donlaiq
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    A hyperrealistic military tank shooting a stream of confetti from the cannon. 8k, 4k, ultrarealistic, realistic, hd

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    More prompts from donlaiq

    Masterwork painting, The Mona Lisa with mustache by Leonardo Da Vinci
    a photo of a whirlwind storm inside an old bottle with detailed, beautiful golden cap in a captain's cabin of an old pirate ship.
    cinematic photo of a tennis player on the serve holding a frying pan from the handle. 35mm photograph, film, bokeh, professional, 4k, highly detailed
    Horror-themed Photo of a lonely girl, sad, red eyes child with a shabby, old, dirty hairy teddy bear, sitting on the street. Extremely high-resolution details, photographic, realism pushed to extreme, fine texture, incredibly lifelike, cinematic, 35mm film, 35mm photography, film, photo realism, DSLR, 4k, 8k uhd, hr, hdr, ultra-detailed, high quality, high contrast, film grain, high speed blur . Eerie, unsettling, dark, spooky, suspenseful, grim, highly detailed
    Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone -- Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy: Be silent in that solitude Which is not loneliness -- for then The spirits of the dead who stood In life before thee are again In death around thee -- and their will Shall then overshadow thee: be still. For the night -- tho' clear -- shall frown -- And the stars shall look not down, From their high thrones in the Heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given -- But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever : Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish -- Now are visions ne'er to vanish -- From thy spirit shall they pass No more -- like dew-drop from the grass: The breeze -- the breath of God -- is still -- And the mist upon the hill Shadowy -- shadowy -- yet unbroken, Is a symbol and a token -- How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! --
    Thank Heaven! the crisis -- The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last -- And the fever called "Living" Is conquered at last. Sadly, I know I am shorn of my strength, And no muscle I move As I lie at full length -- But no matter! -- I feel I am better at length. And I rest so composedly, Now, in my bed, That any beholder Might fancy me dead -- Might start at beholding me, Thinking me dead. The moaning and groaning, The sighing and sobbing, Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbing At heart: -- ah, that horrible, Horrible throbbing! The sickness -- the nausea -- The pitiless pain -- Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain -- With the fever called "Living" That burned in my brain. And oh! of all tortures That torture the worst Has abated -- the terrible Torture of thirst For the naphthaline river Of Passion accurst: -- I have drank of a water That quenches all thirst: -- Of a water that flows, With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few Feet under ground -- From a cavern not very far Down under ground. And ah! let it never Be foolishly said That my room it is gloomy And narrow my bed; For man never slept In a different bed -- And, to sleep, you must slumber In just such a bed. My tantalized spirit Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never Regretting its roses -- Its old agitations Of myrtles and roses: For now, while so quietly Lying, it fancies A holier odor About it, of pansies -- A rosemary odor, Commingled with pansies -- With rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies. And so it lies happily, Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie -- Drowned in a bath Of the tresses of Annie. She tenderly kissed me, She fondly caressed, And then I fell gently To sleep on her breast -- Deeply to sleep From the heaven of her breast. When the light was extinguished, She covered me warm, And she prayed to the angels To keep me from harm -- To the queen of the angels To shield me from harm. And I lie so composedly, Now in my bed, (Knowing her love) That you fancy me dead -- And I rest so contentedly, Now in my bed, (With her love at my breast) That you fancy me dead -- That you shudder to look at me, Thinking me dead: -- But my heart it is brighter Than all of the many Stars in the sky, For it sparkles with Annie -- It glows with the light Of the love of my Annie -- With the thought of the light Of the eyes of my Annie.
    Horror-themed Two zombie hands forming a heart. In the background, a couple of in love zombies. 35mm photograph, film, professional, 4k, highly detailed. . Eerie, unsettling, dark, spooky, suspenseful, grim, highly detailed
    Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow -- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand -- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep -- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
    Cinematic photo of a chimpanzee smoking a cigarette. Hawaiian shirt and Panama hat. Smoke. 35mm photograph, film, professional, 4k, highly detailed.
    A professional photograph of a humanoid with pieces of its face torn apart. 8k, 4k, ultrarealistic, realistic, natural skin, textured skin, hd
    iphone photo of a doctor smiling and toasting with the patient which is laying out in the bed. large depth of field, deep depth of field, highly detailed
    a photo of a hurricane storm inside an old bottle with detailed, beautiful golden cap in a captain's cabin of an old pirate ship.
    A sheep wearing a sheep jacket
    Hush, little baby, don't you cry You know your mama was born to die All my trials, Lord, soon be over River of Jordan is muddy and cold Well, it chills the body, but not the soul All my trials, Lord, soon be over I've got a little book with pages three And every page spells, "Liberty" All my trials, Lord, soon be over Too late, my brothers Too late, but never mind All my trials, Lord, soon be over If living were a thing that money could buy You know the rich would live and the poor would die All my trials, Lord, soon be over There grows a tree in Paradise And the pilgrims call it the Tree of Life All my trials, Lord, soon be over Too late, my brothers Too late, but never mind All my trials, Lord, soon be over All my trials, Lord, soon be over
    a photo of a hurricane storm inside an old bottle with detailed, beautiful golden cap in a captain's cabin of an old pirate ship.
    Photo of Roman soldiers playing poker with several stacks of . Extremely high-resolution details, photographic, realism pushed to extreme, fine texture, incredibly lifelike, cinematic, 35mm film, 35mm photography, film, photo realism, DSLR, 8k, hr, hdr, ultra-detailed, high quality, high contrast, film grain, high speed blur
    Horror-themed a photo of the full body of a personification of a mole animal with a lot of magnification in its huge transparent glasses, showing to the visor enormous eyes. . Eerie, unsettling, dark, spooky, suspenseful, grim, highly detailed
    I. HEAR the sledges with the bells -- Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells -- From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II. Hear the mellow wedding bells Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight ! From the molten-golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future ! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells -- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! III. Hear the loud alarum bells -- Brazen bells ! What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright ! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now -- now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells ! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair ! How they clang, and clash, and roar ! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air ! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows ; Yet, the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -- Of the bells -- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells -- In the clamour and the clangour of the bells ! IV. Hear the tolling of the bells -- Iron bells ! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy meaning of their tone ! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people -- ah, the people -- They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone -- They are neither man nor woman -- They are neither brute nor human -- They are Ghouls: -- And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A pan from the bells ! And his merry bosom swells With the pan of the bells ! And he dances, and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the pan of the bells -- Of the bells : Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells -- Of the bells, bells, bells -- To the sobbing of the bells ; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells -- Of the bells, bells, bells -- To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells -- Bells, bells, bells -- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
    From childhood's hour I have not been As others were -- I have not seen As others saw -- I could not bring My passions from a common spring -- From the same source I have not taken My sorrow -- I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone -- And all I lov'd -- I lov'd alone -- Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn Of a most stormy life -- was drawn From ev'ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still -- From the torrent, or the fountain -- From the red cliff of the mountain -- From the sun that 'round me roll'd In its autumn tint of gold -- From the lightning in the sky As it pass'd me flying by -- From the thunder, and the storm -- And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view --
    a photo of a whirlwind storm inside an old bottle with detailed, beautiful golden cap in a captain's cabin of an old pirate ship.
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