A Child’s Laughter

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #67

have, reason, filled, when, room, child,
love, irrational, blooms, wild, season, bright

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #256

wit, twinkle, shock, quilt, weep, warmth,
spice, laugh, lift, can, grow, bird

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #310

Betty Lou Crawford age 2

A Child’s Laughter

A room filled with childish laughter
blooms with bright warmth no matter
the season, or reason for wild antics
that may have brought on such music.

Spills a quilt of love over its occupants
and lifts spirits like small birds playing
in sunlight. Can grow a twinkle in eye
of sadness, that might have wept only

a moment before. Shock irrational fear
into making an exit, or turn it into wit
when sprinkled into that space like spice
of long ago, fresh baked apple pie.

Elizabeth Crawford 7/9/16

Notes: When I first saw the two word lists, the image of a room resounding children’s laughter came into my head. Wouldn’t go away, so it became the poem. Used all of the words. Photo is me at age two and a half.



Posted in A Child's Laughter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

About That First Poem

For Poets United: Poetry Pantry #309


About That First Poem

I think that we’re beginning to remember that the first poets didn’t come out of a classroom, that poetry began when somebody walked off of a savanna or out of a cave and looked up at the sky with wonder and said, “Ahhh.” That was the first poem.

___Lucille Clifton

Do you remember that first time?
Lying on your back, looking up
at a midnight blue sky, seeing
your first shooting star?

Shimmering light, moving
with speed, a streak against
that deep blue velvet. Straight
line focus of absolute certainty,
there and then gone.

No matter the hours, days,
months or years, you will
wait. Yearning to catch
another such glimpse,

longing to see, to hear again
the poem it left singing silently
in your soul.

Elizabeth Crawford  7/3/16

Notes: Spent some time this past week exploring quotes about writing poetry. Found this gem from one of my favorites and my thoughts began dancing. That happens a lot.




Posted in About That First Poem | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Finding The Right Medicine

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #257

drizzle, rot, roots, diamonds, trail, tunnel,
swift, heaven, peak, weeping, medicine, saint

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #65

single, empty, dandelion, spool, aflame, wanton,
flaring, wildflowers, poppies, coastal, innocent, coat

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #308

Scan_20151228 (2)a

Finding The Right Medicine

They certainly are not diamonds,
these dandelion roots of words
wantonly sprawling themselves
across single sheet of white paper.

Leave a senseless trail spooling out,
foolish empty rot of nonsense
that tunnels beneath surface of any
innocent purpose under heaven.

A weeping saint, aflame with fervor,
could not swiftly put an end
to mindless drizzle of black ink
that furs this coat of wild creativity.

Seeking inner calm, close eyes to see
coastal peak, field of wildflowers, bright
red poppies flaring their heads in golden
sunlight. Once again, at peace.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/26/16

Notes: This one came in pieces, one stanza at a time. Each, several hours apart. Used all of the words, one in the Title.

Image is one of my templates colored with Artists Pens, with a digital background.




Posted in Finding The Right Medicine | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Would Be King

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #64

roses, plea, mud, thorns, sins, sense,
loathsome, love, canker, bud, thief, sweet

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #256

erupt, shimmering, crow, paint, shadow, fury,
ripple, boiling, rise, swarm, park, sweep

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #307


Would Be King

The crow erupts from the roses,
shimmering shadow of glistening
feathers and fury. Cawing his plea
that we rise up, stop this swarming
nonsense that would paint love,
and gentle compassion as a canker
sweeping out to destroy our world.

That somehow loathsome, barbed
wire walls of boiling hatred should
replace the sweet sense of understanding
and forgiveness. That thorny sins
of bigotry and mud slinging would
better serve our purpose. That violence
and war are better than hard won peace.

How long will it take before we know
that this thief has only his own purpose
in mind. That he feeds on rippling fear
and the growing bud of blind ignorance?
That his only wish is to park his butt
on a throne so he might declare himself,
King. Lord, of all he sees.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/19/16

Notes: The crow is a symbol of higher law. That which is above whatever mankind makes.
I usually steer clear of politics, but these words refused to go anywhere else. I did use all of them.

Image is a bonfire photo put through the kaleidoscope. It has always reminded me of an ancient idol, perhaps a false one?



Posted in Would Be King | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Creative Healing

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #255

whirring, smirk, churn, splatter, chat, tin,
trim, lemon, scar, left, chisel, dig

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #63 

flashes, moments, uneasy, recall, week, writing,
altered, distorted, three, sister, years, came

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #306


Creative Healing

Some weeks my writing is no more than
a whirring churn of uneasy recall, distorted
moments left splattered on the page, only
flashes trimmed down to suit my purpose.

Then there are times when I must chisel so
deep, it feels like it will take three years to get
back up to the surface with only an altered
lemon, left to show for all that digging.

Sister comes and we chat, but I know she’d
rather I left the lid on that tin of scarred
memories. Yet, would never smirk at my
need for this creative means of healing.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/12/16

Notes: It was a big surprise to find that one of the word lists had come from a piece I had written. My first thought was that it would be impossible to write something with them. At least, something fresh and different. Yet, the word writing seemed to jump out at me, so I followed it. I truly believe that our creative urges, and endeavors, are a door that opens to our built in healing agent. And find it very sad when I hear someone say, “I don’t have a creative bone in my body.” I believe we all do have that source, but some won’t take the time to find it. Perhaps too busy living a life that could be altered and changed in so many unknown ways.

I did use all of the words. The image is a pen and ink line weave drawing and it always makes me think of the abundance to be found in any and all creative efforts.

Posted in Creative Healing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Rear View Mirror

Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #62

glances, hazel, cheek, pouts, small, spirit,
limp, months, letting, softens, tight, scar

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #254

food, cover, lost, howling, rear, draw,
move, break, less, split, maps, still

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #305


Rear View Mirror

When spirit glances into past, might
go limp from all that has been lost.
Hazel eyes might want to draw cover
over scars that make lips pout for months.
But howling rage will only break the
spirit even more.

They say that time will heal, soften wounds,
still, or lessen the hurt, but who knows how
long that movement of minutes might take?

We could learn to see the scars as maps
that mark passages through life, tight places
we have faced, and lived. Letting them become
small flags of honor, bits of food that nurture
our story, splitting us free from the ordinary
and normal. Allowing us our own distinct brand

of individual uniqueness.

Elizabeth Crawford  6/5/16

Notes: At first the words just stayed on the page, refused to engage in any movement. Decided to go with spirit, and the rest of the words seem to agree. I used all of them except cheek.

Image is a digital painting someone sent to me. I’ve always liked it. It makes me think of star mapping, finding the image by connecting the dots.

Posted in Rear View Mirror | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Three For The Show

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #253

tawny, diverse, lucid, chill, mist, creep,
vine, tassel, trap, plaster, crack, mad

The Sunday Whirligig: Wordle #61

apostle, gloss, buzz, hug, pies, blessing,
pact, push, price, hard, care, broken

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #304


Three For The Show


Amidst the tawny tassels of sun-glossed
wheat, the cracked-plaster scarecrow
appeared to be an apostle blessing his
diverse flock of needy, broken followers.


In the chill mist of early morning, buzzing
black bugs crept through hugging vines,
pushing the price of bottled wine to a mad,
hard, unreachable high.


Caring could be a trap, a pact of knotted
ties, lucid seeming lies, like the mud pies
we made as children, products of imagination
never meant to be healthy nurture.

Elizabeth Crawford   5/29/16

Notes: Time to admit defeat. For a year now, I have been doing one poem from the two word lists. This week, no matter how I tried, I simply couldn’t find the poem. The words seemed to want to set off in quite differing directions. I finally admitted that if I wanted to post this week, it would have to be these three pieces which have nothing to do with one another. Yet, each one contains something I like. For now, that’s more than good enough.

Posted in Three For The Show | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments