March of the Unreal

By Nolan Dannels

A collection of poetry by Nolan Sahand Dannels, searching through imagination through imagery and ethereal phrasing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257509461

Book preview

me.

Early Poetry

The Dove

The white dove opened its wings and began to fly

I saw the white dove soar in the midnight sky

I looked closer and noticed the dove wink at me

I rubbed my eyes and opened them again and said, Whee!

I saw what the dove saw during its flight

I was intrigued because of the extreme height

I slowly looked down

The next thing I saw was the color brown

Then I saw the color white

It was a dove flying to me with all its might

The dove was coming to me

And then it went right through me

Then I realized the reason for all of this

It was a reason I should not miss

I saw the dove

Because that is what I love

The Phoenix

It circled round and round

Without making a sound

Without a hint of where it was bound

With skill and cleverness worth being crowned

With a mind that can never be found

It finally flew down and stood on a mound

With a gentle disposition, it weighed less than a pound

Again and again it circled round and round

'Twas the phoenix of the dirt mound

The Butterfly

There it was with beauty and grace

Its magnificence the greatest I will ever face

With eyes that looked like stone

The most interesting eyes I have ever known

It looked at me with a piercing glare

It was something I could not bear

It flew towards me

It seemed to do so with glee

The butterfly hovered above my head

The next thing it did was it said,

Do you want to see the Valley of the Butterfly?

I thought for a moment and then took a sigh

I said, What is there?

It answered, A butterfly that is rare.

The butterfly knew I wanted to go

We began to move to and fro

Then we started spinning

The light was dimming

I saw a vast valley full of green

It was another graceful thing I have seen

I saw the butterfly that was rare

I gave it an intent stare

It was the color yellow

However, it seemed mellow

What is the matter?

Instead of an answer it made a vibrant chatter

What was that?

The butterfly then seemed to say, Drat!

The other butterfly communicated with me

It said the yellow butterfly was making a plea

It was asking if it could come live with me

I answered, Fine with me.

The Frightened Man

A man emerged from the abyss

His name was Mr. Astryss

He walked from dark alley to dark alley

With hope of avoiding what he wanted to miss

He feared his own dreams

He avoided light and streams

For they caused him to imagine

His own screams

His dreams were very bleak

They made him weak

He thought about calling for help

And realised people would call him a freak

The terror spread

He felt a greater dread

And felt that he was defeated

By a part of him that was already dead

March of the Unreal

March of the Unreal

March! On and on!

Fly to the reality that we spit upon!

Swim through shadows

and advance through meadows

Just to find a piece

of the reality we dream of

But we could see life only as it seems

If only reality was a dream

And because of grim fate,

We have dreams of having dreams

But we march to reality

For something that we already are

Arcane

Amongst the infinite mood

lies the visual verisimilitude

The iridescent hallucination of the insane

is the essence of a dream arcane

Within the fate of an empire

there is the will to conspire

And that will shall become the secret reign

of the proud monarch arcane

The silence awaits for the death of a dream

and an echo is heard from a profound scream

Because of this, a scavenger shall remain

one that is known as the vulture arcane

The cries shall die in a perpetual sunset

and