The Aspiring Bard

My photo Rusty cliffs Of gently weathered stone Stand guard Against the gale Of discontent. 

I almost didn't post this, because I wasn't sure about it. At all. I've never written anything quite like this before... Source Water closed over her head, the waves buffeted her body, and she was being tossed and tumbled. The great ocean had her in its grip, and she was afraid. She felt the panic rising inside her - that old, familiar helplessness. She was a little girl again, tiny, vulnerable, holding tight to someone's hand. She was the teenager making excuses to stay out of the river because there was no-one to hold her hand. She was sinking beneath the surface, where she would be lost forever in a dark, airless world. Her heart raced in terror, and she fought the urge to struggle - to waste her strength in lashing out wildly and blindly at the imprisoning sea. Cramps seized her legs as her muscles tensed. Air escaped her mouth in frantic bubbles. She gritted her teeth. Fear must not win this time. Squeezing both eyes tightly shut, she conjured the impre...

Time A curved perfection, There upon the sand - I sifted out the worries From the crevice of my hand. Far away the roaring Of the breakers and the tide - The crash of expectation - My swift, Unhurried stride Carries me out further To a place beneath the sky, The gentle ocean sighing, Hours drifting by.