Clear Sight

For the Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: wordle # 188

resolute, flutter, spills, forgotten, stains, pirouettes,
children, miserable, decision, neglected, cloudy, moments


Clear Sight

Hearts flutter, might stutter for a moment,
when our children pirouette around rules
we have set down. Too often we forget
similar moments from our own growing
experience, block the stain of remembering
our spills from grace and other poor decisions.

Build more mistakes because of these clouded,
often neglected, misperceptions, making
ourselves and others miserable. Jamming
our paths, damming the flow of life and any
way we choose to go, when a resolute promise
to stay honestly open and aware will do.

Elizabeth Crawford  11/23/14

Notes: This seems a bit stiff and didactic to me, but I found it difficult to even find my way through the words this week. They certainly weren’t dancing and I was too tired to attempt to make them do a little more of that. My apologies.

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Metaphorically Speaking

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: wordle #187

tends, sex, yields, palate, toasty,
fresh, soul, lingering, subtle, mix, hints


Metaphorically Speaking

Writing poems can be a bit like having sex
with a stranger. Words tend to emit
a mixture of lingering effects. Some
might suggest a one time toasty hot
encounter, while others hint at a deeper,
more subtle and lingering relationship.

Dependent on the poet’s palate and personal
choice, the subsequent result could yield
fresh, new, and invigorating purpose,
or might bring about a life altering, soul
shattering moment of utter awareness. Either
outcome remains contingent upon the poet’s

continued willingness to fully participate
in her own seduction.

Elizabeth Crawford  11/16/14


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Living Truth

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #186

shine, mud, fervor, birds, thorns, owl,
night, crossroads, crocus, rose, thread, suicide

Heading Home Digital Painting by Elizabeth Crawford

Heading Home
Digital Painting
Elizabeth Crawford

Living Truth

Old truth can become tarnished
with mud through age and ritual.
Become owl perched in a tree
at a crossroads, a nightly suicide bomber
fervently seeking any small movement.

Truth may shine like sunlight on early
crocus breaking through dirty Spring
snow, or become thorns on rose stem,
pricking sting to any finger, bloodying
that one who embraces it.

Truth is a chosen path through life,
and like these thin threads of bird
and blossom, it must always be
a living, breathing thing.

Elizabeth Crawford  11/9/14

Notes: The word crossroads always puts me in mind of Don McLean’s song of the same title, so went and listened to it:

This is a result of that listening and the word list itself. The individual who introduced me to the song, and taught me much about truth, reached out and contacted me yesterday after months of silence. Life is good. The image is one of my first digital paintings and the same individual helped me complete it.


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Under A Jaded Sun

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #185

standing, satisfied, burn, jaded, spark, rain
way, sun, cold, grey, joy, slash

And for Poets United: Poetry Pantry #225

burning bush finala

Under A Jaded Sun

Jaded sun swiftly burns off standing
rain puddles before they are fully
formed, apparently finding peculiar
satisfied joy in its own bright fire.

Old woman looks with tired eyes
at the slowly gathering villagers,
slashes of anger in their stealthy
side-ways glances.

They will demand that she pray
again for cold greyness of a winter
that will never come. They will
destroy her when it doesn’t.

Inwardly, she steels herself for final
confrontation. She forgives them,
these lost children, knowing they know
no other way.

Elizabeth Crawford 11/2/14

Notes: The first verse came almost immediately upon seeing the word list, then I stalled, not knowing where to go. Slept on it, but that first verse stuck and created a rather strange
and eerie image. I won’t blame the words, they are only tools to be used as I choose. I am leaning toward the very real fact that I’ve recently been watching two different but rather dark TV Sci-Fi end of times series. Image was originally a digital painting put through the kaleidoscope app.


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When The Words Say Too Much

For the Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #183

shine, crazy, diamond, martyr, seer, secret,
laughter, prisoner, childhood, steel, stranger, shadow


When The Words Say Too Much

She held the secret
close, prisoner of childhood

Sometimes erupted in crazy
laughter at mere thought
of revelation.

It was a diamond shining
it’s brilliance against
black velvet darkness.

Feared one day a stranger would come,
a seer, slicing her world apart
with the steel of truth,

and she would spew it all out,
because she’d always known she wasn’t
martyr material.

Notes: More often than not, the word list itself suggests a path to follow, or simply remains silent to my utter frustration. This list suggested so many things, starting with Joan of Arc and then rapidly moving on to many other things. It was difficult to curtail the many thoughts running through my mind, but finally got this on paper. But the words didn’t seem satisfied and kept suggesting more. So, you get two poems today and the words just keep on dancing.


Sometimes thought she might be crazy,
holding the secret deep in her heart,
its diamond brilliance eclipsing
even smallest of shadows.

No longer stranger to herself, prisoner
of harsh childhood caught in steel trap
of someone else’s nightmare, no more
a martyr to another’s articles of faith.

Finally free to stand in open sunshine,
feel the breeze against her skin,
and hear the utter joy in her own
bubbling laughter.

Elizabeth Crawford 10/19/14

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Some Thoughts

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #182

machine, flesh, tease, lotion, gimmick, hypnotizing,
lust, chickens, torture, uniform, liquor, brains, trains

And for Poets United poetry prompt: Poetry Pantry #222


Some Thoughts

Although often compared, the mind is not
a machine. It is flesh, a network of blood
cells and muscle.

Human brains are filled with trains of thought
that tease or torture, hypnotizing the individual
into often wasted hours of contemplation.

Add liquor as a soothing lotion and one may
easily get lost wandering winding paths
between love and lust, or worse.

Only periodically uniform, these thought
gimmicks can turn us into chickens, squawking
our fear about never truly understanding anything.

Elizabeth Crawford 10/12/14

Notes: Really didn’t like these words when I first saw them. They didn’t speak to me, only left a blank space. After sleeping on them, I thought I had caught a bit of a glimmer of something intelligible so started. Got to the third stanza and stalled again. Only words left were gimmick, chickens, and uniform. Where do you go with that? Decided to take a break and took a look at Facebook. This was the first post I encountered. Started laughing, came back and finished.


Have a wonderful day.

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Note To The World At Large

For the Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle # 181

sense, speech, sheets, goblets, signs, vital
name, broken, away, strips, connected, poem

and for Poets United poetry prompt: Poetry Pantry #221


Note To The World At Large

It is my wish that this poem
might give you a moment
of pause, of connection.

Not that it be a vital sign
of gravest importance, or carry
you away on wings of rapture.

We live in a broken world.
Many of us own holes in our souls
and lack knowledge of how to mend them.

This little speech can’t stitch together
all that has been stripped from our sense
of rightness and knowing.

Though even our names may no
longer be of much value, I want
you to know that in this moment

I cherish the fact
that you are alive,
still breathing.

Elizabeth Crawford 10/5/14

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