Prompt: He halted in the wind, and — what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.
“Oh, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom,” I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
had we but in us to assume in march
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.
We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year’s leaves.
Prompt: The rain to the wind said,
‘You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
Prompt: If tolling bell I ask the cause.
'A soul has gone to God,'
I'm answered in a lonesome tone;
Is heaven then so sad?
That bells should joyful ring to tell
A soul had gone to heaven,
Would seem to me the proper way
A good news should be given.
Prompt: I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
When the landlord turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!
Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!
Prompt: God gave a loaf to every bird,
But just a crumb to me;
I dare not eat it, though I starve,--
My poignant luxury
To own it, touch it, prove the feat
That made the pellet mine,--
Too happy in my sparrow chance
For ampler coveting.
It might be famine all around,
I could not miss an ear,
Such plenty smiles upon my board,
My garner shows so fair.
I wonder how the rich may feel,--
An Indiaman--an Earl?
I deem that I with but a crumb
Am sovereign of them all.
Prompt: I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.
'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.
I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.
The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.
Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.
Prompt: Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true truelove
And the New-year will take ‘em away.
Old year you must not go;
So long you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.
He froth’d his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho’ his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho’ his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I’ve half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o’er.
To see him die across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he’ll be dead before.
Every one for his own.
Prompt: Near Clapham village, where fields began,
Saint Edward met a beggar man.
It was Christmas morning, the church bells tolled,
The old man trembled for the fierce cold.
Saint Edward cried, “It is monstrous sin
A beggar to lie in rags so thin!
An old gray-beard and the frost so keen:
I shall give him my fur-lined gaberdine.”
He stripped off his gaberdine of scarlet
And wrapped it round the aged varlet,
Who clutched at the folds with a muttered curse,
Quaking and chattering seven times worse.
Said Edward, “Sir, it would seem you freeze
Most bitter at your extremities.
Here are gloves and shoes and stockings also,
That warm upon your way you may go.”
The man took stocking and shoe and glove,
Blaspheming Christ our Saviour’s love,
Yet seemed to find but little relief,
Shaking and shivering like a leaf.
Said the saint again, “I have no great riches,
Yet take this tunic, take these breeches,
My shirt and my vest, take everything,
And give due thanks to Jesus the King.”
The saint stood naked upon the snow
Long miles from where he was lodged at Bowe,
Prompt: Being walkers with the dawn and morning,
Walkers with the sun and morning,
We are not afraid of night,
Nor days of gloom,
Nor darkness–
Being walkers with the sun and morning.
Prompt: I cannot bring myself to speak his name,
The one who caused me so much pain,
He lurks in the shadows of my mind,
A constant reminder of what he left behind.
I try to move on, to let go of the fear,
But his presence lingers, always near,
I pray for strength to face my past,
To break free from his hold at last.
But until then, I'll keep him at bay,
And strive to live my life each day,
For though he tried to tear me down,
I refuse to let him wear the crown.
Prompt: Paysage de campagne en automne, Ciel d'orage, Coucher de soleil, Floralies, Bleuets, coquelicots, Insectes volants, Chemin de terre, Couleurs d'automne, Paysages vallonnés, Tableau, Peinture originale, Huile au couteau, Hiver, Peinture à l'huile avec coulées, W . Siudmak.
Prompt: Lady of the Lake, Ghostly, Full Body Length, Head-to-Toe, Standing By Water, Surrounded Lite Mist, Ancient Greek, Semi-Nude, Healthy, Strong, blue Eyes, Windswept pale blond Hair, Flowing Starry Cloak, Clear Gossamer Tunic, Clear Wrap-Skirt, Detailed Opal Torc, Detailed Rings, Fantasy Glade, Beautiful Flowers, Mystic Mushrooms, Evening time, Moon, Stars
Prompt: Colorful Zentangle art style, child wandering into a magical cave, optical illusion, surreal, dynamic lighting, a masterpiece, elegant, detailed background.
(Original prompt and modifiers by mojunktion)
Prompt: Purple skies at dusk,
Fire in the air,
Smoke on the water,
A scene so rare.
Guitars start to play,
A rhythm in my heart,
Memories flood my mind,
A masterpiece from the start.
The notes are haunting,
The melody sublime,
Smoke on the water,
A song for all time.
The music takes me away,
To a place I've never been,
Smoke on the water,
A timeless win.
Prompt: Creative mind, the last attempt, a beautiful still life with fossils and plants in a forest shrine, everything breaks into small pieces, end of all things, bokeh, timeless eternity, complementary colors, Depicted in an Eerie oppressive oil painting by Greg Rutkowski, James Earley, Mark Metcalfe, Darek Zabrocki, Gilles Beloeil, Neil Blevins, Anne Stokes, surrealist style, fine art, fine brush strokes, detail oriented, over detail, scary, oppressive, a masterpiece, old work of art, oil on canvas, perfect composition, Art of Illusion 3D shading, hyperdetailed, ZBrush, cel-shaded, golden ratio
Prompt: Street scene after the thunderstorm, damaged vintage cars buried under trees, in the rain, flood, splashing water drops, by Jean-Baptiste Monge, Ivan Bilibin, Albert Bierstadt, Reza Badrossama, watercolor ink, pencil sketch, splash art, intricate details, fantasy, beautiful, oil on canvas, award winning, imperial colours, fantastic view, radient colours, very attractive, crisp quality
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
