people think God is imaginary and I can’t blame them because when I ltalk about our relationshp with me–it sounds very unreal. He’s always been there for me, yet I’ve never physically met him, yet. I find His words in His books I get a sense of His character, I feel the comfort when I cry out to him. But other people say, how is it different from a book character?
Cierra
world peace
true love
living my dreams
imaginary
but what is life
sans these hopes
drudgery
it is imagination
that gives us pulse
alasthepoetwarrior
Somewhere on the cusp of reality and fantasy is another person whom I love with all my heart.
Sure, I accept that he — or she — or they — are imaginary, but it doesn’t stop them from loving them any more. I can feel the softness of their body, the warmth of their skin, the affection. I don’t know if it’s because I’m longing for real connection or if it’s because I like the idea of living in fantasy.
From across the room, she had already written their lives together. How he would hold her around the waist from behind while she was washing dishes. How she would cover him with a blanket when he fell asleep in front of the TV. How they would fight and spar and make passionate, wild sex the norm of their lives. Her imagination was a pleasant place to live.
Imaginary. Thats what they said Tommy was to me.
“No” I’d cried out indignantly “He’s real, he’s as real as you and me.”
Then I’d turned to my father “You saw him. You talked to him.”
He hung his head shamefully. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, aghast. Surely what he was saying couldn’t be true. Sure, I had been younger, of the age where it was acceptable to have imaginary friends. But he was as vivid as any real person. What was real, anyway. Who defines reality? My parents? Is reality
Once there was an imaginary dragon. This dragon wasn’t Pete’s dragon, or anyone’s dragon, really. He just was.
He wanted to go and do, and fly and be the best dragon he could be, but he didn’t want to belong to anyone, and as any dragon knew, in order to be seen, one was to be defeated. That wasn’t the life that he wanted, and so he just slept. He sat on a pile of jewels, and decided that being the best wasn’t really worth being owned.
Riz
the man she wanted , she thought he was imaginary . the girl he wanted , he thought she never existed . both met , and imagination became reality .
go into all the world and preach the gospel. go forward. go where you are afraid. G-O are the first two letters of God and gospel. We are not meant to be standing still. We should go and preach the good news to all people. God challenges us to go and preach the gospel.
Is everything. Particularly for me.
But is it alright if we treat it that way?
po-int
i used to have a imaginary friend. we played in the pond by the edge of town. He would teach me how to skip stones because i never knew how to do it. Until one day i finally did it but he wasnt there that day.
john
imaginary house. a ginergerbread house that you could live in. even if you were an adult. you could hide there when you felt like being a child, sitting in the foetal position, hugging your legs up to you. because they had left. Tom had left. and life wasn’t worth it anymore. i wanted to go back to being a child now.
I love to imagine. I love to pretend some people say. But it is much more then that. It is an escape from the real world. It’s a way to make your world cool and your own. It is so beautiful you can add your own twist and still come back down to your family.
I first met my imaginary friend by a rickety wooden bridge right next to my old high school campus. No, I was not one of the children, frolicking around with a companion that no one could see. No, I was a sad and lonely twenty-something whose had a daydreaming complex so vast that reality seemed boring by comparison. My imaginary friend was quite the charmer. Her name was Genevieve, and she wore a form-fitting suit with a red evening jacket.
Some people think God is imaginary and I can’t blame them because when I ltalk about our relationshp with me–it sounds very unreal. He’s always been there for me, yet I’ve never physically met him, yet. I find His words in His books I get a sense of His character, I feel the comfort when I cry out to him. But other people say, how is it different from a book character?
world peace
true love
living my dreams
imaginary
but what is life
sans these hopes
drudgery
it is imagination
that gives us pulse
Somewhere on the cusp of reality and fantasy is another person whom I love with all my heart.
Sure, I accept that he — or she — or they — are imaginary, but it doesn’t stop them from loving them any more. I can feel the softness of their body, the warmth of their skin, the affection. I don’t know if it’s because I’m longing for real connection or if it’s because I like the idea of living in fantasy.
From across the room, she had already written their lives together. How he would hold her around the waist from behind while she was washing dishes. How she would cover him with a blanket when he fell asleep in front of the TV. How they would fight and spar and make passionate, wild sex the norm of their lives. Her imagination was a pleasant place to live.
Imaginary. Thats what they said Tommy was to me.
“No” I’d cried out indignantly “He’s real, he’s as real as you and me.”
Then I’d turned to my father “You saw him. You talked to him.”
He hung his head shamefully. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, aghast. Surely what he was saying couldn’t be true. Sure, I had been younger, of the age where it was acceptable to have imaginary friends. But he was as vivid as any real person. What was real, anyway. Who defines reality? My parents? Is reality
writing during break again. I’ll try some Francais.
Les gens, egoistes
ils veulent tout choses facile
aussi, e’chapper
penser pas, faire pas
cacher de realite
dans l’imaginaire
Haiku in French is tougher, but Spanish or Italian with the many extra syllables
is much worse.
‘
optimistic views
are usually only
IMAGINARY
wanting of world peace
when all lives are not happy
simply can not be
To guard and preserve
cherished things, sans all fighting
a concept absurd
where there are people
and merely one difference
War, will be present
pessimistic views
rooted in reality
when in solving used
while not as happy
will achieve actually
some helpful results
“Hello there!”
“Hi!” I replied.
It is nice to be greeted in the mornings.
I love waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and sunshine.
Sitting at my couch, I turned to my imaginary friend and smiled.
Life has been lonely. But lovely.
Once there was an imaginary dragon. This dragon wasn’t Pete’s dragon, or anyone’s dragon, really. He just was.
He wanted to go and do, and fly and be the best dragon he could be, but he didn’t want to belong to anyone, and as any dragon knew, in order to be seen, one was to be defeated. That wasn’t the life that he wanted, and so he just slept. He sat on a pile of jewels, and decided that being the best wasn’t really worth being owned.
the man she wanted , she thought he was imaginary . the girl he wanted , he thought she never existed . both met , and imagination became reality .
go into all the world and preach the gospel. go forward. go where you are afraid. G-O are the first two letters of God and gospel. We are not meant to be standing still. We should go and preach the good news to all people. God challenges us to go and preach the gospel.
Is everything. Particularly for me.
But is it alright if we treat it that way?
i used to have a imaginary friend. we played in the pond by the edge of town. He would teach me how to skip stones because i never knew how to do it. Until one day i finally did it but he wasnt there that day.
imaginary house. a ginergerbread house that you could live in. even if you were an adult. you could hide there when you felt like being a child, sitting in the foetal position, hugging your legs up to you. because they had left. Tom had left. and life wasn’t worth it anymore. i wanted to go back to being a child now.
I love to imagine. I love to pretend some people say. But it is much more then that. It is an escape from the real world. It’s a way to make your world cool and your own. It is so beautiful you can add your own twist and still come back down to your family.
I first met my imaginary friend by a rickety wooden bridge right next to my old high school campus. No, I was not one of the children, frolicking around with a companion that no one could see. No, I was a sad and lonely twenty-something whose had a daydreaming complex so vast that reality seemed boring by comparison. My imaginary friend was quite the charmer. Her name was Genevieve, and she wore a form-fitting suit with a red evening jacket.