Endless

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #309
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

mean, carry, poor, trigger, born, sea,
nothing, shake, beam, post, pick, string

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle # 121
http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/

hate, bliss, rapture, wig, lips, sandals,
loathe, dents, draw, relapse, broccoli, delight

Endless

Pick at string of memories
triggered by mean sea
of nothing and everything.

Would prefer to beam them
out into stratosphere, shake
loose of this burden I carry

but, was born tied to metal
post, sometimes called
rapid recall.

Poor excuse, when delight
and bliss suddenly transform
into hate and loathing.

Then swiftly relapse into
the blandness of broccoli
boiled to worn sandal leather.

Even a wig of natural curls
might be drawn to straightness
by these dents of curving mind tricks.

Lips would pray for a moment of blank
rapture, but at my age, that sounds
too much like death.

Elizabeth Crawford  7/23/2017

Notes: Been a while since I did both word lists. Started with one, but had to go get the other to finish my train of thought. Did use all of the words. Image is a hand drawn, pen and ink zendala with an added bit of color.

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Movement

Movement

Outside
thunder rumbles
from
distance.

Inside
raindrops
pearl every
window.

Deep within
quiet stillness
awaiting
direction.

Elizabeth Crawford  7/12/2017

Posted at Poets United: Mid-Week Motif -Movement
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

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How Much?

How Much?

How much would you give
to see another defeated?
A day of your life in sunlight?
Pain of scraped raw knuckles
smashed against bony jaw,
or sharp teeth?

How much would you give
to see another on his knees,
head bent in defeat, shoulders
slumped forward waiting
for the next blow?

How much would you give
to see blood bursting from lips,
eyes swollen shut, turning deep
purple and blue?

Would your lips curl in a grin
of victory? Would you dance your
glee around that other? Take a photo,
so you can finger it years later,
lingering to remember how much
your hatred might have cost you?

Elizabeth Crawford  6/28/2017

Notes: Posted to Poets United: Mid-Week Motif – War and Peace
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

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Dialogue on War and Peace

Dialogue on War and Peace

What is War?

Humanity marking it’s territory
like any other creature.
Drawing a line, then saying,
“You don’t look like me,
don’t think, or speak like me.
You don’t belong in my space.
If you cross this line
I have drawn,
I must destroy you.”

What is Peace?

Calmness that comes from within.
A soul seeking ultimate goal
of wholeness, to be found
in acceptance of whatever
comes.

What destroys Peace?

Fear.

Fear of what?

Of not belonging.

How does one conquer such fear?

Through acceptance. That it exists
in self, and in all others.

We all share the same fear?

Yes. Allowing it to drive us
is what causes War.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/28/2017

Note: Image is from the internet.

Poets United: Mid-Week Motif – War and Peace
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

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Half Lotus

Half Lotus

Everyday I sit
in this huge leather
chair, legs crossed
in yoga style called
a ‘half-lotus’ pose.

Started as a child
when short stature
didn’t allow feet
to rest firmly
on the floor.

Causing discomfort
when I’d rise
and a stumbling
gait from lack
of circulation.

Severe spinal stenosis
continues to cause pain,
as spine slowly collapses
in tiny increments
that steal height.

Doctor says, at my age,
the way I sit might be
the only reason
I remain mobile,
albeit, with a cane.

And I must wonder,
if the way I sit
is the reason I see
the world so differently
than many others.

Through a lens
of metaphor and simile,
meditative imagery,
that still awes me,
like that child

of shortened stature.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/21/2017

Notes: Image is from the internet.

Posted for Poets United: Mid-Week Motif – Yoga
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

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Caught: a Haibun

For Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #116
http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/

running, again, knee, father, girl, bends,
way, legs, angel, where, smiling, thank

For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #304
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

whistle, touch, wheel, word, gnaws, ring,
prints, apart, broken, echo, thread, fall

And Poets United: Poetry Pantry #358
poetryblogroll.blogspot.com

Caught: a Haibun

Barely whistle at the words as they gnaw at whatever blocks their entrance at the broken through door of my abilities. Like an echo, they thread a path into my awareness, leaving muddy paw prints on this carpet of conscious knowing. Attempt to wheel away from their ever-reaching touch, but they ring through my being of blue-indigo twilight, like church bells, announcing evening’s Angelus. Calling me apart, to fall to my only figuratively bended knees, while thinking of the tom-boy girl, grinning to be fishing with her father. Running, once again, on sturdy legs, where Bay meets the shore with the kiss of an unknown angel. Eternally thankful for this much simpler way of being, breathing in sunlight dancing on water, as bobber disappears, then bounces back into sight, and tug on reeled in line promises one more perch.

Words whisper of need
to know clear definition
So, I write the poem.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/18/2017

Notes: Biographical. A few months ago, I realized that I’d been using the two word lists for a very long time. Wanted something different, so switched gears. And was just fine with that. However, each week, I would still go take a look at the words, telling myself I was done with all of that. Wanted to write something different, like a Haibun.

Earlier this week, my sister picked me up and took me out to the mouth of the Fox River. There was no one else at the small park, but by the time we had finished chatting, at least six men had come singly, one at a time, to fish off the bordering boulders. Only one of the men was catching anything, good sized perch from what I could see. As I watched, one of the other fishermen walked over and talked to the gentleman catching fish. Told my sister that the first guy must be using the right bait, as the second one walked back, switched bait and also started catching perch.

I had my camera with me and was far more interested in the variety of birds I was seeing. Turned that into an essay at: https://1sojournal.wordpress.com/2017/06/16/at-the-mouth-of-the-river/  including some of the photos.

On Friday, I once again perused the word lists, and moved on, but couldn’t find anything I really wanted to post for today. But, the words kept whispering to me, so I went and took another look. Decided that I would try to use them, but only if I could do it using the Haibun form. Not realizing, until I finished, that I was the only large perch that had been caught.

Image is a photo of my father, as I most often remember him. Love you Dad, and miss you as always. Thank you for giving me the love of Nature and the encouragement to follow my own inner leading.

I did use all of the words. Happy Father’s Day to one and all.

 

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