Spelunking
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I find myself in a dark barren place
where sweaty palms now attest to my fear.
And with every beat, my heart starts to race
for I can’t see how to get out of here.
Seeking out artifacts from ancient graves
I sift myth from saga, as I explore.
And I’ve a proclivity for dank caves
where my temerity’s trapped me before.
A subtle nuance splits hero from fool
and that fact seeps into my bone marrow.
For there’s an aperture where the air’s cool
but I can’t move, the space is too narrow.
Spelunking should never be done alone
lucky for me there's bars on my cell phone.
(Sonnet)
Nov. 7, 2018
Eight word challenge-9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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