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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: The Dream
Volume 1, Poem 1 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 1”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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One golden morning, still and bright,
Daisy stepped from sleep to light.
The fortress walls stood tall behind,
yet past them lay a world unlined.
Not meadows soft, nor fields untamed,
but desert ground—unyielding, framed.
Sharp stones whispered, dry and bare,
but Christopher had placed his care.
Islands green, like scattered grace,
patches where her paws embraced.
Where earth was harsh, he made it kind,
a softer world, by love designed.
A toy she carried, snug and tight,
a small plush thing, her heart’s delight.
A mother’s whisper, longing deep,
a door unopened, yet hers to keep.
Beneath the shade where time stood still,
the hush of dawn, the air’s sweet chill,
she pressed her face to morning’s glow,
grateful in a way she’d show.
A kiss to him, a silent vow,
“I see you here, I feel you now.”
Her belly full, her heart at rest,
a breath, a sigh—a life well-blessed.
The wind hummed soft, the trees bent near,
secrets only she could hear.
A drifting song, a distant tune,
a whisper sung by sun and moon.
Then heavy lids and slowing breath,
a slip beyond, a soft caress.
The air cool in, the warmth floats out,
a tiny sigh, a dream’s devout.
She drifts, she soars, her paws take flight,
beyond the day, beyond the light.
Through dreaming gardens, far and free,
where love and earth and sky agree.
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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: The Awakening
Volume 1, Poem 2 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 2”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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Sleep took hold, soft and deep,
her paws still running in borrowed sleep.
A twitch, a yipe—a whispered sound,
as unseen worlds began to crown.
And then—
The world tipped sideways, slow, divine,
sunlight spilled in golden lines.
Colors burned too bright to bear,
too perfect for the desert air.
The wind was thick with something new,
a scent so pure, so crisp, so true.
No dust, no heat, no biting ground,
just endless green, where dreams are found.
She ran—oh, she ran—without strain, without fear,
bounding like light through an atmosphere.
Each step a whisper, soft yet strong,
as if the earth had known her song.
This was hers—this boundless space,
where no leash tugged, no walls embraced.
A kingdom born from silent things,
from belly sighs and tail-wag dreams.
Through wildflowers, she slowed her chase,
petals bowed in their quiet grace.
The trees leaned low as if they knew,
this world belonged to Daisy too.
And then—
A shimmer, silver, calm and bright,
a secret pool of mirrored light.
Water laced with something deep,
a memory that the soul can keep.
She stepped in slow, the earth breathed back,
cool against her desert tracks.
A drink—a gift—so crisp, so clean,
like liquid knowing, soft unseen.
And there—reflected, deep and wide,
herself, but touched by something tied
to star-dust trails and gentle might,
a creature born of both dark and light.
She blinked—her image stayed the same,
but something whispered through her name.
She was more than paws and fur,
more than hunger, thirst, or purr.
She was movement, she was fire,
she was the thing that hearts require.
Then—
A flicker near, just out of sight,
a weightless thing, a thread of light.
Not bird nor bee, nor winged design,
but something dancing past the line.
And Daisy—who had seen it all,
who knew the rise, who knew the fall—
felt something stir within her chest,
a new desire, an untamed quest.
Not food. Not play. Not squirrel nor stone.
But something deeper. Something unknown.
One step forward, eyes alight,
toward the veil between dream and sight.
For some doors open, some remain,
but Daisy walks where none have lain.
And so, the journey wakes anew,
a step beyond, a world in view.
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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: Daisy Meets Luna
Volume 1, Poem 3 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 3”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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Soft paws upon the mossy ground,
a silver pool, a world unbound.
Daisy drinks, the moment still—
then something flickers past her will.
Not food. Not toy. Not squirrel nor stone.
Something whispers, not alone.
She steps with care, her breath held tight,
ears attuned to unseen light.
The garden hums with secrets deep,
woven into wind and leaf.
And then—a shimmer, soft and bright,
a weightless glow, a thread of light.
Not bird, nor moth, nor firefly,
but something dancing through the sky.
A figure small, yet vast as stars,
a glimmered touch of light and scars.
With wings that catch the sun’s embrace,
hovering in time and space.
Daisy tilts her head just so,
eyes wide with wonder’s glow.
“I see you there,” she softly sighs,
a greeting wrapped in knowing eyes.
The fairy turns, a smile plays,
her laughter drifting, light in rays.
“I see you too,” she speaks so kind,
her voice like chimes caught in the wind.
“What’s your name?” the pug inquires,
as curiosity ignites like fires.
“Luna,” says the winged delight,
a name that feels like stars at night.
Daisy nods, her tail sways free,
“I’m Daisy, and you know me?”
A chuckle lifts from Luna’s chest,
as soft as clouds where dreams find rest.
“Oh, we know you, little one,
we’ve watched you play beneath the sun.
We’ve seen you chase the morning light,
we’ve heard your sighs in silent night.”
Daisy’s wrinkled brow does frown,
“But I’ve not seen you ‘round my town.”
Luna grins, her wings unfold,
her laughter spun in threads of gold.
“That doesn’t mean we weren’t right here,
dancing just beyond your ear.
In hidden spaces, hush between,
the moments lost, the ones unseen.”
Then—a second flash takes flight,
a boy with wings in streaks of white.
He twists, he spins, his laughter wild,
his spirit free, a dancing child.
Daisy barks, “Hey, I see you there!”
He grins midair, without a care.
“And I see you, down on the ground,
Daisy the Pug, so wise, so sound.”
Her ears perk high, confusion plays,
“How do you know my name this way?”
The boy just winks, then dips and soars,
like wind unchained, like open doors.
Luna’s eyes hold knowing deep,
a gaze that sees through wake and sleep.
“Because we watch, we listen true,
we see the things unnoticed too.”
Daisy’s world, once small and tight,
now stretched beyond the edge of sight.
For magic lived where roots entwined,
where whispered things had space to shine.
And so, the dream did spiral wide,
as Daisy stood, eyes open, wide.
A pug who saw, a pug who knew—
the garden’s world was vast and true.
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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: The Watchful Guardian
Volume 1, Poem 4 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 4”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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Beyond the veil of slumber’s keep,
where dream-light sways and hushes deep,
the waking world stands soft and still—
morning’s hush, the desert’s will.
Christopher steps on silent ground,
his gaze upon the space around.
The golden dawn begins to creep,
but Daisy lingers, lost in sleep.
Nestled where the shadows play,
where morning’s cool dares not betray,
her tiny paws in twitches slight,
caught between the day and night.
In careful hands, a water’s gleam,
cradled cold, a summer’s dream.
Icebergs drifting, slow and bright,
a touch of care, a shade of light.
He sets it near, the shaded stone,
where heat won’t claim what’s not its own.
Then turns to watch, with knowing eyes,
his pug wrapped tight in dreaming skies.
A flick, a twitch, a breath so small,
a world unseen, a whispered call.
He smiles, lost in thoughts unseen—
what wonders bloom within her dream?
And in that moment, hush unfolds,
the dream calls back, its story told.
For in the world where Daisy lay,
the sky bent low, the stars gave way.
And deeper still, the magic spun—
her journey far from being done.
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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: Puck the Golden
Volume 1, Poem 5 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 5”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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The colors swirled, the dream took hold,
a world untouched, alive in gold.
Daisy lifted wide her eyes—
and there he was, beneath the skies.
Not just any boy she found,
but one who danced without the ground.
His wings a blur, a humming light,
quick as fire, soft as flight.
A golden shimmer, warm and bright,
wrapped in sun, a child of light.
His laughter rang like breaking dawn,
a melody to pull her on.
He spun, he dipped, he soared with ease,
his presence humming through the breeze.
Daisy watched, both sure and shy,
as golden ripples kissed the sky.
She took a step, her voice so small,
yet certain as the garden’s call.
“What’s your name?” she asked, head high,
as wonder danced within her eye.
The boy grinned wide, his golden gaze,
like morning caught in fleeting haze.
“My name is Puck,” he said so free,
his voice a song, wild and free.
Daisy’s tail gave a pleased little beat,
her heart in time, her steps so sweet.
“It’s nice to meet you, Puck,” she said,
“I must say—you fly well ahead.”
Puck laughed, the air grew bright,
his wings a shimmer, soft as light.
The dream was shifting, new and old,
woven deep in threads of gold.
And in this place where magic grew,
Daisy knew what she always knew—
That something called beyond the air,
A world unseen, yet always there.
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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: Daisy’s Secret World
Volume 1, Poem 6 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 6”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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Golden wings hummed, a whisper, a string,
soft as the hush that new secrets bring.
Puck hovered, wild, with mischief in flight,
his laughter like sunbeams slicing the light.
“Daisy,” he called, in a voice bold and free,
“Would you like to see what only fairies see?”
Daisy’s ears perked, her heart took a leap,
“A secret place, hidden deep?”
Puck grinned. “The most secret of all.”
Luna twirled, her light standing tall.
“Wait for me! I’m coming too!”
Daisy’s tail wagged. “Lead me through.”
With that, they soared, they danced, they ran,
Daisy leapt as only a dreamer can.
Through towering blooms, past trees that spoke,
over the earth where old magic woke.
Then—brambles, thick, an impassable maze,
woven with time in twisting braids.
But hidden within, just out of sight,
a small secret opening bathed in light.
“This way,” called Puck, his voice like a tune,
vanishing swift in the shadows of noon.
Daisy paused, her nose to the air,
something sacred was waiting there.
Step by step, she pushed her way,
through tunnels of vines, past petals that swayed.
And then—she emerged, wide eyes in delight,
as the dream-world unfolded in shimmering light.
A garden untouched, tucked far from time,
where wildflowers swayed in rhythm and rhyme.
Mushrooms stood in their perfect ring,
a secret place where lost stars sing.
The scent of the earth was rich, alive,
a whispering pond let goldfish dive.
Lily pads danced as a toad took its throne,
high in the branches, an owl watched alone.
A tiny voice, soft as the breeze,
rose from the petals, light as the leaves.
“Hi, Daisy,” it giggled, small and bright,
a fairy appeared, woven in light.
Younger than Luna, soft pastels dressed,
woven from twilight, kissed by rest.
Her wings fluttered, a butterfly’s grace,
laughter like wind chimes spun into lace.
Daisy blinked. “How do you know my name?”
Celeste just smiled. “Oh, it’s always the same.
We’ve known you long, from the whispers that play,
from the songs that the garden hums through the day.”
Daisy watched as the world danced around,
a lizard on stone, a snail on the ground.
A mouse in the brush, a goldfish’s glide,
all of it moving in time, side by side.
She took a deep breath, let wonder sink in,
this place held a magic that pulsed through her skin.
She turned to her friends, her eyes soft with light,
her heart full of something that felt beyond night.
“I just want to say—thank you, my friends,
for showing me magic that never quite ends.
For letting me see what lies past the sky,
a world untouched where no walls lie.”
The fairies beamed, their laughter took flight,
a melody drifting in golden twilight.
And there they sat, in the hush of the space,
wrapped in the warmth of a timeless embrace.
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Pug-Tales: Poetry of Daisy’s Dreaming Garden: The Journey Home
Volume 1, Poem 7 of 7
“Daisy’s Pug Tales: Part 7”
Written by Christopher Sopher Media LLC © 2024
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Then—she felt it.
A shift. A pull.
A whisper through the roots, a call upon the wind.
Something was waiting.
Something was pulling her back.
Her paws tingled, her breath ran deep,
the garden swayed, the colors seeped.
Soft edges blurred in silver streams,
the hush between the waking dreams.
“I have to find my way back.”
Nose to earth, she traced the air,
the scent of home was woven there.
She ran—faster now, with knowing feet,
through tangled brush and fields of wheat.
The dream unraveled, thread by thread,
the golden hues turned soft instead.
A sound—a scent—a tether tight,
pulling her toward the morning light.
And then—
A scent.
Savory, rich, drifting low,
like warm reminders, soft and slow.
A rope unseen, a tether bright,
pulling her back from fading night.
Food.
The dream flickered, dimmed, withdrew,
like twilight’s last reluctant blue.
Her body stilled, her breath stretched wide,
her slumbered world now cast aside.
Daisy stirred.
Eyelids fluttered, paws unfurled,
a yawn stretched deep, her tail swirled.
The earth was different, firm and known,
the morning air, the desert stone.
She stretched, she sighed, she blinked anew,
but something lingered—something true.
A tug. A whisper. A feeling near.
She turned her head—and saw them there.
Luna. Puck. Celeste.
Standing at the garden’s seam,
glowing like a fading dream.
Their wings like echoes, slow in flight,
their smiles caught in morning light.
They raised their hands, a soft goodbye,
a farewell wrapped in golden sky.
And Daisy wagged her tail once more,
a silent answer—”I see you, too.”
And then—
They faded, light as air,
as if they were never there.
The dream had ended.
But the magic?
The magic would always remain.
The End.