Butterfly Light

Posted for Poets United Mid-Week Motif: Light

Butterfly Light

Words are the light
that helps to define
whatever I find
in my silent darkness.

Like the eye of a storm,
brings comforting stillness
to surrounding chaos
and utter confusion.

Flickering candle of fluttering
brightness, like butterfly wings
that quickly banish, transform
whatever fear might prevent

forward movement.

Elizabeth Crawford 5/22/2019

Process Notes: Already knew the first line of what I would write when I came online. So looked for an image and found this old photo taken many years ago. I have a thing about ‘cloud action’. The second verse came directly from the photo. And then finally noticed, for the first time, the butterfly at the center of its light. Butterflies are a symbol of transformation and metamorphosis. 

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About Those Boulders

Posted for the Sunday Whirl: Wordle #403

Words: permit, siren, shoot, insight, live, tracks,
lights, blocks, style, clues, shift, alley




About Those Boulders

Have lived life by seeking its light
through insight and following tracks
left by others dropping clues as they move
through sometimes darkened alleys
where shadows shift, changing definitions
as they twist through meandering blocks
of how’s, when’s, and always why.

Have learned that only permission
needed is my own, while honing
ability to shoot straight, using words
whose siren song forever leads me
forward, through dense forest of trees,
running rivers, and dragon sized

Elizabeth Crawford 5/12/2019

Process Notes: As soon as I saw the word list, I could see how many of them would, or could fit together. It made that first stanza somewhat easy to create. The second stanza fought with me a bit. But once I decided to change “permit” to “permission” the rest fell in place. Image is a photo I took at a park a bit North of the city. It’s main attraction is a narrow ravine that is accessible by a wooden staircase that leads down into its interior. I did use all of the words in one form or another.

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Barefoot Reverie

Posted For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle # 402

window, charm, orphan, off, fly, sigh,
stifle, sense, city, sing, float, dust


Barefoot Reverie

Sometimes feel like an orphan.
Sighing on desire to fly off
out window, float away
from city dust that somehow
stifles sense of rightness found
only in forest, beside rippling
brook that sings its own charming
song of laughter, while dancing
bare-footed from one stone to another.

Elizabeth Crawford  5/5/2019

Process Notes: Image is a “happy accident”. Was doing a pen and ink sketch and spilled water on the page. Grabbed a paint brush and used the ink for a wash. Did use all of the words. And again, am reminded of how much I came to enjoy these wordle puzzles.

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Thirteen Ways of Looking At Memory

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Day 30

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Memory

Stone border wall keeping one
from entering dreamed of place
called Freedom.

Being constantly locked into
space of exhausting

Grains of sand
that linger long
after leaving the beach.

Becoming only an
irritant in need
of being brushed away.

An echo bouncing off
mountain of buried

Ghostly apparitions
come to shatter peace
of present moments.

Dark shadows that swallow
dreams of a distant
but different future.

A light switch
mounted on wall
of remembering.

Poem, like a star, dancing in darkness
waiting for someone to look up
to see.

Greening path of footprints
offering steps toward growth
and healing.

A chance to redo
what has already
been done.

More than fleeting probability
to smash bricks in stone wall
encasing Freedom

Opportunity to live, to breathe
inside wider place
of grace long promised.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/30/2019

Process Notes: This one has been slowly building itself for about two weeks, as I noticed that most of the poems I’ve written this month are about, or based in memory.  And during those daily writings, the phone rings at least once and I always wonder if it is the woman who calls me occasionally to share a Bible verse with me, seemingly forgetting that I told her the first time that I studied the Bible, long ago, taught adult Bible Study classes, and view it very differently than she does. I believe that the Artists, especially the writers of any generation share the same energy as the prophets of old.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes, in her book, “Women Who Run With the Wolves”, tells us that ‘nothing is ever lost from the human psyche’. Think about that for a moment. Our skin holds all that gives us life, and also each moment that we have lived. In this present moment we are the culmination of all of those moments. They hold both purpose and meaning. When we work to heal past moments of wounding, we are freeing our future moments for something better than what came before. Creating that wider place in which to exist.

The image is a photograph taken in my niece’s backyard, then put through the kaleidoscope app. It has long been one of my favorites because the boulders in the original photo, became stone birds flying in the four sacred directions. Creating that wider place in which to breathe, to live.

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On Being a Sister to Trees

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Day 29







                                      On Being a Sister to Trees

Long to sit, knees bent
beneath a tree
skin to bark,
listening as passing breezes
rustle overhead leaves.

Whispering bits of her story
of standing still,
always rooted in same place
yet more than willing to share, to learn
from passing strangers.

Birds, bees, insects, and squirrels,
sometimes a restless human like me,
willing to pass long moments
seeking to find what might be learned
from a tree.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/29/2019

Process Notes: Image is the first thing I tried to draw digitally using a brand new paint program. Thought it was time to bring it forward and let it breathe again. Many, many years ago, I defined myself as a Sister to Trees and a Maker of Stones. Used to make stones from polymer clay, carving words in them before putting them in oven to harden. Used them in my writing classes for starting points. The longing in that opening line is very real. My curved and shrinking spine, arthritic hips and knees, and swollen feet wouldn’t allow that luxury anymore. But there was a time when I sought it out and learned a great deal from the experience. That might have been the fresh oxygen trees provide to their surroundings, which I’d gladly partake of again.

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NaPoWriMo 2019 – Day 28


Two ships passing. Murmuring memories, whispers
of past lives adrift in waves of moving water.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/28/2019

Process Notes: Sherry wrote to an interesting prompt yesterday and it did two things. Made me think of this particular photo, I took at the huge bird sanctuary out near Bay Beach. And challenged the writer in me to attempt to do the same. The prompt was to use an image to create a two line painting very different from the presented picture, yet deepening the meaning of that original image. I took the photo because it emphasized the different proportions between the Pelican and the Canada Goose, not a small creature by any means. It always makes me think of a gleaming white yacht, pulling or passing a much smaller rowboat in its wake. That might have made a better painting, but the words sometimes have a whole different story they want or need to tell. And who am I to argue?

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Old But New

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Day 27

Old But New

At seemingly advanced age
it is more than a bit hopeful
to know one can still
be anchored in throes
of constantly discovering
what one is in process
of becoming.

Can feel feathers of truth
gathered over time
slide in place like silken
gloves eager to find
more of their kind
to easily carry life further
than it has ever been.

And rich moist soil of a mind
reaching for light that means living,
one moment at a time.
More than willing to expand,
yet stands firm in owned beliefs,
while still eager to accept nurture
found in apples offered
by laughing dragons, and sometimes
even strangers.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/27/2019

Process Notes: Am beginning to feel the drain of writing a poem a day. As has become my present process, I went to my media file to find an image. However, the only one that even pulled at my attention was this one.

I had already been coloring for a while, using Mandalas for that activity, when a friend sent me a pack of new pens and a set of very different coloring images, created by a man sitting with his child through a long hospital stay and making something that might hold his child’s attention. This image strongly attracted me and I tried to use as many of my new coloring pens as possible. I titled it “Self-Portrait”, because it brought up so many memories from my childhood, and not necessarily good ones.

I wanted to make something else from it today. A different self-portrait that has to do with me now. And almost gave up at the very idea. But, Heth stepped in and said, “Little one, look at it with that other eye you szpoke of not long ago. Szee it sztanding alone, new and different.” Then moved away barely able to hide her smirking grin. And the words started coming. Slowly, but with some knowing of where they were going.

One can only be grateful for one’s dragon, even when she delights in feeding you your own words. https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2019/04/15/half-way/

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