Words and Images
Nov 2nd, 2008 by Liz Bennefeld
an artist sketches
on the texture of the wind
pensive butterfly
I have started a photo blog at my Quiet Spaces site: http://quietspaces.net/blog/
November 30 – NaNoWriMo poem
Nov 30th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
“Waiting for Snow”
The old crescent moon
shrinks, hiding among branches
stripped by winter’s winds.
The Birthday Card
Nov 29th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
one more card to say
that mere words cannot express
the depths of his love
And to think that at one time I was convinced that marriage was not for me. Mine is the most wonderful husband in the world. Yes, really!
Autumn Promises
Nov 28th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
Filtered autumn light,
speak to me of summer, gone,
and winter yet to come.
Color my vision with golden glory
and fill my nostrils with the scent
of those last flowers
clinging to vines
close by the window.
Speak to me of time past
and time that’s yet to be,
tomorrow’s promises.
Thanksgiving
Nov 26th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
Ever changing, the faces
and the names of people
at the dinner table on
Thanksgiving Day.
New husbands, wives, and children,
and their own families of the heart,
find their way into the folds
of Great-grandma’s quilts
into our lives and homes.
Large quilts, warm
and welcoming…
Always room for more.
Poems Past
Nov 23rd, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
Going through my papers, here, I’ve once again come across a notebook with loose sheets of all sorts—poetry from the 60’s and 70’s that I’ve put aside for one reason or another. Some published, long ago, but mostly not. I’ve never been much for submitting poems or short stories. Only essays that were published on-line at Moondance and some in paper publications, and those were much later—within the past 20 years.
I put my name and address at the top of some of the typewritten sheets. An apartment dweller until my marriage in the 90s, the address helps in pinning down when a piece was written and what my circumstances might have been at the time. Some…most of the poems were written in my journal (lately called, thanks to The Artist’s Way, "Morning Pages"). When I came to the end of a journal, I saved the pages with poems and essays, and the makings for the same, and shredded the rest. A habit born of having known too much about the wrong things and the wrong people. Fortunately, my having a "roll-up" memory, none of that remains to burden me.
Anyway, I’ve chosen two of my poems to share in this post, both written on March 13, 1977.
Vision clouded, noise drifts in If I were sober, now, |
I do not live alone. |
My week, let me tell you it . . .
Nov 23rd, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
Much too much work, this week, and one mild and one severe fragrance/ chemical exposure. I am hopeful that I will catch up on the poems, but I am going to catch up on my sleep, first. Lulled to sleep by the sounds of surf and puppy dog snores.
Curiosity
Nov 20th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
Curious about
modern technology, Sam
seeks out a mentor
Hideaway
Nov 19th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
"Hideaway"
Up before the sun
and safely tucked away from
weekend’s hated chores.
Morning Dew
Nov 18th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
dewdrops, clinging tight
to leaves and fragrant flowers,
focus morning’s light
Sometimes
Nov 17th, 2009 by Liz Bennefeld
“Sometimes”
by
Liz Bennefeld
Sometimes, in the middle of life’s joys,
more than in sorrow,
a desperate yearning for a home I’ve never seen
sweeps over me, and the pain of being here,
not there, consumes me—a living fire.
Longing, waiting, seeing once again
where I have never been,
yet know so well.
And yet, so much of heaven is in this life,
the people that I know, the trees along the lane…
sunrise and starlight and moonlit paths that lead me
someday
from life to death to life,
back home, again.
###
A poem for Tuesday, 2009.11.17.