After The Accident

For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #249
http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com

grace, join, yearning, silken, any, fire,
eggs, moment, skin, cell, light, boundless

For Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #57
http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/

menace, father, black, childhood, blocking, light,
speak, throwing, window, plain, dazzling, after

Poets United: Poetry Pantry #300
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

burning bush final

After The Accident

Pain is the shell that encompasses
your understanding…

__The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

Although father seemed a menace
to my childhood, reversing black
Pontiac down driveway while
mother watched from window,
resultant scar became a silken grace
joining far more than skin and skull together.

Became boundless fire throwing light
on deepest yearnings to comprehend.
Constantly egging on any and all
questions that would unblock cells
of understanding. Speaking its dazzling
truth in plain light of ordinary
everyday moments.

Elizabeth Crawford  5/1/16

Process Notes: I’ve written of this incident before, but these words seemed to go back and want another look. The quote is a favorite of mine. Found in the book mentioned above, given to me many, many years ago. Much later, as a middle-aged college student, I found a sculpture hanging in one of the main corridors on campus. It was gleaming white and seemed to be a round object, like an egg, cracked open with a liquid flow of glistening bubbles pouring out of it. And suddenly I knew that my experience at age four, might not have been an accident, but perhaps Divine Intervention, putting all the pieces together, letting me know I was on the right path, doing the right thing. That all of my seeking for understanding was not a quirk, but a purpose. Yes, all of the words.

Image is a digital painting done several years ago.

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“when she bedded her zinnias”

For NaPoWriMo: Day 30 – Final Poem
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com/

Stepping Stones Photograph by Elizabeth Crawford

Stepping Stones
Photograph
by
Elizabeth Crawford

…when she bedded her zinnias…

Stood off to one side
clapping hands
as she rooted memory
in rich moist soil
of fertile mind.

Tapping roots of that
other garden meant
to trap, to cage seeds
of soul in darkened soil
of hard cold rage.

Instead, nurtured words
until they were rooted,
setting me free to bring
them to fruition, marking
stepping stones in present moments.

Learned just enough
to know, I know nothing
of bedded zinnias.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/30/16

Process Notes: Title is a line (per prompt) from Brenda’s poem titled Broken Water. Which may be found here: https://undercaws.com/2016/04/28/broken-water/

When I wrote up the prompt, I had something entirely different in mind, but realized, even as I wrote it that I wanted a line from Brenda’s poem because it marked a realization in my own writing process. It struck a very deep cord in me. Had me remembering that long ago garden, essentially created to keep me busy, to control both my time and activities. It didn’t have the desired effect. Brenda had taken a very distressed moment and turned it into creative healing. For me, that is the most important aspect of any creative endeavor. While I tilled, weeded, harvested, canned and froze all the produce from that other garden, I had no choices about what went into that larger every year containment. But, while my hands were busy, my mind was free to create stories, poems, things I wanted to write. And that word garden allowed me to finally walk away from the trap being built around me. I firmly believe that we writers create ourselves, and our own path, one word at a time. This past month of writing a poem a day once again made me realize that belief. I can only thank Brenda for being one more of the stepping stones in my ongoing path. I think I might have just ‘bedded’ my zinnias. Pray they take root.

Personal Musical Inspiration:

 

 

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Inside The Dragon’s Lair

For NaPoWriMo: Day 29
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com/

friends, time, mistakes, fighting, through, end

dragons lair3

Inside The Dragon’s Lair

It iz almozt done,
little one?

Yup, tomorrow is the last
day.

How do you feel
about zat?

Tired, a bit sad that it’s
going to end, but also
glad that I did it.

You zertainly did,
but not zure why
you did it. It iz  zzoo
much hazzle, doing
both thingz, but you
knew that at the ztart.

Yes, that’s true, but this
time was different. I needed
to reclaim myself.

Reclaim? Not zure I
really underztand that.

With everything that was
going on, I’d gotten to feeling
a bit lost, at odds with myself,
my purpose, my being…
Needed to reestablish the things
that are most important to me,
prove to myself that I could still
do it…still be me.

And did you do zat? 

Yes, I did. I’m still a writer,
a somewhat good one. I’m
still a teacher, maybe a little
rusty, but it’s still there, still
available. And most important,
I am still learning
by being creative.

Zssounds like you were
fighting with yourzelf.

Didn’t realize that I was, but
getting through all of this
sure settled a few things.

Like what?

Getting old doesn’t mean
becoming useless. I still
have something to offer.
Can still make new friends, and
can still make mistakes
and learn from them.

Ahh, yessz, little one,
you are ztill, human.
Age doezz not change
that. Will you reward
yourzelf for thiz reclaiming? 

That depends on you.

How zzooo? 

It’s been a while
since I have ridden
dragon back. I was thinking
maybe a day trip?

You know, all you have
to do is asszk. It would
be my pleazzure.

dragonimages.net

dragonimages.net

Elizabeth Crawford  4/29/16

Notes: First image is a digital painting I did while playing with colors. Purely an accident. Second image is from the internet.

Musical Inspiration:

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Different Lives

For NaPoWriMo: Day 28
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com/

ride, lost, tide, broke, water, still, divide, drop, remain

Jpeg

Different Lives

A child lost in childish things, picking up
language of music and words.
Rebellious teenager learning how to lie.
Young adult thinking marriage would be
easier than a day job in a factory.
Wife, then mother of four still thinking
there had to be an easier way.
An abuse victim learning broken.
Divorced, single parent, swimming
alone through waters of change.
Middle-aged college student wonder-lost
in finding how to become.
Part-time advocate in a Women’s Shelter,
dropping words on paper, calling it therapy, while
crossing the divide between dream and responsibility.
Managing a bookstore still shaping that dream,
while becoming a grandparent.
College instructor trying to turn tide of self-ignorance.
Published writer of poetry and prose, playing
with colors, finding meaning in differing hues.
Side-lined on disability, trying to remain
young at heart while getting so much older.

Looking back on all these different lives lived
one moment at a time, choices made both
good and bad, still dancing to music only
I can hear, awash in lines and colors I create,
can see I have become the woman
only I could be: a purple tree bent
in a celadon breeze.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/28/16

Process Notes: This was not at all what I intended when I wrote up the prompt. Tried to follow the words but they were going off in a completely different direction. Got up this morning and started listing the different roles and lives I have lived. Not what I consider very poetic, but all true and only hit the high notes. And not meant as a list of accomplishments, but rather the places and things I fumbled and stumbled my way into.

Image is not one of mine. Friend called and said she had started painting and was working on a series of trees. Asked her to paint one for me. She sent the image to me two days later.
Celadon is warm green mixed with a cool shade of blue. Purple is the color of personal power. Green symbolizes growth and growing, while blue is the hue of knowledge and wisdom. White may symbolize innocence or ignorance, and in some cultures represents death. Don’t know if she knows the symbolism, but I think the image is perfect.

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Another Dream

For NaPoWriMow: Day 27
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com

fireflies, lit, sleep, door, turns, fall

dscn4039a4-2

Another Dream

Left my door open just a crack,
then turned over and fell asleep.
Watched fireflies flit and flutter
against the ceiling, then fly
in kaleidoscopic formations,
dazzling my eyes as I tried
to follow their machinations.

I’d like to make myself believe,
they came with a message lit up
just for me. Of a world healed
and whole with peace and love
enduring. Insuring that life will
always be. But, even I know that
dreams are never all they seem.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/27/16

Notes: Prompt was to use the six words taken from Fireflies by Owl City, and/or a line or lines from the song to build a poem. The lines I chose are italicized.

Image is a photo of a bonfire, put through the kaleidoscope app.

Musical Inspiration:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytBR7ET_6uU&list=RDytBR7ET_6uU

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Soul-Mates

For NaPoWriMo: Day 26
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com

music, defenses, sensation, tender, truth, imagination, night, listen,

Scan_20151230posa

Soul-Mates

You want the truth?
I think color and music
share the same soul.

Both been around forever,
can be both tough
and tender.

Seep into senses, fire
imagination, easily
overpower defenses,

to calm an agitated heart
in middle of a dark
and lonely night.

One for an ear to listen,
the other for the eyes
to see. Together

might even bring wholeness
to a soul that has never
known it.

How do I know this?
Because both music
and color have come

to life, to dance, inside of me.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/26/16

Process Notes: Since the first of the month, I have set up prompts for NaPo, using words, visuals, and music. I set up the prompt the night before. Some of them have worked well, others maybe not so well. Last night, I used Music of The Night from Phantom of The Opera. A song that has haunted me for years for all kinds of reasons. And as is my custom, just forgot the prompt busying myself with the usual end of the day contortions. Went to bed thinking, I don’t have a clue what the hell I’m going to write to this prompt. Slept. Less than half awake this morning, I could see my fingers trying to type up something for this morning, then promptly erase and start over again. Couldn’t quite remember the words I had chosen from the song. Knew they included the words music, night, and tender, but couldn’t quite make them work together. Then the epiphany. Color is a sort of music and music creates color in the imagination. Now wide awake, I came directly to my desk and wrote the poem in less than ten minutes. It took far longer to choose the image to go with it, lol. The image is a template I made from a pen and ink doodle, then put through the kaleidoscope app. It was colored with colored pencils and then finished (this morning, I might add), with a digital background . Realization takes a lot of time, especially when hearing is beginning to dim and eyes are fogged over with sleep. But thank heaven for dreams.

Musical Inspiration:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd_4pirCKxE

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Hello Goodbye

For NaPoWriMo: Day 25
http://1sojournal.wordpress.com

Greyhound-Bus

Hello, Goodbye

Hey Brother stop
trying to Wake Me Up.

I know you are one
of those Rainy Day People,

Livin’ On A Prayer, trying
to find that Stairway

To Heaven. But don’t Lean
On Me so heavily.

I’m just a tired Blackbird, flying
down this Carefree Highway,

hoping to make Margaritaville
and let my good friend Jose Quarvo

quench this burning Ring of Fire
that is constantly driving me.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/25/16

Notes: The prompt was to use one or more of a list of song titles to create a title, and/or poem. Here the titles are italicized and being the compulsive I am, I had to find a way to use all of them. It’s day 25 of this madness. What can I say?

Image is a photo from the internet.

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