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May E V Watson Oct 2017
I dream of world’s, or at least portals to them.

It always plays back to me like a broken memory. The places location and buildings change, the people change but the two optional outcomes ALWAYS remain constant. It started when I was a little girl, maybe six or seven, I started having serious reoccurring dreams. The one I tell you about now is the one I referred to as “The Portal.”
We are walking along, depending on who it is, we are at school, work, or someplace downtown. There are always others around.

It is always Autumn, a day just chilly enough for the light coats we are wearing. The sky has lots of fluffy cotton ball clouds Drifting by, in the breeze always carries the scent of the Sea, saltwater, the breeze also carries the Fallen Autumn Leaves upon it on the warm wind Drifting by, even if there are no trees. And we’re always, or always end up outside, walking along.

After what feels like walking for an hour or so in this dream of mine, the winds pick up Suddenly. The sharp smell of ozone cuts the air. The tear, Rift, opening, mini black hole, wormhole whatever you want to call it this portal to another place, opens up with a flash of Silent Violet lightning.
It creates suction like squirrel, pulling things into it; mailboxes, cars, Lake posts all seemed to disintegrate when it touches it, all but the birds and trees being ****** in.

And somehow I always know, but the only way for it to go, it’s to get what it came for. I must go, it always gives me the choice though. If I do not jump, into the sky, it fades away over time. It has never forced me to go. Take another thing was, perhaps a faceless person, but I’ve never been made to go against my will by it.

It is always you, or the one beside me grabbing my hand as I jump. My feet dangle in the sky, towards the rift. I am not afraid, but you are. And the tears roll down her cheeks, to drift into the static.

It is a cool and sunny autumn day, and the sky is full of clouds. The breeze and air current is strong going into the portal, but also gentle is the wind Swirls and leaves float to the air. And you are always one or many of you, my love ones, my friends, my family, always holding on to me, onto to my wrists.
There is only ever one thing you say is our tears trip into the sky, “Please.”

Sometimes, I grabbed on in the whole crackles like a bad radio signal, closes and I waken. But the other times, most of the time. I will look you in the eyes, and I will say the three things I never seem to failed to say at this point. And the final thing I hate to say, just say unless I hate you, or it is final.
“ let go. You’ll be fine. Goodbye.”
After those final words for me, and he holding me ceases, even if I must look through your fingers. And I’m drawn into the tear.

I never find out where I go. But I’ve noticed, but even if I wake up and the temperature is 20 degrees, I always and never hold, feeling is the surrounded by gentle Cocoon of warmth.

I never told my mother this story, and not long ago when I was 19, she told me something at a hard time I was having,
“If the Portal opens, JUMP.” ~BLW

It’s a variation of Our Own, on the Total Recall quote get your *** to Mars because she would say that too, but it also meant she said,
“ if you are given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, even if you must leave oh you know and love behind, Take It.”
Written Sunday February 19th, 2017
this is the second of my short story prompts from my friend. and my third favorite.
Tori Schall Sep 2017
The surface of the water ripples
like little portals to another world
the stone sinks through
and then disappears

The water becomes still
the portals have closed
but maybe, just maybe
I can still get through

To go to another place
far away from here
where I have no one
and no one cares

Maybe if I got there
people with love me
I'll be happy
I'll be wanted

The ripples, a splash
is all that's left
swallowing the stone like mist
before everything disappears
Star BG May 2017
In a portal of light, I move on journey,
inside peaks of love.
The waves caress opening gateways
of endless possibilities.
Memories gather
feeling the powers of self
inside ecstasy as heart opens.

My gratitude moves from heart
to lips from lips to air of breath.
Eyes expand to see visions
divine.

And inside breath,
I rise dancing in spirals of light.
Dance as I meet my soul mates
deep crystal eyes.
The ones I waited a lifetime for.
inspired by Temporal Fuge
Carolyne McNabb Aug 2016
It's time to go back.
I know I must, before it's too late, return
through the portal of blue and black.
The chasm at the bottom of the sea
is where the portal is,
and my people wait for me.
Will they welcome me in
or will they chase me back out
when they see what this world has done to me-
how it's changed me within?
Would the ways of this world really be acceptable in any other world?
Alex Durow Mar 2016
These words written in ink and fear

These words meant to tear, build, break, kiss

These words that embrace or give hate in misuse

Or even create portals you can climb through

||

So climb through this portal and live in these words

Thrive in these lyrics and feast in this verse

For the real world's too harsh and these words can be walls

A portal

A home

A poem

A song
I have changed.
Newer colors from my inner light.
Count these colors…at the end of
My rainbow… A heart of gold is in sight.
I may not be accepted into many lanes of social traffic.
So, I continue an enjoyable ride to
Where I shall be clearly seen and finally have a pit stop and enjoy some limited moments of social interactions.
Then I’m off and going with the other faceless drivers trucking their goods to those who understand the boxed tricks.
To a waved message along my way down life’s sometimes lonely highway.
I enjoy the sights along my way.
Fake historic landmarks might be shortly breath taking..
However, my truer trip takes to the better city attractions…..
The true structures in life’s light in the road that ends from some faceless traffic.
I see your meaning and learned from the lessons taught well.
Later on, I shall be the teacher and the newest of brighter attractions… Pennies for my thoughts?
After the millions of writings are bought.
A millionaire shall I be in my well earned heaven.
Never,hastily, choosing the quick and easy fix and route to hell.
brandon nagley Sep 2015
Iŋtɷ ɧҽɾ pɷɾtaɭ I ҽŋtҽɾҽɖ
It ɭҽɖ tɷ tɧҽ cҽŋtҽɾ ɷʆ tɧҽ
Uŋɩѵҽɾىҽ.
If cannot read this it said

Into her portal I entered
It led to the center of the
Universe.

firmament is the heavens or the sky...
Liam C Calhoun Aug 2015
If each and every grain were a
Year,
Than every knock would be an
Episode,
So came the story that is my
Door.

And,

One – was the loudest pound,
“Authority,”
When the P.D.’d nearly warped
Hinge,
So came my first night in the
Clink.

Two, three, and four – Love, only
Love,
And one of two later;
SLAM!
Or one silent escape, fled and
Sundered.

Five – was the knock that never came.

Six – “tap, tap, tap,”
Mom,
It must have been my mom, or rather,
Obligation
And she’d swear to my sisters, “he’s
Ok.”

Seven, eight, and nine – Deliveries,
Disguise,
Pizza, Chinese, pizza and not so
Famished
Anymore; fuel for the guts, guzzle for the
Words.

Ten – came a' “gamechanger,”
Tear-smeared-mascara,
And two hands atop your
Abdomen;
I knew atop the water your freckles,
You’d never need knock again.

So if each and every grain were a
Year,
Than every knock would be an
Episode,
And this would be the story, that’d ever
Be our door.
Looking at the door and looking back through the years - I remember every face and every "legend."
Barbara-Paraprem May 2015
Suddenly
I remembered,
I could indeed fly.
I showed it
in the middle of the gathering,
where you first looked
astonished at me,
but then
as if you had seen the devil.

I flew away.

In the large apartment then
not without fear
of unrecognized angles.
But at the border of the apartment
and at the same time
in the midst of it,
with both feet yet
in the own home
standing:
a large, powerful,
noble portal.
The doors made of heavy wood
and framed by
hosts of angels
carved in stone
– each angel
a few candles guarding.

I flew up.

To set fire to all
and which burned down
let shine again
by new form.

In the stone arch
sitting,
with the aim and
the strenuous attempt,
to achieve so too
the outermost candles,
suddenly became so heavy,
as if I had forgotten to fly,
for fear of falling down.

Some down there,
on the other site,
notice the solemn lighting
and
looking up to the lights,
which in the middle of the day
and in middle of the night
are shining.

The one is happy
about the festive light,
the other worries
about my strength.

Even
if I should fall
and
become too heavy to fly:
I would come back,
to light too
the last candle.


© Barbara-Paraprem – 2.9.1993
Lauren Hitchcock Dec 2014
It was your eyes I fell for first
Like a liquid forest fire
They were windows to your soul
And a portal to your heart
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