A vivid highway scene from 2014.
A vivid highway scene from 2014.
Unbound by life,
Cool breeze in my air,
Me and the highway,
Unbound, going anywhere
Unbound by family,
Just me and the wind,
Vegas: Maximum Win
The top is down,
Ironsides are spinning,
The fire in my eyes,
My true life is beginning
In my blue dream open,
The evening sky calm,
No tension in my palms
And I just want to scream
And I might want to cry
The excitement in my heart
Not wanting this to die
And along that empty desert road
A freedom was found
A king and his car hit the ground
So I’ve always had dreams that I was racing along some road, maybe all by myself or frantically trying to weave through dangerous traffic. I can’t legally drive a car in real life because I still don’t have my license so it is still my dream someday to be able to go anywhere I want without first having to ask someone for a ride (which would help with finding a job in far flung places). God, I just love writing poetry!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
Musical highway, the notes were just right
Tripping down the melodic avenue
Hearing the rhythm shake the night
The way the midnight song
Seemed to awaken my senses
I could see and hear the world
Really feel like I was the one strumming with my appendages
And now as the sound of man and machine meet
And this huge city keeping swaying to the beat
I relax and let the moonlight take me away
Rolling down the musical highway
Until the reality of life meets me in the day
Weekly Photo Challenge: Depth
This is solitude to me. There is nothing around in the dark field and the trees are still and barren. While riding along on the highway a few nights ago, I noticed how beautiful the sky looked and was glad I had my camera phone with me, snapping a number of pictures as the car rushed on by. After a series of blurry pictures of no particular value, I finally got this one that captured this pink, purple, and blue canvas in fine detail. This picture seems so peaceful. There are no disturbances. As the cars on the highway rush by, people busy, busy with their lives, this field under a dreamy sky remains quiet and in solitude.
This is an even better example of solitude. The lone grave marking, a cross commemorating a war veteran of my town. The idea that no one else has been laid down to rest here is so poetic. The trees in the background against an all white sky paint an image of heaven for me. So tall and graceful. Solitude could not be described any better in my mind than having a cemetery all to oneself, undisturbed by other souls. There is always a cold, chilly feeling that goes through me whenever I walk by this. I can almost imagine the ghost of the war veteran rising up out of the grave, gliding over to the fence to speak to me, or just staring back at me from afar as I walk on by. The thought of walking into this field of peace and tranquility intrigues me. There are no sounds in this area except the soft whisper of the wind.
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