Between the what if’s…
That magical dimension,
Akin to delusions or psychoses.
Where one holds to a tiny thread of subjective reality,
A confirmed impossibility,
Only in the realm of gentle probability,
From the mind of one, single, beautiful, intelligent, creative, unique, human being…
Who’s to say any of us are wrong?
©2017 Elizabeth Dianne Allee
Light livens her,
Firm in permanence,
A stance beautiful, proud.
To glance is to stare,
Her stone elegance entrancing.
Immortalized by hands of love.
©Elizabeth Dianne Allee
Photo credit: https://mary-petroff.deviantart.com/art/Lonely-statue-178254359
Kingman Wash in Arizona. Iphone snap
Crystal jewel amid desert rigidity,
Exposed in willing transparency.
Deep tonal blue your reflective canopy,
Your icy December embrace still entices me.
My fingers playfully seek
Expectant through chilled caress,
I feel the settled stones,
You and time have smoothed diligently.
And respectfully I acknowledge,
You haven’t always known such serenity.
Rugged unpolished rocks,
Droughts and waters raging.
Yet I know and remember when trials oppress,
Serenity IS, and when absent, will again be…
January 1, 2015
Upon transitory stone.
No leaves to fret,
No rustling heard in the wind.
Making bare, expectations.
Majestic fall defiance.
Autumn arrayed for all seasons.
The warm outstretched tendrils,
Arrayed to adorn.
Drawing the soul ever forward,
Promising safety and warmth.
Illumination for life’s paths,
Piercing the darkness with authority.
Captivating in its effortless genius,
God’s awesome “Let there Be”…
A pause to enjoy,
The sustaining crystal flow.
Grasping a clear glimpse,
Of figures unknown.
Oblivious to stature,
In a world of such heights.
With an instinct to survive.
The final Two-for-Tuesday prompt for this month is:
Write a realism poem. A poem that is rooted in the real world. Or…
Write a magical poem. A poem that incorporates magical or fantastical elements.
Rising to greet
The dreams in his mind
Awakening him from slumber
Asleep or awake
Draped in fantasy’s luster
Mysteries unfolding slowly
Eyes half opened and
Peering into enchantment
Created in his mind
Appear in connecting fragments
Weaving yesterday’s remembrances
With futuristic anticipations
He’s lifted to woven plains
Where blank pages lie
To offer up spaces
For forethoughts and remains