Prompt: Beautiful African village woman, hyper-realistic, hyper-detailed fantasy art; elegant, intricate, detailed, symmetrical face, accurate anatomy and eyes. no watermark.
Prompt: Out on the West Coast, where the sun sets low,
A salty breeze, and waves that glow,
There's a bluesy rhythm, in the air,
A soulful vibe, beyond compare.
Guitars wail, with a moody tone,
As singers croon, in a melancholy zone,
Tales of heartbreak, love gone wrong,
The West Coast Blues, a heartfelt song.
Drums keep time, with a steady beat,
Bass lines thump, with a pulsing heat,
Horns add flavor, to the groove,
As the West Coast Blues, begin to move.
It's a musical journey, with soulful notes,
From the golden beaches, to the foggy coasts,
A sound that resonates, with emotion deep,
The West Coast Blues, a treasure to keep.
Prompt: A Shetland pony, small and stout,
With a shaggy coat, and a playful snout.
A gentle creature, with eyes so bright,
A pint-sized equine, a pure delight.
With a flowing mane, and a bushy tail,
A tiny steed, that can't help but prevail.
A spunky spirit, and a heart so bold,
A Shetland pony, worth their weight in gold.
They may be small in stature, but not in heart,
A loyal companion, right from the start.
A trusted friend, through thick and thin,
A Shetland pony, a treasure within.
So, whether in the meadows or on the farm,
A Shetland pony, a source of charm.
A beloved companion, so small and sweet,
A tiny equine, that can't be beat.
Prompt: Deep in the heart of Alabama's land,
Roams the White Thang, a legend so grand.
A creature of mystery, ghostly and white,
With eyes that gleam in the moon's pale light.
Its form elusive, a phantom in the night,
Leaving locals curious, with a sense of fright.
Some say it's a beast, half-man, half-beast,
A creature of the wild, a fearsome feast.
But others believe, it's more than meets the eye,
A spirit of nature, that can't be denied.
A protector of the woods, a guardian true,
A mystical being, with powers anew.
The White Thang's tale, passed down with lore,
A legend that echoes from days of yore.
Whispers in the forest, a rustle in the trees,
As the White Thang roams, on silent breeze.
So if you wander in Alabama's wild,
Keep your eyes open, like a curious child.
For the White Thang may appear, in the moon's soft glow,
A legend that continues to ebb and flow.
Prompt: Deep in Pennsylvania's woods so dark,
Lives a creature that's said to embark
On sorrowful journeys with a woeful sound,
The Pennsylvania Squonk, a legend renowned.
Its skin, so mottled and covered in warts,
Hides a creature that's known for its broken heart.
It weeps and wails in the moonlit night,
A sight that fills the woods with its mournful plight.
Some say it's elusive, elusive to find,
A creature that's sad and hard to define.
But those who've heard its pitiful cry,
Know the Pennsylvania Squonk, a legend that can't deny.
With tears that flow like a winding stream,
The Squonk's sadness is more than it may seem.
A melancholic mystery that roams the glade,
The Pennsylvania Squonk, in sorrow, it's laid.
So if you journey to Pennsylvania's wood,
Listen carefully, and you just might be understood.
For the legend lives on, of the Squonk so forlorn,
A creature that's haunted, yet so uniquely adorned.
Prompt: The Valkyrie
In battle fierce, with wings of gold,
A warrior maiden, brave and bold.
A Valkyrie, with spear and sword,
A shield-maiden of the Norseland's fjord.
She rides the skies, on winged horse,
A fierce protector, with unwavering force.
She chooses the fallen, the bravest of all,
To join the ranks of Valhalla's hall.
Her eyes gleam bright, with warrior's fire,
Her heart beats strong, with a valiant desire.
She guides the fallen to their rest,
A Valkyrie's duty, the noblest quest.
With armor gleaming, and courage true,
The Valkyrie fights, to protect and subdue.
A warrior maiden, with strength untold,
A beacon of valor, so brave and bold.
So raise a toast, to the Valkyrie's might,
A fierce protector, in day and night.
Her legend lives on, through tales and lore,
The Valkyrie's legacy, forevermore.
Prompt: In the winter's chill, on a moonless night,
Comes a fearsome beast, with teeth so white.
A creature dark, with horns that curl,
A legend known as the Krampus, a mythic whirl.
With chains that rattle, and bells that clang,
The Krampus stalks, a warning to hang.
For naughty children, with deeds amiss,
The Krampus comes, a punishment's kiss.
His eyes burn red, with fiery rage,
A creature fierce, with a devilish stage.
His claws are sharp, his hooves are strong,
The Krampus' wrath, a force so wrong.
He punishes the wicked, the misbehaved,
A creature feared, yet strangely craved.
He whips with birch, he drags with chain,
The Krampus' justice, a dark refrain.
So heed the tale, of the Krampus' might,
A being feared, with powers so bright.
Beware the winter's night, so cold,
For the Krampus lurks, a legend bold.
Prompt: A voice so sweet, a melody pure,
The Siren's song, a lure to endure.
Her voice carries far, over waves and tide,
A captivating call, impossible to hide.
With golden locks and eyes that gleam,
The Siren's beauty, a mesmerizing theme.
Her voice enchants, with words so smooth,
A spellbinding charm, difficult to prove.
Beware her song, for it is a trap,
The Siren's call, a perilous map.
Her voice, a seduction, to draw you near,
Into the depths, where danger is severe.
Her song may tempt, but it leads to peril,
For the Siren's beauty, a deceptive feral.
Her heart is cold, her intentions dire,
Beware the Siren's call, and her mesmerizing fire.
Stay vigilant, against her spell,
For the Siren's lure, can cast a hell.
Her voice may beckon, but stay steadfast,
Against her enchantment, make your path.
So, sailors heed, and sailors beware,
The Siren's song, a danger rare.
Stay true to course, and stay alert,
Against the Siren's song, stay inert.
Prompt: In the cosmic expanse, a dance so divine,
A rhythm that transcends space and time,
A groove that travels through the stars,
Uniting galaxies, no matter how far.
With beats that pulse and melodies that soar,
A cosmic symphony, forevermore,
A groove that resonates across the sky,
Bringing joy to every planet that passes by.
Alien creatures, and humans alike,
Move to the groove, with steps so light,
A universal language, a cosmic bond,
In the vastness of space, a connection fond.
So let's groove to the rhythm of the stars,
With our feet tapping on celestial bars,
Joining the dance of the galaxies above,
Embracing the magic of the Galactic Groove.
Prompt: Hemera, goddess bright and fair,
With golden rays and radiant glare,
Bringing dawn with your gentle touch,
Banishing darkness, oh, so much!
Born from Chaos, primordial birth,
You bring the world new life and mirth,
Your light awakens Earth each day,
Guiding us with your warmest ray.
From eastern horizon you arise,
Painting the sky with vibrant dyes,
Bringing hope to every heart,
A brand new day, a fresh new start.
Hemera, goddess of daylight's grace,
You light our world with your embrace,
Forever shining, forever true,
With you, each day is born anew.
Prompt: Erebos, god of deepest night,
A shadowed realm devoid of light,
A shroud of darkness, ancient and vast,
From Chaos born, a shadow cast.
A realm of black, where light can't reach,
Erebos, your darkness knows no breach,
A void of silence, profound and still,
A realm that holds a mystic thrill.
In the depths of night, your power lies,
Concealing secrets from mortal eyes,
A realm of mystery, veiled and deep,
Where ancient whispers softly creep.
Erebos, god of the hidden veil,
Your darkness hides a timeless tale,
Enveloping all in your embrace,
A realm where shadows dance in grace.
Though feared by some for your murky might,
Erebos, you hold a mystic light,
A reminder that in darkness, too,
There's beauty and wonder to pursue.
Prompt: Queen of Sheba, fair and wise,
A ruler of the ancient skies,
Her beauty shone with regal grace,
Her wisdom known in every place.
She led her kingdom with great might,
Her rule was just, her heart was light,
Her people flourished under her reign,
As she navigated every pain.
Her wisdom sought by many far,
Her fame spread wide, a shining star,
Kings and queens would come to learn,
From Sheba's queen, so fierce and stern.
Her riches vast, her treasures grand,
Her lands adorned with jewels and sand,
Her throne a symbol of her power,
Her name revered in every hour.
Queen of Sheba, legend told,
Her legacy will never grow old,
Her story etched in history's scroll,
A ruler hailed with heart and soul.
Prompt: The old funeral hearse, solemn and grand,
A somber carriage, for the final stand.
A vehicle of reverence, draped in black,
Carrying loved ones, on their final track.
With curtains drawn, and a mournful air,
The old hearse, a symbol of grief to bear.
Its stately form, a somber sight,
A vessel for the departed, on their final flight.
Its wheels roll slowly, with solemn grace,
As it makes its way, to the final resting place.
A hushed procession, in respectful pace,
As mourners follow, in sorrow's embrace.
The hearse, a somber symbol, of life's end,
A reminder of mortality, around the bend.
A dignified conveyance, for the deceased,
A vessel of honor, that carries the deceased.
Inside, a space of reverence and care,
Where the departed rests, in solemn prayer.
A final journey, to bid farewell,
The old funeral hearse, a mournful bell.
Though sorrow may weigh heavy and deep,
The old hearse, a symbol of dignity to keep.
A tribute to life, and memories held,
A final journey, in a hearse of old.
So let us honor, with solemn respect,
The old funeral hearse, a somber aspect.
A vehicle of reverence, for the departed's rest,
A symbol of farewell, at life's bequest.
Prompt: Standing tall, against the sky,
A relic of the days gone by.
With brick and mortar, weathered and worn,
The old water tower, a structure born.
A sentinel of the past, stoic and grand,
Built to withstand, nature's demand.
A symbol of progress, a feat of engineering,
A source of water, once so endearing.
Its walls now faded, with stories untold,
A witness to history, a landmark bold.
With memories embedded, in every brick,
The old water tower, a nostalgic flick.
A beacon of the town, a landmark true,
A testament to time, and years that flew.
Silent and majestic, it stands alone,
A reminder of a bygone era, now overgrown.
Though its purpose changed, as time moved on,
The old water tower, still stands strong.
A nostalgic relic, with tales to tell,
Of days gone by, and a cherished spell.
So let it stand, in all its glory,
A symbol of resilience, an enduring story.
The old water tower, a part of the town's lore,
A reminder of the past, for evermore.
Prompt: Love should never cause pain, that's for sure,
It should be a treasure, gentle and pure.
It shouldn't bruise, or leave scars behind,
Love should be nurturing, and always kind.
It's not about controlling, or causing fear,
Love should be a haven, always near.
It's not about power, or keeping score,
Love should be selfless, and so much more.
Love should lift you up, make you feel alive,
Not bring you down, or make you strive.
It should be a sanctuary, a safe embrace,
Where you find solace, in every place.
Love should be a partnership, a team,
Built on trust, and a shared dream.
It should be a bond, that's built to last,
A love that's genuine, and unsurpassed.
Love should bring joy, and make you smile,
Not cause you tears, or make you beguile.
It should be patient, understanding and kind,
A love that's gentle, and always aligned.
So, remember this, in matters of the heart,
Love should never hurt, or tear you apart.
It should be a beacon, a guiding light,
A love that's true, and feels just right.
Prompt: Moon rocks, celestial gems,
Gifts from beyond, moon's diadems,
Treasures from a lunar realm,
A glimpse of space's cosmic helm.
Silent witnesses, ages old,
Stories written, yet untold,
Craters, plains, and rocky peaks,
Holding secrets that science seeks.
A marvel of lunar history,
A symbol of human's grandest victory,
Moon rocks, rare and precious find,
Mysteries waiting to unwind.
Prompt: beautiful italian lady in a beautiful bright dress strutting down Italian Street at golden sunset, pinup and Gustav Klimt style mixed, highly detailed and intricate, watercolor and black ink, colorful splashes of watercolor for increased interest
Prompt: A mechanical house, so clean and bright,
With gears and levers, whirring in the light,
A marvel of engineering, precision made,
A symphony of metal, a choreographed parade.
Its purpose clear, its task defined,
To conquer dust, and leave no speck behind,
With brushes and filters, and suction strong,
It moves with purpose, all day long.
Its sensors keen, detecting every mote,
In corners and crevices, it nimbly floats,
Navigating with precision, through each room,
Removing debris, like a mechanical broom.
No speck of dust, can escape its sight,
As it glides and maneuvers, with mechanical might,
Sucking up particles, with efficiency supreme,
A dust-free haven, a futuristic dream.
No more sweeping or mopping by hand,
The mechanical house, has taken its stand,
Cleaning with precision, without a fuss,
Leaving no trace, of debris or dust.
A technological wonder, of gears and cogs,
A mechanical marvel, for the dust-prone blogs,
A robot helper, in the modern age,
A mechanical house, turning the page.
So, let us celebrate, this wondrous machine,
Prompt: Nursing the hunger, a relentless craving,
Deep within, a sensation worth saving,
A hunger that gnaws, a longing so real,
A primal urge, that's hard to conceal.
It starts with a rumble, a growl in the gut,
A sensation so raw, it can't be shut,
A gnawing feeling, an emptiness inside,
A hunger that can't be denied.
It calls for attention, demands to be fed,
A hunger that can't be ignored or misread,
It nags and persists, with an insistent plea,
A craving that won't let you be.
You seek out sustenance, to satiate the need,
A meal, a snack, to fulfill the feed,
A taste of flavors, a feast for the senses,
Nursing the hunger, with culinary indulgences.
It's not just about the physical need,
But also the comfort, the satisfaction indeed,
A nourishment for the body, a solace for the soul,
Nursing the hunger, makes you feel whole.
In the act of eating, there's a primal connection,
A reminder of life's basic sustenance,
A reminder of our shared humanity,
Nursing the hunger, a universal experience.
So, when the hunger strikes, heed its call,
Savor the flavors, embrace it all,
For in nursing the hunger, there's more than just food,
Prompt: Streaks of color, bold and bright,
Across the canvas, a wild flight.
A landscape captured, surreal, grand,
A painted world, a distant land.
Bold brushstrokes, sweeping lines,
Capturing nature's endless designs.
A masterpiece of light and shade,
A visual symphony, artistry displayed.
From rolling hills to towering peaks,
A world of wonder that the artist seeks.
A dreamscape born from the painter's eye,
A realm of beauty, soaring high.
In every stroke, a story told,
Of nature's wonders, untamed and bold.
A painting that captures hearts and minds,
A timeless escape, for all to find.
Prompt: A ferocious extremist, fueled by rage,
Spreading chaos, with violence as their stage.
Their beliefs, extreme and fanatic,
Leaving devastation, tragic and dramatic.
With zeal and fervor, they seek control,
A twisted ideology, taking its toll.
Their actions ruthless, their motives dire,
Igniting fear, like a consuming fire.
But extremism, it shall not prevail,
For love and peace will always prevail.
We stand united, against the storm,
With compassion and tolerance, our true norm.
So let us rise, with courage bold,
Rejecting hate, and staying untold,
That extremism, with its dark allure,
Will never triumph, as we endure.
Prompt: In a chamber icy cold and still,
Lies a tale that gives both wonder and chills.
A legend whispered, a myth unfurled,
About Walt Disney, and a cryo chamber world.
They say he sleeps, in frozen slumber,
Preserved for future, a futuristic wonder.
His body lies, in a state so deep,
As if awaiting, a time to leap.
A visionaire, a dreamer bold,
Walt Disney's story, often told.
He built a kingdom, of magic and joy,
With characters beloved, that children enjoy.
But some believe, the tale is true,
That Disney's body, rests in icy hue.
A cryo chamber, a frozen tomb,
Awaiting a future, yet to bloom.
A chance to wake, in a world anew,
With technology, to make dreams come true.
A time when science, will conquer death,
And Walt Disney will take his next breath.
But skeptics doubt, this frozen tale,
As mere speculation, a far-fetched detail.
A myth or truth, it's hard to say,
About Walt Disney's cryo chamber, to this day.
So the legend lingers, with questions abound,
Did Disney really, on ice, surround?
A story that captivates, both young and old,
A tale of innovation, yet to be told.
Prompt: Driving down a dark and lonesome road,
A weary traveler, with a heavy load,
Spots a figure standing by the side,
A hitchhiker waiting for a ride.
With a heart of compassion and a sense of grace,
The traveler slows down and stops in place,
Extending a hand with a friendly smile,
Offering a ride for a little while.
The hitchhiker climbs in with a grateful nod,
Sharing a tale of a broken road,
Speaking of lost love and shattered dreams,
The traveler listens, or so it seems.
As they journey on into the night,
The traveler feels a growing fright,
For the hitchhiker's story starts to shift,
Taking on an eerie and ghostly drift.
They reach a destination, a cemetery site,
The hitchhiker points and bids goodnight,
Vanishing into thin air without a trace,
Leaving the traveler in a bewildered haze.
The traveler looks around in fear,
But the hitchhiker is nowhere near,
Just a cold breeze and a haunting chill,
A mystery that remains unfulfilled.
As the traveler drives away in haste,
Wondering if it was a ghost they faced,
A legend of a vanishing hitchhiker told,
A tale that leaves the heart feeling cold.
For it's said that on that desolate road,
Prompt: Beware the legend of the Red Room curse,
A tale of darkness, a story perverse,
A room painted red, a place of dread,
Where the curse lurks with its vengeful thread.
Once a room of joy and delight,
Now shrouded in mystery, a haunting sight,
Its walls adorned with crimson hue,
But something sinister, it conceals, it's true.
Legends speak of a tragic past,
Of a family cursed, their lives harassed,
By an unknown force, a malevolent power,
That grips the Red Room in its vengeful hour.
Whispers of whispers, voices unheard,
Echo through the walls, a chilling word,
Shadowy figures, spectral in the night,
Dancing in the crimson light.
Those who enter, beware, beware,
For the curse has claimed its victims there,
Lost souls who never returned,
Caught in the Red Room's eerie yearn.
Some say it's a portal to the other side,
Where restless spirits forever abide,
Seeking revenge, seeking release,
From the curse that never seems to cease.
But none can break the Red Room's spell,
For the curse persists, a haunting dwell,
A chilling presence that lingers on,
In the room painted red, long after dawn.
Prompt: Beneath the earth, a treasure waits,
A time capsule, sealed by fates.
A relic from days long gone by,
A glimpse into the past, oh, my!
A box of memories, locked in time,
Preserving moments, pure and prime.
With letters penned in ink and quill,
And faded photos, sepia still.
A snapshot of a bygone era,
Preserved for those who will discover,
The secrets held within its walls,
Tales of triumphs, joys, and falls.
From a time when life was different,
Simple pleasures, hearts more innocent.
A window to the world back then,
A glimpse of where we once had been.
A link between the past and now,
A bridge that spans, a timeless vow.
Reminding us of who we are,
Our roots, our stories, near and far.
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.
