hand
                    over
                                    hand

step       by step

crossing this wretched foot bridge

large          g ap  s                   loom

don't look down
         down
down

towards the scrabbling masses
reaching up
                          up
                                                 up

to
tear you from your perch

head up
      hands on the rope
         your feet walking in faith.

only then,

will you reach

your
   heart's
        desire.

The face of time shows no age.
Merely continues its forward motion.
Marking movement of life and loss
The hands tick ever round and round
Never looking back, always forward
What is, only is, in the moment
And then is not.

Here lies my body
my life-long shell.
Worked through the grind
and finally fell.

Lying postmortem
on this cold table.
The reaper calls,
"Come, you are able."

An undertaker prepares
to hammer the stones
Of my final resting place
sepulcher for my bones.

Resting in pieces
all through the years.
Time washes away
lost memories' tears.

© 2011 Judy Ponceby

So, let's see, cheeriness personified.
****** if I can think of anything depressing.
Again and again, my mind goes on ever and ever,
In search of that infernal lightening rod
To which the dark and dreary are attracted.
And yet, butterflies and billowing clouds,
erupt magnificently in full bloom.
Hiding in the nooks of my cranium
fluffy bunnies and poofy flowers.
Anything really to while away the hours.
And so I write about grand battles,
frogs on crack, and ladies in your lap.
Seems this perky cheeriness is infectious....

A wink and a nod to my friend Frank. ;)

Aloft in my helium balloon
I watch the cloud formation.
White puffs of water vapor
Play scenes of battle simulation.

Of great dragon wars
and vast rebel forces
Colliding with hellspawn
and gladiators with horses.

Soldiers impaled on billowing swords,
Dragons in full embattled flight,
Brash vivid images up in the heavens
Lead to victorious imaginings this night.

Deep and resonant crying
Calling out forlornly
into unfamiliar
ocean depths.

The eerie echo of my voice
sounding through the sea.

Seeking solace in the familiar
But naught familiar here.

Lost at Sea.

Strange waterscapes passing by
my massive form.

Gliding easily, powerfully through
unrecognizable ocean currents.

Calling, calling, calling.

Searching Endlessly.

Rising to breathe from Earth's sweet air.
To take in the brief moment of transition
from water to air and back.

Rolling over the surface,
my tail a flag of despair,
my dive into deep crevasse,
Desperate.  Lost.  Alone.

Searching, searching for my home.

I make the perilous trek

To the front of the class.

My palms dampen.

I pray not too look an ***.



I feel nauseated from the

Butterflies behind my navel.

As I look out across the faces

My voice turns to gravel.



Raspy words escape.

My voice unable to recant

The terror that shakes my words

As I address my audience.



I realize I have many kindred

Among my audience, but

This does nothing to temper the fear

Of Public Speaking 101