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

Friend of fingers, o keyboard,
Valorous and mild I call thee;
How soft replies, what a mode
Of being handy thou ever apply

I have waited her for so long,
She promised to call here one day,
And my passion enjoyed the waiting play.
I never suspected I’m doing wrong.
In my heart, she shall forever live,
On my hopes, love shall ever thrive;
Her pleasant eyes shall keep me strong,
Wise and with enough stored passion,
Strayed not by time or paled ambition,
I shall meet her where she left,
Wavering between dreams and reality,
I shall touch the waves on her hair,
And kiss her lips as we kissed there,
And rejoice the greatest love’s gift.
O, sweetest promise on paths of ignorance,
Time preens itself in ever spring and glows
With colours of every weather’s ardent rose.
Eating my smiles, my life, and a voiceless chance,
I passed, before a mirror I see my ghost,
A withering figure on that path, gray and lost,
Time ruled, but my love story is the same,
Remains of a lover bides with the same old name.

Mirror mirror on the wall,
Was I always meant to fall?
Roses white, and dying light,
Silver’s sweet forgiving bite,
She'll ask “why?”
No answers found,
And I'll rot deep
Beneath the ground.
For the only kingdom waiting for me,
When I fall to eternal sleep,
Is two feet wide,
And six feet deep.