This is a poem that I wrote recently about a bad dream that I had, that was painfully vivid and caused me to wake up in a bit of a panic. I often have these vivid dreams, but this one was particularly intense emotionally and inspired this poem.
This is still one of the strangest and most important things that has ever happened to me. In a dream that I had a woman very clearly whispered, "It was only Irita who bothered to cry" into my ear. The next day, I wrote it down. A few weeks later, I wrote the poem. I then converted the poem into a short song. I then incorporated it briefly into my second novel, "Arisen from Bygones". As of late, I have been delving ever deeper into the meaning behind the whisper.
This is a poem about having a nameless inspiration. I often write about a nameless her, romantic poetry inspired by no one in particular, and this is about that concept.
This is a poem I wrote about how more often than not I find myself lost in the fantasies of daydreams, books and movies, and the worlds of my own writing. It is there that I find love, find peace, and find hope.
This is a poem I wrote a few weeks ago after a vivid dream I had about somehow who has haunted my dreams for far too long. It is essentially a sequel to my poems "The Librarian" and "The Shelves of Time".
This is an excerpt from my upcoming novel "Forsaken of Silence" which will be Book III in my novel series, "Troika".