.:: Ocean ::.The ocean was still, while she was adriftstill amazed that she could leave.Through her memories she did siftand dreams did she weave;until she came upon a shackfilled with some food and some crumb.Still, she feared the attackthe pounding of the drum.The panic had made her slight,waiting until silence to become glutted;her bodice feeling tight.Soon days passed, quickly becoming rutted,and desperate to take a brake-back to the ocean she did take.
Song, Dance, Rhythm, Rhyme:..The song, the dance, the rhythm, the rhyme,sounds of bells echoing with their chime,all things make good in some time.Some would say, a passive crimeif not for things ripe in primethe song, the dance, the rhythm, the rhyme.When everyone must make the climband never stop on a dimeall things make good in some time.Never like a silent mimeand never sour like limethe song, the dance, the rhythm, the rhyme.Quick, something else that rhymes with time,nothing else?! How about meter?All things make good in some time.So maybe now this poem teeters,it really didn't get much sweeter.The song, the dance, the rhythm, the rhyme,all things make good in some time.
Dreamscapes::.I can not describe how it feels,the sun beating down on my facewarming my cheeks.The pull and push of the oceanagainst my legs.Peace is at hand,tranquility and warmthsoaking into my blood.A fish swims by;it's whiskers brushing against my thighs.leaving brush strokes as they do,the ink diffusing into the water.It taints the clear liquid blackas the swirling patterns are disrupted.My eyes look down, my legs move of their own accordwading deeper into the water, the pull moving me forward.The higher it rises, the colder it becomes;confusion crossing my brow.Looking forward I see a dark shadow,racing towards me.Suddenly enveloped in the darkness,I am weightless.My body free to move as it pleases,suspended in gravity.Here there is no sound, nothing to smell or see.Just clarity, a refreshing cold that cleanses me.A chime rings through the empty,and I close my eyes, feeling the vibrations;the hair on my skin standing upright.When I open them, I am no lon