Life’s path, shaky.
Edges contort with uncertainty.
Mistaking vertigo for safety,
Due to its familiarity.
One step at a time, mere cliche.
Each step is taken with sway,
Time is set on perpetual replay.
No forward progression, continual delay.
Eyes half open for fear of the truth.
Masked reality with everything to prove.
Lucid while dreaming, collecting real wounds.
Questioning the concept of being bulletproof.
©2017 Elizabeth Dianne Allee
Image Credit: https://etchepare.deviantart.com/art/Lost-in-forest-IV-72497842
Lake Mead, NV
Through the glass,
My paddle passes.
Breaking gently into tiny pieces,
Rapidly repairing placidity.
Awkwardly rhythmic row after another,
Propels me toward my destination of non-specificity.
The depth of the water below varies,
As time and distance pass.
And my fear is directly correlated with that depth,
Yet the fear is thrilling…
The heat of the sun,
The wayward frigid splashing from my paddle,
Balance my experience beautifully.
October kayak in Nevada, upon Lake Mead.
With mountains cradling crisp clear waters,
Sets my spirit free…
My cloud isn’t pink
How long, I wonder
Will I feel this way
No purple sunsets
In my mind
Only thumbnail moons
In darkened nights
I question the future
Days I’ve left to live
How many times I will
Fall into the same abyss
I ride a magic carpet
In my dreams
I watch my journey
From above the trees
Trying to escape
Than the previous times
I’ve lost my way
My cloud’s no longer pink
It’s, YET AGAIN, a hopeless gray…
Windows down on journey
Warm sun upon my face
Hair tangling in the wind
Concerns, but a trace.
Sky blue, with white cotton drops
iPod shuffle serenades me
Only happy songs allowed to stay
Feeling the high of a needed upswing!
How great to ride
Rather than drive…
Poetry will find it’s own way,
Once it receives the poet’s breath.
Dancing with wings to life’s ballet
A poet’s heart to be confessed.
When by beauty, it’s been caressed,
Poetry shares it’s gifts of light.
Opening minds which were oppressed,
So heart and soul will reunite.
A Spanish form of poetry, the huitain revolves around the number eight – there are eight lines in the poem, and each line contains eight syllables. The rhyme scheme is ababbcbc. That’s all there is to it! (http://www.elfwood.com/farp/thewriting/27brianforms/27brianforms.html#ethere)
Shadows cast are in constant flux,
Light and dark coexist in motion.
The sun’s varying intensities,
Are accompanied by shade’s cool devotion.
From dawn’s arrival to dusk’s departure,
And all ephemeral moments between.
Are the unknowns of one’s existence,
Set faithfully adrift upon life’s journey.