Teetering

Once more I'm staring into the abyss,

down in the shadows,  hear the Sirens’ call--

like waking dreams, where something is amiss,

their echoes rise against the sheer rock wall.

Again, I'm standing on this precipice;

I teeter on the edge, try not to fall

What happened to the path, no longer clear?

Will anybody see me disappear?

© Copyright Ginny Brannan June 2010
(Thanks to LP and MJM for their invaluable help!)

Shared at One Stop Poetry, One Shot Wednesday 6/09/2011 
Shared at Jingle Poetry, Poetry Potluck 6/20/2011  

Internet Image: "Precipice"

Against the Night (Ottava Rima)

We send our soldiers off to foreign land,

to fight for rights for those who are oppressed,

while other countries watch us make a stand

and call us names, and say we are "obsessed.”

So quick are they to burn us with this 'brand.'

Do they forget the freedoms we’ve addressed?

We each are born with basic human rights--

they’d rather judge, with vicious words indict.

I’ve read our “nose is where it don’t belong;”

we’re “tracking ghosts” that really don’t exist.

But who can say who’s right or who is wrong,

or if  we’re chasing shadows in the mist?

They tell us we should “try to get along,”

while evil waits to strike with angry fist.

I'm glad our soldiers guard against the night

protecting me,  and all who cannot fight.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan Memorial Day, May 2011

Photo: http://recycle4acause.wordpress.com

Ottava Rima is an 8 line poem, Rhyme scheme a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c, 10 to 11 syllables per line, usually iambic pentameter.