Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky. Tagore

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

My Poetry-Like Writings of Way Back When



 Searching

In the age of the new
We search for the old
Up mountains high
To gurus low

We Channel, We Chant
We Breath, We Pant
We Sweat, We Smudge
We Consume
Pond Sludge

We read the books that
Promise us riches
We retreat to the forest
To relieve our itches

We Empower, We Enchant
We Anoint, 
We Decant The Wine
That will Open our Mind

We Diet, We Cycle, 
We Walk
We Run
Searching for Answers
That don’t seem to come

Then we start again
Reading the books
Where someone tells us
All answers are within

Oh good, so no more
Dieting, cycling, walking or running?

I’m completing this poem
15 years after it was begun
And I’ve learned that while
The answers may be within
You must first
Love yourself
To access them

Liz 1996 and 2011

Letter Writing
The lost Art

Fax, E-Mail and telephone
Have taken the place
Of pen and paper
And I feel all alone
In wishing that
Letter writing could go
On and on

When I was a kid
Way back when
We wrote to grandmas
And aunts and cousins
And friends

We wrote to Gene Autry
And Hop-a-Long, too
And to our great thrill
They wrote us back; woo woo

My nieces still drop a note
Now and then
Their greeting to me,
“Hi, Aunt Lib”
Oh dear, no Dear Aunt Lib?
The times must have been
More gentle back when 
for letters to have included
so many 'dears' in them.

But like T-Rex
And predictable weather
I guess letter writing
Has been assigned to
The land of Never-Never.

Liz 1997

Reading this 14 years later
I laugh about
Fax and email
Now it’s Texting,
Facebook, Google+
And Twitter
And I’m still stuck
Wanting a letter.
Liz 2011

Mid-Life

Mid-life can be long and scary
The time that came 
way too soon

It’s heart burn and burn out
It’s weight and waiting
Divorce and dauntless
Confusion and consolation
It’s trauma and triumph

This must be my mother’s life
How can mine already include
Brittle bones and yet, bikini’s?
Creams and crumbling
Fiber and freedom

It’s that time between…
Neither young nor old
Its joint aches, yes and then
Wild abandon
It’s coming to terms with
Promises unmet
Figures unkempt
Nest now empty
Elderly parents and their death
My own mortality to be met

But in spite of the long and scary ride
It’s not all lost hormones and pride
It's just another chapter
in the book of my life

Liz 1997



ADDICTION

Sneaks up on you
And whispers,
“just a little won’t hurt
You’ll feel so much better
You deserve to feel good
Things have been so rough on you”

And – so you do
Just a little, that is
And, for a little while
You do feel better

But soon you don’t
Feel so good…that is
Matter-of-fact
Maybe it would feel good
Not to feel at all

So you drown in booze or horses or slots
or drugs or sex or shopping
or work or tobacco
or all

And down you go

And

D
O
W
N

You go

And

D
O
W
N

YOU ARE

Straight into the arms of the demon


 
Secrets

We met on Thursday at the local bar
The night you got lucky or spent the weekend alone

I was new to the scene
23, recently from home
He was 38, a man of the world,
Out for night, all alone

When I arrived, the bar was crowded
He give me his bar stool, he bought me a drink
He gave me his card
I went home to dream

The very next day
He gave me a call
We went to a movie
Had something to eat
I asked him first date questions
His answers..vague, if at all

He took me home, said
“maybe sometime we’ll go dancing”
I didn’t dance, but it didn’t matter,
He didn’t call
So that’s the end

Oh no
I couldn’t get him off my mind
I sent him a note
“what do you recommend for Spring fever?”
He replied
“distemper shots”
He took me to dinner
He took me to bed
Two years later 
his answers still vague
We got married 
to his surprise

Twenty-three years of marriage
Two children
Ulcers
Chronic Depression

I asked him to leave
He did 
his secrets intact

Liz
1997

RETREAT

Can I do what the poets do
In little lines of verse?

Can I describe to you
An early morning amidst
The Oaks?

The silence broken now and then
By the woodpecker pounding on a dead tree?
A rustle in the bushes
A family of deer with still spotted fawns?

Can you feel the beginning of
another
Hot, hot day – still tolerable at 6:00 a.m.
But just barely?

Can you smell the remnants of a wild fire
That came too close by?

Can I describe it to you in such a way that you would know
Why I feel such peace in this place?

Can you understand the solitude?
Nothing other than an occasional jet
Leaving a high trail as it flies East to
Dallas or Denver?

Can you understand that in that solitude
That quiet
I can listen…will listen to God?

Liz 1996


 
Help



Sometimes I live for hours or days or weeks

In a pit of darkness

Mired in despair

Finally I yell


GOD HELP ME

GOD HELP ME

GOD HELP ME



I extend my hand and cling

To The Divine

Who has always been there waiting for me

To come again into the Light



Job’s patience is rivaled only by God’s

How often have I hidden out of sight

Only to be welcomed

Back to the Light



Now God can speak to me

Not in booming voice

LIZ, LIZ



But rather in

The tomatoes

The flowers

The star thistle



I receive nourishment

In the beauty

And am lead through the sticky places



When the well pump comes on

I’m thankful 
for the water

That helps my plants to thrive

Just as the Living Water

Keeps my Soul alive



And in my solitude

Here on the farm

I can focus



Not on the weeds that still need pulled

Or the grapes that still need staked

Or the mortgage that still comes due



I focus on God

And I am called

To worship

To thanksgiving

To love

To service

To trust

To faith



And when I leave the solitude of this place

I am sustained

I am comforted

I am replenished



Liz 1996

DIVORCE
ACRIMONY
BROKEN PROMISES
CUSTODY
DEVASTATED DREAMS
FAILURE
FAITHLESSNESS
FINISHED
GONE
GRIEF
HEARTBREAK
INERTIA
LOST
LONELY
LEGALITIES
LAWYERS
MAD
MADDENING
NOTHINGNESS
NUTS
OVER
        Oh yeah
PAPERWORK
PALPITATIONS
QUIET
RAGING
STUBBORN
SAD
TALKING
TELLING
UNDONE
VENTING

RECOVERY
 IT COMES SLOWLY
AFTER THE LOSS AND PAIN
AFTER THE PAIN COMES FORGIVING
AFTER THE FORGIVING
FORGETTING
AFTER FORGETTING
REJOICING
BECAUSE YOU HAVE LOVED BEFORE
AND WILL ONCE MORE

 
Liz 1996