Prompt: In a quaint village, a story is told,
Of an old man, humble and bold.
With cows as his prized possession,
He lived a life of simple expression.
Each day he'd tend to his gentle herd,
With love and care, his actions spurred.
He knew them all by name and face,
Their gentle eyes, their calm grace.
Through sunshine and rain, he'd roam,
Guiding them to pasture and home.
He'd milk them by the morning light,
With hands so weathered, yet held them tight.
His cows were his family, his heart and soul,
They brought him joy, they made him whole.
Their milk brought sustenance and delight,
To the village, morning, noon, and night.
But as years passed, his strength did wane,
His steps slowed, his back in pain.
His cows sensed his weariness, his decline,
And gathered around him, so benign.
They nuzzled him with warmth and care,
As if to say, "We're here to share.
We've given you our all, our best,
Now it's time for you to rest."
The villagers watched in awe and sigh,
As the old man bid his herd goodbye.
With tears in his eyes and a heart so full,
He thanked them for a life so beautiful.
For in his cows, he found true treasure,
A bond so pure, a lasting pleasure.
Prompt: Golden strands cascade, a sunny waterfall,
Tumbling down in waves, with a mesmerizing sprawl,
Like tendrils of sunlight, spun into spun gold,
Long blonde curls, a treasure to behold.
They dance with every breeze, a playful twirl,
Exuding radiance, a bright and shining pearl,
Framing a face with a dazzling glow,
Long blonde curls, a heavenly show.
A crown of beauty, a mane so fair,
A hallmark of elegance, beyond compare,
They whisper secrets, of love and delight,
Long blonde curls, a captivating sight.
Prompt: In Tennessee, a tale is told,
Of a spirit feared, mysterious and bold.
A haunting legend, known so well,
Of the Bell Witch, an eerie spell.
It started with a farmer named John Bell,
His family, tormented by an unseen spell.
Banging on walls, voices in the night,
A force that filled them all with fright.
The Bell Witch, they called the ghost,
A malevolent spirit, feared the most.
It whispered secrets, foretold their fate,
Unleashing fear they couldn't abate.
The witch took many forms, they say,
A black dog, a rabbit, night and day.
It laughed, it mocked, it scratched and bit,
Its presence a terror, a harrowing fit.
The Bell family tried to flee,
But the witch pursued with malicious glee.
It taunted them with knowledge unknown,
A torment that chilled them to the bone.
Word of the witch spread far and wide,
As curious visitors came to the Bell's side.
But the witch's wrath, it did not abate,
It grew more powerful, full of hate.
In the end, John Bell succumbed,
To the Bell Witch, his fate was numbed.
The spirit vanished, leaving mystery behind,
A legend that lingers, a tale enshrined.
The Bell Witch, a legend so old,
Prompt: On a stormy eve, when lightning splits the sky,
And thunder roars with a ferocious cry,
A lone figure braves the tempest's wrath,
A fearless rider, blazing a thunderous path.
Mounted on a horse, swift and bold,
With eyes ablaze, and a heart so bold,
They ride with power, a force of nature,
Through rain and wind, with unwavering stature.
Their cloak billows, like a darkened cloud,
As they charge through the storm, headlong and proud,
Their mane and tail, a tempest's fury,
As they ride on, with a relentless hurry.
With lightning crackling in their wake,
And thunder rumbling with each stride they take,
They ride with wild abandon, without fear,
Embodying the storm, loud and clear.
They are the Thunder Rider, a force of might,
Harnessing the storm's electrifying light,
A symbol of strength and untamed power,
Riding the storm, hour after hour.
Through darkness and chaos, they ride on,
A mythic figure, never to be outshone,
For they are the embodiment of nature's might,
The Thunder Rider, a tempest in the night.
Prompt: Lazy Tree, inspired by art from tomasz alen kopera. Andy Fairhurst. Hyperdetailed, Silent Maiden. In the art style of Norman Rockwell And Bernard Buffet. anime. Anime Key Visual, Japanese Manga, Pixiv, Zerochan, Anime art, Fantia. 8k resolution concept art intricately detailed trending on Artstation
Prompt: Dreamlike Landscape and darkwave skull. Hyperdetailed. 8k resolution concept art trending on Artstation. In the style of Maginel Wright Enright Barney
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 the field, he stands alone,
A tattered figure, weathered and prone.
His straw-stuffed form, ragged and bare,
A diehard scarecrow, with a haunted air.
Once, he was new, and filled with might,
A protector, in the daylight bright.
With outstretched arms, and burlap face,
He guarded the crops, with steadfast grace.
Through wind and rain, he stood his ground,
A sentinel, always around.
He scared away the birds and pests,
Keeping the harvest, at its best.
But time went on, and seasons passed,
The sun and rain, took their toll at last.
His straw grew thin, his burlap frayed,
His posture slouched, his presence swayed.
Yet, he held on, with unwavering will,
A diehard scarecrow, standing still.
His purpose clear, though worn and torn,
He guarded the field, from dusk till morn.
His eyes, though stitched, still held a gleam,
A silent sentinel, in the moonlight's beam.
A reminder of resilience and might,
A symbol of perseverance, day and night.
The seasons changed, as years went by,
But the scarecrow stood, beneath the sky.
A testament to unwavering might,
A diehard scarecrow, in the fading light.
Prompt: On a distant planet, so far away,
Where stars were bright, and skies were grey,
A laser holiday, they did prepare,
With glowing beams that filled the air.
The alien beings, with joy and cheer,
Gathered 'round, as the day drew near.
Their lasers gleamed, in hues so bright,
A spectacle, a stunning sight.
The laser lights, a wondrous dance,
Twisting, twirling, in cosmic trance.
Colors shifted, from red to blue,
Creating a spectacle, so grand and true.
The creatures danced, in rhythm and beat,
Their hearts aglow, with festive heat.
Their planet lit up, in radiant display,
A laser holiday, in a dazzling array.
They sang and laughed, in jubilation,
In celebration, of a grand occasion.
With lasers beaming, and hearts alight,
They danced through the day, and all the night.
The laser holiday, a time of mirth,
A celebration, of cosmic worth.
A galaxy of beings, united in delight,
Under laser lights, so brilliant and bright.
Prompt: In the dark of night, with stars above,
A hero rises, full of love.
With cape and mask, a figure bold,
Fights for justice, brave and bold.
Through the shadows, he swiftly moves,
Protecting innocents, he proves,
No crime too great, no villain too tough,
He's Midnight Justice, strong and gruff.
He rights the wrongs, he seeks the truth,
His heart unwavering, resolute.
With fists of fury, and a heart of gold,
He battles evil, brave and bold.
Injustice trembles at his might,
As he fights for what is right.
With unwavering courage, he takes a stand,
To bring justice to a troubled land.
In the silence of the midnight hour,
He fights with all his strength and power.
A beacon of hope in the darkest night,
Midnight Justice, a hero's light.
Prompt: A Zen guardsman, calm and still,
Meditates upon the hill,
A watchful eye, a tranquil heart,
In perfect harmony, a work of art.
With focused mind and steady breath,
He guards the gate, protecting death,
His armor gleams with inner light,
A beacon of peace, serene and bright.
He moves with grace, in mindful flow,
Unwavering, both high and low,
His sword a symbol of skillful means,
His presence calm, like gentle streams.
He embodies strength, yet seeks no fight,
His essence pure, a guiding light,
In perfect balance, he stands tall,
A Zen guardsman, guardian of all.
His wisdom deep, his spirit free,
He guards with love and unity,
In every moment, fully present,
A living testament to Zen's essence.
So in the stillness of his stance,
A Zen guardsman finds his trance,
A warrior of peace, unwavering and true,
A timeless symbol of Zen's virtue.
Prompt: Salty sneakers, worn and frayed,
A tale of journeys, long and laid,
Traveled far and traveled wide,
Through sand and surf, with joy and pride.
They've trekked along the sandy shores,
Where crashing waves, their melody roars,
Leaving traces of saltwater brine,
A testament to adventures divine.
They've hiked up mountains, rocky and steep,
Where trails are rugged, and valleys deep,
Leaving imprints on the rugged terrain,
A story of resilience, hard to explain.
They've wandered through forests, lush and green,
Where mossy paths are serpentine,
Leaving footprints in the softest loam,
A memory of nature's welcoming home.
These salty sneakers, weathered and worn,
Hold memories of adventures born,
They carry stories of journeys past,
Of steps taken, both slow and fast.
For every journey, a tale to tell,
Of salty sneakers, worn so well,
A testament to wanderlust's call,
A reminder of the world's grand sprawl.
Prompt: In the depths of darkness, where flames burn bright,
A reserved hellfire, hidden from sight,
A smoldering blaze, a flickering ember,
Concealing anguish, a soul's deep dismember.
It simmers low, a muted glow,
A searing heat that's kept below,
A restrained inferno, a controlled rage,
Held in check, in a hidden cage.
It smolders quietly, a secret fire,
Burning with pain, yet veiled in desire,
A tempest brewing, a storm within,
A battle fought, a war unseen.
But even in darkness, there's a glimmer of light,
A ray of hope, a chance to make it right,
For from the ashes, new flames can rise,
With strength and courage, a soul can reprise.
So in the midst of hellfire's glow,
There's hope for healing, a chance to grow,
A reserved inferno, now set free,
To rise anew, in victory.
Prompt: In the moonlight's gentle glow,
Where spirits dance to and fro,
Their tails a blur, a whirlwind spin,
A mystical, otherworldly din.
They twirl and twist in graceful flight,
A celestial ballet of sheer delight,
Their tails trailing like ribbons bright,
Leaving trails of magic in the night.
With whispers soft and laughter sweet,
They sweep through the air with nimble feet,
In a tailspin of joy and merriment,
A mystical display of pure enchantment.
Their spirits soar, their tails aglow,
A bewitching sight, a wondrous show,
A reminder of magic's timeless grace,
A fleeting glimpse of a mystical place.
Prompt: Raging waves, a tempest's roar,
The angry sea, a mighty uproar.
Fierce currents churn, with furious might,
Crashing against shores, an awe-inspiring sight.
Saltwater spray, whipped by the wind,
As nature's fury is unchained, unpinned.
Dark clouds loom, skies turn black,
As the sea lashes out, with a vengeful attack.
Boats tossed and turned, at the sea's command,
A battle of elements, hard to withstand.
Foamy crests, reaching for the sky,
A tumultuous dance, as waves soar high.
But amidst the chaos, a beauty lies,
In the raw power that nature implies.
A reminder of forces beyond control,
The angry sea, a tempestuous soul.
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 raven of steel, with eyes that gleam,
A cybernetic marvel, a futuristic theme,
Wings of wires, feathers of alloy,
A creature of innovation, a cybernetic envoy.
With circuits and sensors, it soars through the sky,
A technological marvel, that catches the eye,
Its plumage shining, with a digital sheen,
A raven of the future, in a world unseen.
Its beak a scanner, its wings a screen,
A cybernetic messenger, swift and keen,
A fusion of nature and technology,
A marvel of engineering, for all to see.
With augmented senses, it surveys the land,
Processing data, with precision so grand,
Its cybernetic enhancements, a technological boon,
A raven of the future, under a silvery moon.
Yet amidst the wires, and circuits so bright,
Lies a soul of nature, a spirit of flight,
A creature of the wild, with a heart so true,
A cybernetic raven, with a nature's residue.
A symbol of progress, a fusion of worlds,
A cybernetic marvel, with digital swirls,
A raven of the future, a creature of lore,
A testament to innovation, forever to soar.
Prompt: A cloak of stars, draped in the night,
A celestial shroud, a mesmerizing sight,
A celestial tapestry, woven with light,
A cosmic spectacle, in the dark's embrace, so bright.
Twinkling gems, scattered across the sky,
A sparkling canopy, that captures the eye,
Each star a story, a cosmic tale,
In the starry cloak, a celestial trail.
A cloak of mystery, a veil of dreams,
A nocturnal wonder, that forever gleams,
A celestial garment, so vast and wide,
The starry cloak, a celestial guide.
Beneath its shimmering folds, we find our way,
In its ethereal glow, we yearn to stay,
Lost in awe, of its celestial grace,
The starry cloak, a celestial embrace.
So, gaze upon the night sky's glowing cloak,
Let it captivate you, with its cosmic evoke,
A celestial marvel, a heavenly sight,
The starry cloak, a beacon in the night.
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: The old canvas tent, a rustic abode,
Weathered and worn, but with stories to be told,
Sturdy poles and ropes, holding it tight,
A shelter in the wilderness, under stars at night.
Its fabric aged, with patches and stains,
A testament to adventures and rugged terrains,
The scent of campfire, lingering in the air,
A cozy haven, amidst nature's flair.
Inside, a simple dwelling, with a rustic charm,
A place to rest, safe from nature's harm,
A canvas roof, sheltering from rain or dew,
A humble dwelling, with a simple view.
Memories abound, within its canvas walls,
Of nights spent stargazing, and nature's calls,
Of campfire stories, and laughter shared,
Of quiet moments, with nature's wonders bared.
The old canvas tent, a symbol of adventure,
A nomad's refuge, a wanderer's treasure,
A humble dwelling, in the great outdoors,
A sanctuary of simplicity, that nature restores.
In its faded canvas, and weathered facade,
Lies the spirit of camping, and journeys so broad,
A canvas tent, with a history to be told,
A timeless symbol, of stories untold.
Prompt: An autumn oak tree, in colors ablaze,
With leaves of gold and crimson haze,
A majestic sight, against the sky,
As nature paints, in hues that sigh.
Its branches reaching, with strength and grace,
A canopy of beauty, in a vibrant embrace,
With rustling leaves, in a gentle breeze,
A timeless symbol, of nature's decrees.
The sun casts shadows, through its boughs,
Creating patterns, that dance and drowse,
As days grow shorter, and temperatures cool,
The autumn oak tree, is nature's jewel.
Its foliage falling, like a golden rain,
Blanketing the earth, in a rustic refrain,
A carpet of leaves, in shades so warm,
A reminder of nature's wondrous charm.
Birds chirp and nest, in its sturdy limbs,
Finding shelter, as the season dims,
Squirrels scurry, in search of treasure,
In the autumn oak tree, a season's measure.
A symbol of strength, through seasons' change,
The autumn oak tree, a sight so strange,
In fiery colors, it stands so proud,
A marvel of nature, drawing a crowd.
So, let us cherish, this autumnal view,
The beauty of an oak tree, so bold and true,
A seasonal spectacle, a nature's delight,
The autumn oak tree, a majestic sight.
Prompt: In a zoological fantasy, a world of dreams,
Animals of all kinds, in mystical extremes,
Creatures fantastical, beyond the mundane,
A wonderland of fauna, a whimsical domain.
There, a winged lion, takes to the sky,
With majestic wings, it soars up high,
Roaming freely, with grace and might,
A mythical beast, a breathtaking sight.
A unicorn gallops, with a horn so bright,
In a realm of magic, it's a mesmerizing sight,
Its mane flowing, with colors divine,
A creature of myth, in a world so fine.
A dragon roams, with scales aglow,
Breathing fire, with an awe-inspiring show,
A creature of legend, fierce and bold,
In a zoological fantasy, a tale to be told.
A mermaid sings, with a melodious voice,
Luring sailors, with her enchanting poise,
Half human, half fish, in the depths she dwells,
A mythical being, with mythical spells.
A griffin soars, with a lion's might,
And an eagle's wings, taking flight,
A creature of lore, both fierce and wise,
In a zoological fantasy, a wondrous prize.
In this realm of wonder, where dreams come alive,
A zoological fantasy, where animals thrive,
Imagination soars, and magic reigns,
A world of creatures, with fantastical domains.
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: Mystical pharmacy bottles, lined in rows,
Holding secrets, ancient and unknown,
Potions and elixirs, concoctions rare,
A mystic brew, beyond compare.
Amber glass, with labels worn,
Whispering stories of potions born,
From distant lands, and realms unseen,
Holding mysteries, both dark and serene.
Unleashing powers, hidden within,
Cures for ailments, a magical spin,
Labeled with runes, symbols and signs,
Unlocking wisdom, of mystic kind.
Bottles of potions, shimmering bright,
Emanating aura, in ethereal light,
Each holding a key, to realms unknown,
A mystical treasure, to call your own.
So, delve into the world, of alchemy rare,
In these mystical bottles, secrets to share,
With potions brewed, from times of yore,
A mystical pharmacy, a realm to explore.
Prompt: Victorian Photograph
A moment frozen, in sepia tone,
A glimpse of history, forever known.
A portrait captured, in time's embrace,
A Victorian photograph, a window to a place.
Dressed in finery, with solemn grace,
Posing still, in a timeless space.
Formal attire, with poses prim,
A snapshot of an era, a treasure dim.
The subjects stern, yet quietly proud,
Their expressions somber, voices loud.
In black and white, their faces gleam,
A preserved memory, like a dream.
A family portrait, or a lover's gaze,
A Victorian photograph, a bygone phase.
Capturing memories, in sepia hues,
A treasure to cherish, in history's muse.
From a bygone era, a glimpse in time,
A Victorian photograph, so sublime.
A window to the past, a story told,
Preserved forever, in sepia gold.
Prompt: A symphony of notes, in perfect tune,
Harmony and rhythm, a melodic boon.
A fusion of melodies, blending in grace,
A perfect composition, a masterpiece in place.
Each instrument, playing its part,
Strings and keys, creating art.
Drums and bass, setting the pace,
Brass and woodwinds, adding their grace.
A seamless flow, of tones and chords,
Creating a tapestry, of musical words.
Notes that dance, notes that soar,
A symphony of emotions, to the core.
A crescendo of passion, a gentle refrain,
A perfect composition, a musical domain.
A journey of sound, from start to end,
A timeless creation, a message to send.
A harmony of voices, in perfect blend,
Singing in unison, a chorus to ascend.
Lyrics that touch the heart and soul,
A perfect composition, a symphony's goal.
In music's realm, a masterpiece shines,
A perfect composition, a treasure of finds.
A symphony of sounds, a work of art,
A perfect composition, that captivates the heart.
Prompt: Darkness falls, shadows creep,
A sense of foreboding, runs deep.
Moon obscured, stars concealed,
An evil night, a darkness revealed.
Whispers in the wind, eerie sound,
Fear and unease, all around.
Ghosts and ghouls, come to play,
On this fateful night, in disarray.
Cackling witches, on broomsticks soar,
Haunting echoes, chilling to the core.
Bats swoop low, owls hoot and screech,
A haunting symphony, beyond our reach.
Unseen eyes, watch from afar,
Mystery and menace, under every star.
Unknown terrors, lurking in the dark,
Sending shivers down the spine, a daunting mark.
A sense of danger, a thrill of fright,
On this evil night, a test of might.
But dawn will come, with the morning light,
Dispelling darkness, banishing the fright.
Evil night, a fleeting phase,
A reminder of life's mysterious ways.
For darkness fades, and light prevails,
A beacon of hope, as the night exhales.
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.
133w
