In the early morning mist
a wisp of dream appears
with only the faintest wish
to imprint itself on the still
sleeping dreamer.
Elizabeth Crawford 6/3/2021
Note: Image is one of my designs, created years ago, but only colored recently. When I was finished, it began to whisper these words, which I tried to ignore, but couldn’t.
Dreaming of that day
When the world slows its spinning
Long enough to see
Own incredible beauty
All human souls rejoicing.
Elizabeth Crawford 5/29/2021
Notes: Got a notice that KT had put up a new poem. Went to see. It was a Tanka and she explained it’s origins and structure. Had to try it. “(Note: A tanka is a form of Japanese poetry made up of 5 lines containing 31 syllables. The 1st line has 5 syllables; 2nd, 7 syllables; 3rd , 5 syllables; 4th , 7 syllables; 5th, 7syllables. It can have any theme.)”KT’s site may be found here:
https://ktworkmancom.wordpress.com/2021/05/29/tanka-1/
Image is one of my designs, made with the kaleidoscope app and colored by me.
Am looking for a poem,
a place to call home.
Where words fit feelings
and don’t send me reeling
away because they lack
any reality for this place
in which I live.
This place to which I’ve
given my soul in this
constant search for
wholeness. A world apart
from all others, yet holding
a heart that continues
to beat to its own peculiar
rhythms.
Giving what it can and
sometimes what it can not,
because that is what it learned
long ago, is essential
to living fully. Always seeking
those words which often
fly away like birds to another
place, much like me, seeking
that one face they might call
home.
Elizabeth Crawford 5/8/2021
Note: Written simply because I promised myself I wouldn’t stop after NAPO. Image is one of my designs, colored, and titled “Between Daylight and Dark”.
Here we stand together
on Lucille’s bridge, caught
between star-shine and clay.
This current quest ends today,
but tomorrow we continue.
Waters of life keep flowing
and we will go with them.
Through peace or turbulence
it makes no difference
because we have found that very thing
for which we have been seeking.
It has brought us, once again,
that simple joy and wonder to be found
in being one who breathes, and is
inspired.
Elizabeth Crawford
Note: Sherry gave me the word “bridge”, and I knew immediately that I would go back
to Lucille Clifton’s birthday poem. But then got sort of stalled with a hundred different
ways, or paths, I could take. Went searching through my files, here on line, skimming
through my past Napo journeys. Found the song and knew it was exactly what I
needed. And it was. Listened to it and knew right where I was going.
I haven’t written any poetry in the past year. Too busy finishing and editing my
almost 200 pages of “poetic memoir.” I was very hesitant to begin this year and
it shows in those first pieces I wrote. It is a most amazing, and humbling experience
to be a writer/poet seeking to hopefully find her own voice.
As this current journey
nears its completion,
am reminded of the runner
who must be trained
to quicken his pace
or risk loosing the race
completely.
The mind can be a funny
thing, often heeding a familiar
bell, rather than that one
which is needed.
When that runner sees what is called
“Home”, his mind will tell him that
it is time to slow down, the race
is “finished”, when it really isn’t.
So he must be trained to quash that
primal urge, and reach for another
spurt of energy that will take him
over and beyond that so-called
“finished” line.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/29/2021
Notes: Image is another of my designs, colored and liked by others. But, I have
always known that it could be improved with a few changes. Changes I have
failed to create because of those other opinions. Just like that runner, I’ve fallen
to “good enough” rather than my best. This yearly Journey has shown me something
very important. I need to get back to writing poetry. the kind that I am good at.
Is it wicked
of me to believe
that I have been found worthy
because I have received
a bit of wisdom?
Elizabeth Crawford 4/28/2021
Note: Image is a newly created design which I colored. There is a story behind
the words for today. My partner in crime, Sherry, gave me three words instead
of the usual one. I really like playing with words, and the first thing that popped
into my head was the question you see. So it became my post. The easiest one
in this seemingly endless month of April.
After a soft bit of laughter, “Well, that answer would be both yes, and no. It’s
a lot of work and time, and no one gets paid a salary for doing this. It is done
by anyone who loves poetry and the writing of it. And seeing as I have been
doing just that for well over half of my life, I am one of those people. And, by
the way, there are definitely others who would adamantly say I must be a bit
crazy for writing it at all.”
Again, I do not underztand. You do it well, and have even been given, how to zssay,
awards for your ability. Why would anyone think that might mean you are mentally
unbalanszed for doing this thing you are good at?
After a bit more laughter, “Because there are people who perhaps think that poetry
is a foreign language? Don’t begin to understand it or even the reasons why someone,
like me, would be involved with it at all. They don’t find any personal value in such
things, and rather than try to understand, they assign a negative value to it, and
simply walk away. And that might be one of the biggest and best reasons
I do this crazy thing every year.”
How szo?
“For a thousand different reasons. Poetry, when I started, seemed to bring me to life. Gave
me a voice, that others could hear and possibly grow from that experience. Believe it,
or not, I used to be one of those people who thought that poetry was a closed-up
cloister, to which I could and never would find admittance. But once I was offered that
key, and entered that closed door, I found a solid rock on which to build the rest
of my existence. So, if my words, simple as they are, might awaken another
to other possibilities, I will continue to do it, for as long as I am able.”
Oh, Little One, that attitude iz the very reaszon why we dragonz have named you,
Dragon Woman.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/27/2021
Note: Image is a free coloring page, I found, years ago, on the Internet. It didn’t specify who the Artist might be, so I don’t have that information to offer. It was done in simple black and white. Months ago, when I decided to haul out my coloring pens and get into that activity again, this image came up, and I decided it would be the best place for me to
begin. Heth is the dragon who occupies my rather active imagination. She is bright red,
and in any small light, her scales flash a golden sparkle. Her given name is
Marananthaheth, but I call her Heth, because she told me that single breathed
out syllable means all things dragon.
The dragons were an outgrowth of the Personal Mythology I created in my late thirties. The beginnings of that particular adventure may be found on my prose site: https://1sojournal.wordpress.com/2008/12/13/a-tiger-named-pain/
And if you are at all interested in the subject of “Dragons”, you can simply type the word
Dragons into the search engine listed above, as well as the one on my prose site. I’ve done a bit of writing on the subject matter.
The raven you see, came to visit me
last evening. Wanted to speak
of magic and how tragic it is
that people no longer believe
that it is real and does still happen.
Then spent some time, helping me
find these rhyming words that you
are reading. Seemed to know just
how much I needed them.
And when we finished, he raised
his wings, and was gathered back
into the very night that brought him
and the now fulfilled wish of an old
and somewhat tired poet.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/26/2021
Notes: True story. I have a partner in crime for this difficult journey of writing a poem a day for the National Poetry month of April. Her name is Sherry Marr and her poems can be found at her blog site: Stardreaming with Sherry Bluesky. This year we are simply giving one another one word a day to be used for that day’s subject matter. It is based in an exercise I gave her when she was feeling blocked and unable to write. When Sherry gave me the word Raven for today’s poem, I immediately felt that squirming feeling inside. Ravens, in many, if not most, cultures around the world, are considered to be a symbol of magic. Hard topic to write about in a world that has many doubts about science and what it has to say about our current situation.
Long story, shortened, as I was getting away from my computer to go do some more
coloring,thinking how I didn’t have an image for next morning’s post, I got an
advertisement from an Art Supply company, ARTEZA, some of whose supplies I have purchased and used. So had a look. At the end of the message was a gift of a coloring page. So I
downloaded it, simply curious. It is the image that opens this post. I was so happy to see it,
and immediately started coloring it, hoping it could and would be used for that purpose. That might be as close to “magic” as you can get. And while I colored it, the “raven” helped me find the words I needed. I have had other encounters with ravens and one of them is posted at my prose site: https://1sojournal.wordpress.com/2015/02/28/following-the-signs-and-symbols-2/.
Another old word, seldom used in today’s world.
It means to be constant. showing up, to be in a place,
occupying a space, even when you might
not want to be there.
Each day, I come and write these words,
though few, if any read them. Makes no difference
what might be said,
this is the part I chose to play, and will continue,
because this is the part that keeps this old heart
beating.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/25/2021
Note: Image is a new template I made yesterday, even though I now have enough to color
for perhaps two or three lifetimes. I enjoy the process and am always surprised by the seeming magic which brings them about. A small inner jolt that happens when they begin to speak, telling me which colors they would prefer to become.
How often do you sit and wonder about all this wandering
we are asked to do? Pondering about its purpose, wondering
if it is necessary or even needed.
But the word wonder holds another meaning. That single moment
when the light turns on and we suddenly know what we didn’t know
before all that wandering began.
Standing still in a world that is forever whirling is never easy. Might
even bring a queasy feeling in the moment. But that moment
of stillness may bring on that one of wonder,
When we finally see, just how far we have come. And know with
certainty, that this is what we were always meant
to be.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/24/2021
Note: Image is a photograph I took of a bonfire in my sister’s backyard. When I put it through the kaleidoscope app, I was really surprised to find this image. It looked like an ancient god, proclaiming a message. Today, as I was searching for an image for this post, I came across it and saw that moment of wonder and realization, that can feel like a warm fire within the brain.
