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
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

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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
you?

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
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

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

 

 

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A Thought

Harmony
Manipulated Digital Painting
by
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
muscles).

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
reflection.

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.
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

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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.
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

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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
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

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Snippet

Marananthaheth?

“Yez, little one…”

Do Dragons dance?

“Ummm, why yezz we do.
When we fly.
We flip, we frolic,
how do you zzay?
We loopdaloop.
Iz that not danzing?”

Yes, I guess so…
But do you hear
music, when you do
that?

“Muzzic? Umm,
do you mean
like when you zzing
a szertain zong,
and move your body
to the rhythmz
of the wordsz?”

Yes, like that…

“Little one, the Univerze
is filled with muzic.
Every planet, each sztar,
zings a different
szong. And, we dragonz
hear them all.
Do you know
that the treez,
here on your world
zing, each one, a different
zong, and how do you szay?
Harmonizze?”

Really? How I wish
I had the ears
of a dragon.

She leans down with a smile
and says, “We all have been
given giftz and limitationz.
Each szervez a purpoze.
But, know with
a szertainty, that you
have the ear
of thizz dragon.”

Elizabeth Crawford  4/18/2018

Note: You had to know that eventually, I’d use this word. Image is a digital painting, titled Dragon’s Lair.

Posted at Waiting On Words: Word for day 18 is Dragon
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com

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On Tree of Life

On Tree of Life

Watch myself climb
carefully onto branch
of long-ago other life.
Shaky splayed hands
wrapped around cracked
bark, which still holds
clear sparks of memory.

See her there, woman
I was, curled tightly
on living room sofa.
Afraid to open eyes
see darkness creeping
down to surround her.
Feel hiss of its mist
as it leaned to kiss
her quaking flesh.

Knew in that solitary
moment, no matter
sacred oath, or whatever
fear might hold her,
it was time to leave.

Elizabeth Crawford  4/17/2018

Note: Image is one of my first attempts at digital drawing.

Poem is posted at Waiting on Words: Word for day 17 is branches
https://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com

 

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