i want to drive through the imagery
of cruising down the highway,
your dozing off figure in the passenger
and as the night wears on
and the miles pile up
we stop at a 7-11 for slurpies
and you blast Hollywood Undead
just like you always do.
windows rolled down,
summer evening breeze parading
and the chirps of diligent spring peepers
or cicadas chiming in,
and just ******* lose ourselves
in a place that is anywhere but here.

Zinging the zen-zone I was in
A zany request zig-zagged my way.
Princess Zinnia from the Zuider-Zee
Required a zippy line or two
To paint the zeitgeist of our times.

With the strength of a Zamboni-
With the power of a Zeus-
And an uncommon zeal I set out
To zap the doubt that slowed me.

With the flair of a Florenz Ziegfeld
And his zoftig choir of beauties,
I morphed into a zealot
Gamboling in the zephyrs
That wafted in from Zurich and Zaire,
Not to mention Zanzibar.

I felt like a Zacharias
When my zealous work went bust.
The writing turned into a zonk-
The accolades were zilch.
I felt like I’d been zippered up
Like a zebra in a zoo.

I lost my zest for going on
And slopped around in old Zoris,
Listening to zydeco’s beat
And feeling like a zit.

But then the Zodiac-
My zinging-singing sign
Came to my rescue
And I was marching off to Zion.

I was one wowie-zowie-zucchini
As I zipped across the pages
And zoomed from one idea
To an even zippier one.

So here, Sunprincess, is your verse
I’ve used up every letter zee
And gone from very bad to worse
But of this challenge, I am free.
                         ljm

At night in the hamlet, a noise broke the silence. A quite small pixie named Stick
Was napping in the forest just round midnight or so, she fancied she heard
Her name being called thru the wood by some lover. She sat there by her snail shell hut like an intoxicated hobbit, then she crept on down to the dale, and spied
Wee little fireflies dancing in the air like nightlights flown by daring pilots with no particular place to go.

By avenues vague and secret,
visited by devils and regret,
whither the Wraith of Manes
stands firm and tall and reigns,
thither in the dark acres stead;
and like a vapor inside my head,
lingers there to haunt and spread.

Abysmal troughs and a great deluge,
and rifts, and dens, and silva's huge,
with silhouette's none can recover
for the weeps that pour all over;
ridges plunging into Nevermore,
into waters devoid of any shore;
swells that spasmodically aspire,
upsurging in welkins full of fire.

For in my soul regrets are legion,
but it's an irenic and placid region-
because the wraith which did haunt,
is now seen as wispy, thin, and gaunt.
I wend my way straight through him,
and I refuse to ever again view him.
The Wraith of Manes is now banished,
from terrible dreams, now vanished.

I am in everything.
I am in nothing.
What am I?

Drifting through those foggy years
wading through the pain and tears
sorting out the right from wrong
Letting go and moving on

Standing taller than before
understanding lies were told
Living in your sordid past
Innocence fell hard and fast

Moving forward forgiving all
hoping your not feeling small
for acting out on misplaced trust
betrayal.. cloaked by  lust

Here today I set you free
all the anger holding me
the weight that held me down
Shed that skin upon the ground

Tomorrow I will look at thee
as someone whom I miss dearly
but today your actions set the course
for the path that you have chose