For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #191

loser, tangle, say, endeavor, spacecraft, lunatic,
planets, angels, tread, forever, spread, spinning


Self Portrait


Sometimes felt like a loser, a lunatic
forever spinning through life in her small
spacecraft of hope, even though she
knew what many said about not entering
where angels fear to tread.

A tangled endeavor at best, this attempt
to spread a web of cheer and kindness
on this fast dying planet of seeming uncaring.
Yet, she found herself continuing to plant seeds:
one good deed after another.

Elizabeth Crawford  12/14/14

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About Memory

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle 190

cave, haze, cape, traipse, chains, deranged,
filet, strain, sustain, feign, enflame, exchange

dragons lair3

About Memory

Memories might feign a cape of innocence
as they traipse down a sunlit path,
while some seem to come from a dark inner place.

A deep dank cave where souls might be chained,
filleted like fish, with sharp cutting instruments
made from momentary mistakes in the past.

Can easily enflame a haze of deranged self-hatred
which strains to sustain some permanent mark
of punishment, or even worse: complete destruction.

Exchanging that darkness with the light
of forgiveness allows one to finally see
that no one among us is perfect.

Elizabeth Crawford 12/7/14


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Somewhere In Time

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #189

gathering, able, gaze, breeze, secular, skin,
rattle, plain, scattered, splendor, harvest, bent


Somewhere In Time

They came like leaves scattered on a breeze
that bent scrawny trees and rattled loose

A plain woman, more secular than spirit
driven, she was able to feel them gathering
just beneath the thin skin of memory.

In this quiet place, she could turn her gaze
inward, to reap the harvest splendor of those
she had loved and been loved by.

Elizabeth Crawford  11/30/14

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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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