The inspiration of spring and believing in one's dreams.

The beauty of the world is abound.  It is a muse to be found.

The clouds alone are the tentative strokes of God’s white-dipped paintbrush upon his blue canvas.

Our world is his creation.

In my mind my dreams reached conception.

I looked upon afraid to dwell.

There was so much I dared to tell.

Doubt and fear worked to paralyze my mind.

My adventure I almost surrendered.

The voice I longed to share became mute,

 and I became deaf to even the motivation of music.

Without using my imagination I fell lost with no temptation of explanation.

Did this mean that my dream was no longer meant for the world to see?

Is thirty-three to late to be?

No!

I am still me with my Chuck Taylors parked next to my four inch stilettos.

Collecting a lot of bucks to buy soulless possessions was never my intention.

To tell a story has always been my true obsession.

I have been given the colors.

My canvas is still mine to create.

To me bestowed such great inspiration.

I aspire to trek in many directions.

The horizon before me lie as wide as I imagine forever.

The map of my life is mine to design.

I believe in today and I cannot wait to live my tomorrow.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Spring Break Beach Blast

Blasts of blazing rays warm the beach while people lay listening to sizzling summer beats.

Even if the season has not arrived, here summer is always alive.

Muscled- lean men make their way through the surf,

carving through the water like a sculptor’s hand.

Light glistening off their bodies enticing my thirst as I pass by.

New ones come to check the scene.  Bright red eyes hidden beneath black shades.

Regretting last night’s fun as their whiskey breath haunts their brains. 

They should have been here with the early morning sun.

Now, the wind will hinder their fun.

Bright bikinis leaving most bare.

Young men glancing admiring what they think is under there.

Up above planes fly by.

All inside new adventures do they ride.

In the distance, a misty haze blankets the bathing beauties.

The sun’s rays shower the sand.

Out beyond exist so many shades of blue that they make me think of all the beauty too.

People play. Smiles wide.

Plastic cups filled with liquid ready to fog their time.

Bare backsides bring about spanking sounds

Dirty old minds even filthier than mine

So many gather for so different reasons.

Old friends return to meet again.

Decades past that they feel went real fast.

Yet their laughter will always last.

Leathered men in speedos clad winking with a smirk as I run by.

Chiseled abs throw around a ball by the sea .

Tattoos half seen makes me wonder what is hidden underneath.

What guilty thoughts are overwhelming me.

My poor calves succumb to cramps but my mind is greedy and refuses to hear their rants.

It is the beach that all this thrives. 

It is the beach where summertime forever is alive.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Your demise of the hate that you began

Vultures come to clear the land from the death that you began.

Your putrid smell reeks of your dishonesty.

Plead upon your knees.

Your fears are your disease.

Success you will not see.

You’re condemned.

Your peace will never be.

You spit upon your conscience.

Your goodness suffocated by your greed.

Now you’re left abandoned.

No consolation will you receive.

Guilt is your only company.

You use your convictions as an excuse for your destruction.

Calling upon others to sacrifice for an unknown stand.

Yet your cause is not so righteous for you to lose a hand.

Using empty words you spray hatred upon the land.

Your voice you raised above, yet only your ignorance was heard.

The death of your obsession has finally occurred.

Your insolent anger will not destroy the hope in which we are.

In the end, your legacy will not survive.

Because we move on.

Forward.

Passionate

and Alive.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Until we meet again

Goodbye dear friend

Soon I hope we will meet again.

There were so many words that I should have shared to show you how much I cared.

For so long before you left, hidden in the distance, I loved you from afar.

Our secret talks.

Your voice I still hear.

I will forever keep it in my heart.

I wish my memory of you were stronger.

The last time that I saw you,  I wanted so much to tell you how I felt.

My courage was dashed when I saw how much anguish you held inside.

Your soul was only waiting for its release.

In this life, you were not meant to be.

Although too short, your presence here was profound.

I may never know how you felt,

but the secrets we told and the dreams we spoke of will be my treasure.

Your forever effect upon me.

So much time has gone by.

My silent heartache has slowly healed, yet through the years I still dream of you.

I hope up in heaven you hear all the words that I always wished to say.

To me, you will always be my smile forevermore laughing.

Our sunshine in the sky.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

In the eyes of the victor

In the eyes of the victor, one sees glory.

A feeling of satisfaction sought and finally achieved

The athlete deserving of his medal

Fighting to be the best

A history of legends fighting for their position.

Nothing else exists except victory.

A battle to the finish

Where the winner wins

And the one who loses must watch and question

A lifetime of dreaming

Made a reality within a minute or a nightmare for eternity.

Should there be only one?

With the best of the best can there be a loser?

If one beats the quest within himself, then what in life can be a greater accomplishment?

In the eyes of the victor, one can do anything.

Whatever it may; maybe within one.

In the eyes of the winner, saying no is not a choice

In the eyes of the victor, the win is worth the fight.

For the fight is the battle in the glory of the game.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Your love will be my guide

Your goodbye I wanted to deny.

The tears I cried I wanted to despise.

You left me here feeling lost in time.

The pain inside still burning.

An endless dark sea of my misery I pleaded to recede

or rise above until I fell below. My last breath taken.

My own self-pity was my disease.

My cure lie no further than the love I kept for you inside.

My self-destruction was working to blind me.

Remembering your faith in me gave me strength to see.

To give up would be to abandon you.

To love you, I had to have courage to move forward in time.

Your love was my redemption.

The salvation of my darkened-tortured soul.

I will keep your memory alive by living my life as you described.

Your dreams of tomorrow.  Sunsets and sunrises.

It will be my adventure but imagined by you.

The words to which you shared telling me just how much you cared will be my guide forever mine.

You gave to me your love, my happiness and my second chance,

But your greatest gift of all was teaching me forgiveness and hope in each other .

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

A Place of My Own

Tears build up but are not shed.

I work so hard to reach out, but in this circle, I am stuck running.

I cannot walk in a straight line when my thoughts are fostered in a zig zag.

I am a shape without a spot to fit.

The circles have declared that I am too square,

yet my angles are to curved to fit in with those who have such sharp edges.

I have been left in between.

Even though I refuse to give up, each rejection places more despairing weight upon my chest.

Their hurtful declarations have become the led that holds my feet down as I try to run free.

I tell my unshed tears that I am too strong, yet they still threaten to fall.

I want to scream the words of surrender,

but with this thought, I realize to give up is to end.

It is then that I know to push on.

Reaching ahead.  Not afraid to fall.

I do not belong because I want to reach for it all.

Silent doubt I work to overcome as I work to make my very own place in this world.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill