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  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/


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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Un-Heard of Riches

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #179

live, give, heart, gold, expression, searching,
old, ocean, mind, keep, miner, crossed

And for Poets United: Poetry Pantry # 219


Un-Heard of Riches   

In my old age am aware of living,
of giving away an ocean of expression.
Have criss-crossed both heart and mind
searching for gold buried in deepest ocean
of memories.

And like a miner, prospector of long ago,
have withheld a few of those precious nuggets.
Keeping them for self. Believing them to be
most prized and personal of possessions.

Elizabeth Crawford  9/21/14

Notes: This one was difficult. As soon as I saw the list, I immediately began to hear the song in my head and it refused to be banished no matter how I tried. Almost gave up, but finally found a way around the song, almost. Image is a photo of a backyard bon-fire put through the kaleidoscope app.

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A Certain Type of Anxiety

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #178


hospital, tests, anxiety, fluff, words, ouch,
pester, blood, know, meal, center, jello

A Certain Type of Anxiety

Remember test anxiety?
How blood suddenly felt thicker,
making knees wobble like jello
and eating a meal was unthinkable?

Didn’t make any difference
if it was words or numbers
one needed to know, mind
became nothing but fluff.

Could poke, prod, and pester
but at center there was only
a blank space, emptiness filled
with the ouch of doubt about knowing.

Age puts school long behind me, yet
still feel chilly chiming echo when
doctor says she needs tests done
at hospital.

Elizabeth 9/14/14

Notes: Have to admit the rebel in me rebels when the word list seems to have a particular bent or focus. This one seemed that way to me and I almost walked away from it. Took a while but finally realized I could write about test anxiety, but that left a few of the words hanging out there in the wind until I realized that test anxiety is still a factor in my reality.

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Words :1- Elizabeth :0

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #177


horses, signal, bullets, thrust, plant, dismal,
edge, spot, rose, locks, ball, meandering

Words :1 – Elizabeth :0

Today, I ran away from the words.
But they refused my most adamant
signals, thrusting themselves
into meandering edge of awareness.

Wanted to punch them down like a ball
of bread dough, but they just kept rising,
buzzing at my ear like a dismal cloud
of ravenous locusts.

Wild horses trampling fragile plants
in my quiet garden of consciousness,
or bullets locked onto chosen target
of rather spotty perceptions.

Throwing hands in air, I conceded,
while they dared to cheer.

Elizabeth Crawford  9/7/14

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Flight Of Fancy

For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #175

Image from Internet

Image from Internet

stutter, cliff, rickety, bones, cart, absence
rift, flight, longing, sustain, baffles, language

Flight of Fancy

Dried bits of bone stutter
in grumbling guttural
language with every
movement of the rickety cart

as it is pulled painstakingly
up path leading to the cliff
edge by equally old, weary donkey.
In absence of logical reason,

imagination creates baffling
image of two eagles longing
to sustain, even in death, flight
over ancient rift that used to be


Elizabeth Crawford 8/24/14

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