The Secret

The Secret

If I tell you it will
no longer be what
it was meant to be.

Beautiful satin ribbon
will come undone,
ragged at its edges.

Cover of box will no
longer cover and all
of the shiny surprises
inside will be loosed.

No more home, forced
to roam in search of some
dark shadowy corner.

Only knowing it is best
to remain hidden, unseen
unknown to any other.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/25/2018

Note: Image is a photo put through the kaleidoscope app.

Poem is posted at Waiting On Words: Word for Day 25 is secret


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The word itself
seems to suggest
motion, movement.

But have to wonder
if that’s real or merely

We each sit at this
machine, and with
just a few clicks

can reach out across
the globe and make

But, do we do that?
Too impatient to share
a few words, we’d rather

hit a like button, than
actually think to say
something of meaning.

Yes, the modem allows
us to reach beyond
our own little space

but also, somehow
isolates us.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/24/2018

Notes: Was, at first, confused about the word modem, but I just finished reading a Dean Koontz novel “Midnight”, in which a medical procedure left people with one of two choices. To regress to some state of animal existence, without thought, only hunger and sex, or to reach in and become one with their computers. Either way, becoming far less than human. The book made me uncomfortable for so many reasons.

Image is a line weave doodle, that simply started as a group of entwined empty circles. It often reminds me of another word: humanity.

Poem is posted at Waiting On Words 24: word for today is Modem

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Discovering Gold

Discovering Gold

Hear many complain
about lack of gold
in these ‘golden’ years.
Did it myself for a bit
of time, until I found
vein of precious metal
running through my days.

Very real nuggets of that
priceless commodity called
Freedom, hidden in often
dank, dark cave of living.
No longer buried in shadows
of what others might think
or say, I choose now
to go my own way.

No longer prodded and poked
by obligation, I say, “Thank you,
but no.” Then go where
I want, when I want, and speak
of my thoughts, feelings,
as I choose. Am often amused
by how much I really enjoy that.

Others speak of what has been
lost, agility of youth, unaware
of how little the cost to choose
real pay dirt in getting old.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/23/2018

Image is a photo-kalie: photo of yellow-gold leaves floating in river, then put through the kaleidoscope app.

Poem is posted at Waiting on Words: Word for day 23 is freedom

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One Question

One Question

Do you disturb, interrupt,
unsettle, interfere, hinder,
disarrange, perplex,
or trouble the silence
in the world around

Perhaps you should.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/22/2018

Notes: The word disturb used to mean all kinds of things to me, and not pleasant ones. Now, it only reminds me of the group that performs a new version of a long-time favorite of mine, and really like the gravelly voiced tension it brings to these words that make all kinds of sense in today’s world. Silence used to frighten me, until I learned it wasn’t the lack of sound that scared me, but rather the emptiness it implied. So, I set about filling that emptiness. First with words, then colors, and images. Have found that silence can be one of life’s best companions.

The poem is simply a list of synonyms for the word disturb. I really like where they took me. Image is a photo taken of an incoming storm.

Poem is posted at Waiting On Words: Word for day 22 is Disturb

And here is the video of that long-time, now new rendition:



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A Thought

Manipulated Digital Painting
Elizabeth Crawford

A Thought

Sometimes wish
that the word Sunday
was just what it says:
A day filled with sunshine,
beautiful blue skies,
with fluffy white clouds
drifting through them.

But, must remember
that rain, wind, and even
snow have a purpose
in seeing that life
continues (perhaps
with sore back and aching

Sunday is considered
the first day of the week
yet, when we were taught
the names of each day
Monday came first,
and Sunday was set aside
for rest and spiritual

Must wonder if we can
ever really know
the true meaning of all
these words we so easily
use, without fully understanding.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/21/2018

Note: Image is a kaleidoscope made from another digital painting.

Poem posted at Waiting On Words: Word for day 21 is Sunday.

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Life Without Logic

Life Without Logic

Am a North Wisconsin Hillbilly
who writes poetry. Is that even
reasonable, let alone logical?

Grew up in a big/little town
where Sunday’s second service
was football, family, screaming
at the television as if players
whose names you knew, like
next door neighbors, could
hear instructions in how to do
what they already did best.

Saturdays were getting up
before dawn to go fishing
with Dad. Reeling in perch,
heavy on the line, from cold
Bay bottom. Heading home
in time for supper where we
told stories of the one that
got away, or those that didn’t.

The rest of the week was
Parochial School, dresses,
black leather buckled shoes,
and busy work that never
ended. Countless rules
told out by nuns in black
and white habits about how
girls should be, but seldom were.

Then marriage, children, moving
away to a seemingly distant city
and a life interrupted by anger,
violence, and isolation. The sin
of divorce and slow, slow dance
toward a Hermit’s existence.

A North Wisconsin Hillbilly Hermit
who really loves words and certain
music, she alone can hear. Talks to
dragons, and a Tiger named Pain.
Colors outside the lines, while
dancing with pen and ink doodles.
No, it isn’t logical, nor reasonable,
but can swear it is all real.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/20/2018

Notes: Really felt stumped by today’s word, almost deciding to just skip it. Then started thinking about how life can be, and often seems lacking in logic or reason. My own is a good example.

Image is a pen and ink line weaving doodle.

Poem is posted at Waiting On Words: word for day 20 is logical.

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What is Splendid?

What is Splendid?

Ear hears the word
imagination rushes
to make a path
toward memory:

Two eagles wing waltzing
in life-bond dance of renewal.
Trees crowding curve
of back country road
where black bear cub sits
trying to capture
dappled rays of sunlight.

Bright red cardinal responding
to call of pursed lips,
while high above, ten snow
white pelicans fly in black hemmed
winging formation.

Frothy clouds throwing shawl
around indigo-blue mountains,
or black wolf moving slowly
in mountain meadow, stopping
only to look back and up,
letting me know, she knows
of my presence.

Howling wind of April blizzard,
or soft rhythmic lapping
at shoreline inviting sleep.

All of these, and so much more.
Gifts of Mother Nature
freely given to any who would
look and listen.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/19/2018

Notes: Could have gone on and on, but decided to take pity on my readers.

Image is a digital painting that started out just playing with colors, but then morphed into a favorite scene from memory.

Poem is posted at Waiting On Words: Word for Day 19  Splendid

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