Prompt: On Daffodil Hill, a sight so bright,
Golden blooms catch the morning light,
They dance and sway in gentle breeze,
A chorus of yellows that truly please.
Their petals flutter, a cheerful hue,
Announcing spring, anew and true,
A burst of sunshine on the ground,
A treasure in nature's canvas, so profound.
As winter fades, and days grow long,
Daffodil Hill bursts into song,
A carpet of joy, a floral thrill,
Nature's masterpiece on Daffodil Hill.
Prompt: Majestic Clydesdales, proud and strong,
With feathered hooves that thump along,
Manes flowing, tails held high,
A sight to behold, beneath the sky.
Massive horses, with muscles grand,
Pulling wagons, across the land,
Their powerful frames, a noble sight,
Guided by skilled hands, both day and night.
With grace and poise, they move as one,
A timeless symbol, beneath the sun,
A tribute to labor, strength, and might,
The Clydesdales, a majestic sight.
Prompt: Coffee black, oh, what a brew,
A morning ritual, so tried and true.
A steaming cup, a deep aroma,
Waking me up, with its java coma.
A sip, a taste, a burst of flavor,
A caffeine kick, I always savor.
Rich and bold, a liquid delight,
Fueling my day, from morning to night.
Whether in a mug or in a to-go cup,
It warms my soul, wakes me right up.
A dark elixir, a morning spark,
Coffee black, my day's first remark.
Prompt: The Bobble Head, a quirky sight to see,
A little figure, nodding happily.
With a wobbly head, and a constant grin,
A tiny toy, that brings a playful spin.
On car dashboards, or office desks,
The Bobble Head, never seems to rest.
Bouncing and bobbing, with every move,
A source of joy, that's hard to prove.
With a spring-loaded neck, and a bouncing head,
The Bobble Head, a nodding thread.
A symbol of fun, a tiny delight,
Bringing smiles, morning, noon, and night.
So, shake it up, and watch it dance,
The Bobble Head, a playful trance.
A nodding companion, a joyful treasure,
Bringing happiness, without measure.
Prompt: In Kentucky, once upon a time,
There lived some folks who spun a rhyme.
The Kelly family, they were known,
For a tale of little green men they'd shown.
In Hopkinsville, on their farm one night,
They saw strange creatures, a puzzling sight.
With big ears and eyes that glowed,
These little beings, an otherworldly ode.
The Kellys fought them, they shot and yelled,
But the creatures left, as if compelled.
The story spread, a local lore,
Of Kelly's encounter with the strange and more.
Were they aliens or just a prank?
The mystery remains, a legend to thank.
The Kelly Little Green Men, a Kentucky tale,
A story that continues to prevail.
Prompt: In Minnesota's winter, a chilling tale,
Of a creature that's feared, a creature so pale.
The Wendigo roams with hunger deep,
A legend that haunts, even in sleep.
With antlers twisted and eyes aglow,
Its icy breath chills the hearts below.
A cannibalistic creature of lore,
Feeding on flesh, a legend to abhor.
The Wendigo's hunger, insatiable and dire,
Leaving a trail of fear, like a frozen fire.
Its wail echoes through the northern woods,
A creature feared, in misunderstood.
Is it a myth or a real-life dread?
A cautionary tale, of a creature unfed.
The Minnesota Wendigo, a legend told,
A chilling mystery, both ancient and bold.
Prompt: Beware the Gorgon, with serpent's hair,
A creature cursed, a sight so rare.
Her gaze, a deadly, petrifying stare,
A visage feared, beyond compare.
With eyes that gleam, with serpents hiss,
The Gorgon's presence, a haunting abyss.
Her snaky locks writhe, with venomous might,
A creature born of darkness and night.
Her face, once fair, now turned to stone,
A cursed fate, forever known.
Her wrath, a force, to be reckoned with,
A being feared, by gods and myth.
A cautionary tale, a warning dire,
To never face the Gorgon's ire.
A creature cursed, a fate so grim,
The Gorgon's legacy, a haunting hymn.
Prompt: In the woods, where silence spoke,
Stood a tree, a grand old oak.
Its branches crooked, leaves now shed,
Beneath its boughs, the spirits tread.
Ghosts of yore, with tales untold,
Whispered secrets, dark and bold.
Their voices echoed in the breeze,
Carrying whispers through the trees.
Legends of battles long ago,
Love lost, and treasures below.
Their sorrow hung in the air,
A haunting melody, a mournful prayer.
But those who listened with open heart,
Found solace in the ghosts' impart.
For in their stories, wisdom dwelt,
Of lessons learned and truths unfelt.
So, if you dare, approach with care,
The ghosts of the old oak, unaware.
Listen close, and you may find,
Answers to questions of heart and mind.
Prompt: Oceanus, Titan god of the sea,
A deity of ancient mythology.
With mighty waves and currents strong,
He rules the ocean, vast and long.
A Titan of power, primordial and old,
With watery realm that's uncontrolled.
His waters stretch from shore to shore,
Endless depths, forevermore.
Oceanus' domain, a world profound,
A kingdom where mysteries abound.
His realm a canvas, ever-changing,
With life and secrets, wide-ranging.
As Titan god, his rule supreme,
A force of nature, a watery dream.
His waters hold the Earth in sway,
A life-giving force that won't betray.
Oceanus, god of the vast blue sea,
A symbol of power, eternal and free.
His name resounds through tales of lore,
A god of oceans, forevermore.
Prompt: Boreas, god of the north wind's might,
A tempest roaring with icy bite,
A force of nature, fierce and strong,
With gusts that howl, and cold that's long.
A bearded deity, ancient and grand,
With frozen breath and icy hand,
You rule the winter's frozen domain,
Bringing frost and snow, in your icy reign.
From icy mountains to frozen seas,
Your power spans across the northern leas,
Your gusts can whip, your chill can bite,
A force of nature, a fearsome sight.
Boreas, god of the icy blast,
Your wintry touch is unsurpassed,
With frozen fingers and icy breath,
You bring the chill of winter's death.
Yet in your strength, there's also grace,
A beauty found in your frozen embrace,
The snowflakes dance in your icy air,
A winter wonderland, so cold and rare.
Boreas, god of the north wind's call,
Your power echoes, through mountains tall,
A deity of winter's icy reign,
We honor you, with awe and acclaim.
Prompt: Zephyrus, god of the western wind,
A gentle breeze, so kind and kindled,
A breath of freshness, a sigh of ease,
Bringing calmness, with a gentle tease.
From realms afar, you sweep with grace,
A messenger of serenity's embrace,
With wings that flutter, in shades of gold,
You paint the skies with beauty untold.
Zephyrus, god of the western gale,
Your whispers soothe, like a tender tale,
Your touch caresses, with a gentle hand,
Bringing tranquility to sea and land.
With rustling leaves and swaying flowers,
You bring to life the earth's verdant bowers,
A chorus of fragrances fills the air,
As you pass by, with a gentle flair.
Zephyrus, god of the gentle breeze,
A harbinger of peace and ease,
In your presence, all is calm and bright,
A moment of stillness, a serene sight.
We honor you, with grateful hearts,
For the tranquility your breeze imparts,
Zephyrus, god of the west wind's grace,
You bring serenity to every place.
Prompt: luxury kitchen apple pie pizza and wine with glasses on the table by Jean-Baptiste Monge, watercolor and ink, intricate details, fantasy, beautiful, award winning, colorful, fantastic view, crisp quality
Prompt: Beneath the moon's soft, silvery glow,
In a teepee made of hides and furs that show,
A dream catcher swings, suspended in air,
With feathers and beads, it's crafted with care.
Its web, intricate and delicate spun,
Catches dreams as they drift, one by one,
Filtering out the nightmares and fears,
Holding on to the dreams that bring cheer.
A guardian of slumber, it hangs above,
Instilling peace, hope, and a sense of love,
Capturing visions, both big and small,
As they dance in the wind, they enthrall.
The Dream Catcher, a symbol of belief,
In dreams that inspire and bring relief,
Guiding us through the night's mystic spell,
Embracing the magic, it weaves so well.
So, as you sleep, dear one, don't you fear,
For The Dream Catcher is always near,
Ensuring your dreams are cherished and kept,
As you rest in its embrace, safely swept.
Prompt: Deep in the Nevada desert, a mystery unfolds,
A place shrouded in secrets, untold,
Area 51, a clandestine domain,
Where the curious minds are left in strain.
Alien theories, conspiracy abound,
Whispers of extraterrestrials, unexplained sound,
Unseen experiments, unknown technology,
Conspiracy theorists in a constant frenzy.
Top-secret tests, classified research,
Hidden away from public's eager search,
High-security fences, guards on patrol,
What lies within, an enigma to unroll.
Speculations and stories, truth or tale?
What mysteries lie beyond the veil?
UFO sightings, unexplained events,
A place where curiosity represents.
But locked in secrecy, it remains,
What goes on behind the guarded chains,
Area 51, a puzzle unsolved,
A realm of wonder, yet unresolved.
So, the intrigue persists, the questions remain,
What truths hide behind the clandestine domain?
Area 51, a riddle in the night,
Shrouded in secrecy, a puzzle of light.
Prompt: The sun sets low, the day is done,
On the golf course, the 18th hole, the final run.
A golfer stands, club in hand,
Eyes on the green, a challenging demand.
A fairway stretched, so lush and green,
A flag waving, a distant scene.
A water hazard, a bunker wide,
The golfer takes a deep breath, ready to stride.
The swing begins, with precision and might,
The ball takes flight, a beautiful sight.
It soars through the air, with grace and poise,
Aiming for the green, the golfer's choice.
The ball lands softly, with a gentle hop,
Rolling towards the pin, a promising stop.
The golfer watches with bated breath,
As it rolls closer, closer to the death.
The ball slows down, teasingly near,
The golfer's heart races, filled with fear.
A final putt, a steady hand,
Guiding the ball, as it obeys command.
The ball drops in, with a satisfying sound,
The golfer grins, victory is found.
The 18th hole, a challenge met,
A moment to treasure, one to never forget.
Cheers and claps, from friends around,
A celebration of success profound.
The golf course fades into the night,
The 18th hole, a memorable sight.
Prompt: Doc Holliday, a name known far and wide,
A gunslinger and gambler, with a swaggering stride.
Born in Georgia, raised in the South,
A man of quick wit, and a skilled gun's mouth.
John Henry Holliday, a dentist by trade,
But the wild frontier was where he played.
With a thin frame and a deadly gaze,
He earned a reputation in those lawless days.
In the town of Tombstone, in Arizona's land,
Doc found himself, with a gun in hand.
He joined the Earp brothers in a feud so grand,
The infamous gunfight at the O.K. Corral, firsthand.
A loyal friend to Wyatt Earp, his comrade in arms,
Doc fought alongside him, facing life's harms.
But his health was failing, tuberculosis took its toll,
A constant battle, taking its toll.
Doc Holliday, a man of contradictions,
A gambler, a fighter, full of convictions.
A legend of the Wild West, a flawed anti-hero,
With a legacy that lingers, even as time's arrow.
His life was short, but his name lives on,
In tales of gunfights and deeds long gone.
A complex figure, a man of his time,
Doc Holliday, forever remembered in Western rhyme.
Prompt: Rays of sunshine, bright and warm,
Glimpses of joy, in life's grand storm.
They pierce through clouds, with golden light,
Chasing away darkness, with all their might.
They kiss the earth, with a gentle touch,
Bringing life to flowers, oh, so much.
They paint the sky, with hues of gold,
A breathtaking sight, to behold.
Rays of sunshine, a gift from above,
Filling hearts with hope and love.
They bring smiles to faces, lift spirits high,
Dispelling shadows, from the sky.
In moments of darkness, they bring light,
Guiding us forward, through the night.
They warm our hearts, with their gentle rays,
Reminding us, of brighter days.
Rays of sunshine, a precious treasure,
Bringing warmth and joy, without measure.
They remind us, in life's uncertain course,
That there is always light, a guiding force.
So let us cherish, these rays so bright,
Embrace their warmth, with all our might.
For in the midst of life's trials and tests,
Rays of sunshine, bring hope and zest.
Prompt: Dear God, my heart sings out to thee
For all the blessings you have given me
Your grace and love, so pure and true
Are the reason I can make it through
In times of trouble I turn to you
And find your peace, so steady and true
Your guidance and wisdom light my way
And help me make it through each day
You are my rock, my refuge and shield
In you alone, my heart is healed
My trust in you, forever strong
For you have been with me all along
May my life be a reflection of thee
And may my actions honor thee
For you alone are worthy of praise
And to you, my heart and soul will raise
Forever and always, I will sing
Of your love, your grace, your everything
For in you alone, my hope is found
And to you, my life is bound. Amen.
Prompt: Oh Lord above, in heaven high,
I lift my voice to you and cry,
For mercy and for love divine,
To fill this heart of mine.
I am but dust, a fleeting breath,
A sinner in the grip of death,
But you, oh God, are full of grace,
And offer me your loving embrace.
Your son, our savior, came to earth,
To show us all our infinite worth,
And by his death and resurrection,
He offers us eternal protection.
So now I bow my head in prayer,
And offer you my heart to share,
With every beat and every breath,
I pledge my love and faithfulness.
Oh God, you are my guiding light,
My hope and strength, my power and might,
In you alone I place my trust,
For in your love, I know I must.
So take my hand, and lead me on,
Through storm and trial, until the dawn,
And at the end of all my days,
I'll sing your praise in endless ways.
Prompt: A city of change, ever-evolving,
A metamorphic marvel, problem-solving.
A skyline that shifts, a landscape in flux,
A symphony of progress, in a rhythmic tux.
From towering skyscrapers, reaching high,
To bustling streets, where people vie,
A metropolis in constant motion,
A testament to human's endless devotion.
Buildings rise and fall, with time,
A metamorphosis, a paradigm.
New ideas take shape, old ones transform,
A dynamic city, a constant swarm.
Innovation blooms, like a vibrant flower,
Adapting to the present, with vision and power.
A melting pot of cultures, ideas, and dreams,
A metropolis that gleams, in its diverse beams.
People come and go, in a whirlwind of change,
A city that grows, in a global exchange.
A beacon of progress, a hub of life,
A metamorphic metropolis, in a constant strife.
But amidst the hustle, the bustle, the pace,
There's still a human touch, a familiar embrace.
A sense of belonging, in the urban sprawl,
A place where hearts connect, and stories enthrall.
Metamorphic metropolis, a living art,
A tapestry of people, each playing their part.
A city that thrives, in its dynamic flow,
A symphony of change, with an ever-glow.
Prompt: With every step I take, my eyes on you,
Your presence captivates, it's undeniably true.
Your grace, your beauty, a mesmerizing view,
My heart races faster, as I draw near to you.
Your eyes, like stars, shining bright and clear,
Hold a universe of wonder, drawing me near.
They're windows to your soul, a deep reflection,
Revealing depths of love, and pure affection.
In your eyes, I see a story of our own,
A love that's written, in a language known.
A tale of passion, of longing and desire,
Igniting flames within me, a burning fire.
When I look into your eyes, time stands still,
The world fades away, it's just you, my thrill.
In your gaze, I find solace, and endless bliss,
A connection so profound, it's pure, and it's this.
So, with my eyes on you, my love so true,
I promise to cherish, and forever pursue.
To hold you close, and never let you go,
For with your eyes on mine, our love will only grow.
Prompt: The St. Bernard, a noble breed,
With heart as big as its size indeed.
A mountain dog, strong and grand,
Known for its courage, throughout the land.
With a thick, double coat of fur,
A droopy face, so kind and pure.
Dark, soulful eyes that seem to say,
"I'm here to help, come what may."
Bred for rescue in the snowy heights,
With instincts keen and trained delights.
A guardian of travelers lost,
Endurance and strength, at any cost.
A barrel of brandy, slung around,
A legendary tale, oft renowned.
To warm the weary and the cold,
A St. Bernard's heart, pure gold.
But not just a rescue dog alone,
The St. Bernard, a loyal home.
A gentle giant, with gentle ways,
A loving companion, all their days.
With a patient nature, calm and kind,
A faithful friend, so hard to find.
A family dog, with love to share,
The St. Bernard, always there.
So, raise a toast to this majestic breed,
A symbol of rescue, courage indeed.
The St. Bernard, a dog so true,
Forever cherished, by me and you.
Prompt: Old Pancho was a humble man,
A farmer with a weathered tan,
He worked his fields from dawn 'til dusk,
With calloused hands, and heart robust.
His eyes were bright, though aged and wise,
A twinkle there, a hint of surprise,
For Pancho knew life's simple grace,
In every sunrise, in each new place.
He plowed his land with mule and plow,
Underneath the hot sun's scorching glow,
With sweat upon his furrowed brow,
He toiled away, no time to slow.
He sowed his seeds with careful hand,
And watched them grow across the land,
He tended them with love and care,
As if they were his children fair.
The rains would come, the winds would blow,
Yet Pancho never ceased to sow,
He worked the land with steadfast might,
From morning's dawn till starry night.
And when the harvest time arrived,
With bounteous crops, he truly thrived,
His heart was full, his soul content,
With nature's gifts, so truly meant.
For Pancho knew the cycle well,
Of planting, reaping, and the swell,
Of life's abundance, ever new,
Renewing hope with each day's view.
So as he walked his fields each day,
With weathered hands and hair of gray,
Prompt: The Last Frontier, vast and wild,
Untamed and rugged, nature's child.
A land of beauty, untouched by man,
A canvas of wilderness, an untamed span.
Snow-capped peaks, piercing the sky,
Endless forests, stretching wide and high.
Rivers roaring, glaciers gleaming,
A pristine landscape, beyond mere dreaming.
Majestic moose, and bears so grand,
Wolves that howl, in a wild land.
Eagles soaring, in the endless blue,
Caribou migrating, a timeless view.
The Last Frontier, a land of wonder,
Where nature's splendor, pulls us under.
A place of solitude, serenity profound,
Where nature's secrets, are waiting to be found.
Adventurers brave, explorers bold,
Seeking treasures, untold and untold.
Challenging landscapes, unpredictable and raw,
Testing limits, awe-inspiring in awe.
The Last Frontier, a reminder true,
Of nature's power, and beauty too.
A call to protect, preserve and keep,
For future generations, a treasure to reap.
Prompt: Beautiful Church in summer, pine tree, flowers, light little clouds Oil on canvas, Vincent Van Gogh, Auguste Renoir, Michael Whelan, Z. L. Feng, thick paint, bright vivid colors 64K, UHD
Prompt: On the vast plains of the wild west,
Roamed a herd of buffalo, at their best.
Majestic beasts, in numbers grand,
A sight to behold, across the land.
Their hooves thundered, as they ran,
A thunderous symphony, a natural plan.
Their shaggy coats, a rugged grace,
A symbol of resilience, in an untamed place.
They grazed on grasses, so lush and green,
A cycle of life, a timeless scene.
Their horns curved, their eyes alert,
A symbol of strength, a primal assert.
In the herd, they found their might,
A community strong, day and night.
They watched out for each other's back,
In unity, they stayed on track.
Through changing seasons, they would roam,
Across wide plains, they'd call their home.
From dawn to dusk, they'd graze and play,
In nature's rhythm, they'd dance and sway.
Their existence, a vital part,
Of the ecosystem, a beating heart.
They shaped the land, their presence known,
A legacy left, widely shown.
But as time passed, their numbers dwindled,
A loss so great, their fate was kindled.
Human progress, and greed's demand,
Disrupted nature's balanced hand.
Now we remember, the herd of old,
Their mighty presence, their story told.
Prompt: An old rusty child's bike, with stories to tell,
Its paint faded, its tires worn, a nostalgic spell,
Abandoned in a corner, forgotten and forlorn,
A relic of the past, weathered and worn.
Once a prized possession, a source of delight,
Ridden with glee, under the sun's warm light,
Adventures in the neighborhood, with friends by your side,
Pedaling with laughter, on a joyful ride.
But time has taken its toll, the rust has set in,
The handlebars crooked, the frame showing its skin,
Its glory days gone, but memories remain,
Of carefree childhood, a simpler terrain.
Perhaps a first taste of freedom, a taste of speed,
A symbol of independence, a childhood need,
A reminder of simpler times, a treasure from the past,
A weathered relic, that continues to cast,
A nostalgic charm, a sentimental grace,
A symbol of resilience, standing in its place,
Though rusty and old, it still holds its charm,
The old child's bike, a memory's arm.
Prompt: A red satin dress, a sight to behold,
A garment of elegance, worth its weight in gold.
Its fabric smooth, with a lustrous sheen,
A symbol of glamour, fit for a queen.
The color red, vibrant and bold,
Like fiery embers, or a tale yet untold.
It catches the light, with a radiant glow,
A dress that commands attention, wherever it may go.
Its silhouette, tailored to perfection,
A flattering cut, a captivating direction.
It hugs the curves, with a graceful flair,
A dress that makes heads turn, and people stare.
Worn with confidence, a statement of style,
A red satin dress, that makes hearts smile.
It exudes allure, and a touch of mystique,
A dress that makes you feel powerful and chic.
Whether it's for a special occasion or a romantic date,
A red satin dress, a choice that's never too late.
It speaks of passion, and a bold sense of fashion,
A dress that leaves an impression, with utmost satisfaction.
So slip into that dress, with poise and grace,
Embrace its beauty, and let it embrace.
For a red satin dress, a timeless treasure,
A symbol of elegance, and a fashion pleasure.
Prompt: The old wood stove, a timeless treasure,
Bringing warmth to hearts without measure.
Its cast iron frame, a sturdy frame,
Holds memories of a bygone flame.
Through long winter nights it roared,
Filling the room with heat adored.
Its crackling embers, a cozy glow,
Chasing away the winter's icy woe.
With logs stacked high and flames aglow,
It cooked meals with a fiery show.
A kettle steamed, a teapot hummed,
Aromatic scents, a comforting sum.
A gathering place, a heart of the home,
Where stories were shared and hearts did roam.
Families huddled, hands outstretched,
Basking in the warmth, truly fetched.
Generations passed, yet it remained,
A symbol of resilience, strength ingrained.
The old wood stove, a cherished heirloom,
A beacon of comfort in every room.
Though now it rests, its fire gone dim,
Its legacy lives on, a cherished hymn.
The memories made, the tales it told,
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.
