.
Teetering on a tightrope
Hanging on a shelf
Grasp with frozen fingertips
While the moon hangs itself
Reality is become fiction
And fiction doesn’t exist
Solid ground falls away
Leaving space in its place
Heads spin on shoulders
Wi(l)de-eyed at far-off visions
Sense-less dreams of peace
On our bleeding earth
.
©Denise G Allen, 23 March 2013 03:54
Adeeyoyo's Blog 
23/03/2013 at 5:33 am
whew…what a verse….love the word play…wi(l)de life….ha..that middle stanza bears the weight for me…reality becoming fiction…wish would could find lasting peace on this earth…
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24/03/2013 at 4:41 am
I wish that too, Brian, with all my heart.
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23/03/2013 at 11:36 am
Bleeding earth indeed Denise. I have to creep inside my shell and try and make the world immediately around me the best I can.
Worrying about the big picture is not good for my health!
John
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24/03/2013 at 4:45 am
Our earth is bleeding all its resources, never mind its beauty and variety, slowly but surely, John.. But you know we don’t really need to worry if we have faith.
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23/03/2013 at 5:05 pm
Well done, Denise – a reality shake, & it seems increasingly difficult to discern where one thing ends & another begins… Love “Wi(l)de-eyed” & “Sense-less” as descriptors, & the moon hanging itself seems so grim.. but then, these are grim times, aren’t they?
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24/03/2013 at 4:48 am
They are grim, Ruth, because the world powers seem either unable or unwilling to remedy the situation other than by making really insignificant attempts.
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24/03/2013 at 3:48 am
Suspenseful and fearful, but fait accompli? You will forgive me for holding a more positive contrarian view but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying your beautiful poem.
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24/03/2013 at 4:50 am
Thanks, Mike. It is nice to hear a more optimistic view… 🙂
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24/03/2013 at 8:39 pm
Wow, excellent!
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25/03/2013 at 5:43 am
Thank you so much, Zirkie, for visiting my blog and for commenting. I appreciate it very much!
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