Liz's Letters

I love trying L.L. Barkat's poetry prompts. Sometimes I read them, think about them and nothing comes to mind. Then, every so often I am brave enough to try one. This one caught my attention because of the title, "How to Write a Poem" - and I thought... "that's just what I need, instruction!" Here is what she says, "But we have to begin somewhere. Nobody wakes up and becomes Keats or Yeats, or the bard of Beowulf, in a day. Begin with a single sentence, or a phrase. Use a memory or something you see. Maybe pick up a few cool words from someone else's poems and play with them like a kid with a mudpie. Don't worry about what you're going to end up with." I was at lunch when I read her poetry prompt, so, sitting at my desk, I scribbled on a note pad the first thing I saw...scattered paperwork, and ended up with a poem about retirement. Ha ha! Here it is: Daydreaming Pages scattered mind the same jailed, restrained. Sore from pushing again...

Tranquil My heart experiments Yearning for more Knowing only He can provide Trusting I fear sometimes Pain is searing He is faithful to protect Tomorrow What is there? My eyes strain to see But I close them and look to Him Today Full of love Soaking it all up Grateful that He gives so much

Every few weeks we loaded the car two hours it took never seeming too far but taking too long The sun was ahead the mornings we left my heart would fill up expectant and eager love was ahead Half way was marked easy by bridge made of glass the sky became bigger the closer we got to Highway 60 Houses were spaced I knew we were close in the distance I spotted my Grandparent's house inviting body and soul Tires crunch on the gravel the car comes to a stop the garden awaits directly in front He meets us as always all wrinkled and tall his eyes always sparkled Inside to the kitchen where lunch was prepared fresh bread soft and squishy bologna and chips on Highway 60 The garden was bigger than I'd ever seen with tomatoes, potatoes, peas and green beans the birds sang more loudly than they did at home the porch was my playhouse the couch was my throne my own little world feeling safe and warm along Highway 60 I loved playing there until it was time to load back in the car make the tri...

Feeling so sad my dog is ill his teeth are hurtin' he won't take his pill We waited a time then returned to the vet so he's having surgery a quite risky bet His body is old his kidneys are weak the whole family's nervous we feel rather bleak We hope Rusty's strong and fights a good fight so he can come home after staying one night. Get well, Rusty!! ** UPDATE! Rusty is home and recouperating well! **

There was a time that I thought my life was as good as it got. That was about 10 years ago. Then a time came along that I thought my life was as bad as it got. That wasn't really that long ago. But it feels like a life time...WAIT! It is exactly that... MY life - time. And good or bad, it is just what it is And just what it is supposed to be. I like that and it's okay. Right now, I feel like my life is better than it has EVER been. Yep, tops 10 years ago, that's for sure. My marriage is better, my kids are healthy, happy, and lovable, my friendships are healthier and my walk with God closer. And even if I wake up tomorrow and all that is different, I know that it is how it is supposed to be. And I know I will be okay. God has proven that to me over and over again. He has brought me through, shown me how He works, how He heals, how He takes away, and how He blesses 10 fold! How awesome is He? The Most Awesome! Loving life!

Last night, my 15 year old daughter and I went to the hair salon, so when thinking about the poem I would write based on one word, I chose the one word "Hair". So, here is my poem, based on one word, Hair, written in 60 seconds. For more see Seedlings in Stone Hair Let's cut Let's color White or yellow? Purple? Flying, falling Washing, drying Up or down? Short or long? It's only hair Havin' fun!

Rooms Outdoors Big and quiet, cold and hard place to slip away and play Love the room at edge of yard at Grammy's I would stay On that porch the world looked big my imagination soared treasures found; a rock, a twig my mind was never bored A teen, the porch now focal for gatherings of friends At night hides good-night dawdle love whispers, life impends Now my porch I call my own extends the life we live family meals or time alone this space it holds and gives Memories and future fun My favorite room to meet when everything is said and done My porch time's very sweet

This weeks poetry prompt at Seedlings in Stone was yet another part of the house - the hallway. I pondered all week, having thoughts of what the hallway in my house represents, but struggled with writing a poem. Today's deadline, I sit and write...still rough, unfinished, but the feelings now moved into words. (sigh) This one was difficult. Connected Am I aware That it is where I monitor all Coming and going Making certain that Loved ones stay Tucked in covers Warm and safe Top of the hall Is where I stand Guard, waiting Are you coming? Where are your books? They roll through Doors like bowling balls Running, ready At night in bed A soft glow Each night light tells That sleep has come I read and watch No one moves The hallway still Connecting Brothers Sisters Mom and Dad Just down the hall

This weeks Random Act of Poetry prompt is to write a poem about the living room. The living room? I thought the kitchen was stretch enough... :) L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone mentions in her post that she had nothing to say about the living room, but the poem did. I found similar to be true; possibly her comments led me in agreement, but nonetheless, the poem found the words. Thus Living Walls Living Walls The walls wrap around Loved ones, gathered Conversations Sometimes silent Reading, napping The floors hold memories Of babies, crawling Cartoon watching Toys thrown askew Laughing, crying Closing eyes I hear Digital programs Soundtracks, popcorn Ballgames, cheering Dancing, music Shielded, as message That must be shared A tragedy When one must sit down Hugging, holding In contrast lights dance Bright colors and cheer Holidays Presents and parties Singing, giving The room we live in Grow up in, slow down in Together Abiding and searching Cocooning, protected

Just for fun, I decided to take L.L.Barkat's challenge on writing poetry again. Her challenge was to describe the kitchen (or a particular item). I chose the kitchen. Home's Heart She waits every morning The coffee pot brewing Early each day I visit her first And her day begins Slow with one cup Then the dog For his breakfast Clicking shiny wood With tiny toenails Activity starts Doors open and close Crumbs now on her counter Plates now in her sink She smiles, she is useful Her family now eats Aroma from stove Draw loved ones right in “How was your day?” She hears all the scoop Providing space For the gathering As family comes home at the end of the day she is the focus of all as we scrub, sweep, and scour Her counters are shiny Her floors now are clean And she waits till tomorrow And starts over again. To visit all the RAP (Random Acts of Poetry) participants, go visit The High Callings Blogs

Just over a year ago (by two days) I sat on an airplane leaving my former "home" in Virginia; my second visit after my move to Texas, at that time, 3 years ago. It was a day full of sadness and pain that words could not possibly express, not plain sentences anyway. The prayers that went up that day were certainly interceded by the Holy Spirit as much of what I prayed, there were no words. Things had changed in Virginia. And I lost the person who had been my very best friend there...the one we, as women, call "BFF" (best friend forever). She and I knew we had a David/Jonathon type friendship. The only thing missing for a while was our "Saul". He showed up and the story played out. On June 24th, I was David, behind the rock. And I left, never to be seen again. Yes, friends, the friendship had to end. My "Saul" was ready to kill the friendship...and he did. (to read the story of Jonathon and David, go to 1 Samuel 18 in the Bible.) A poem flowed fro...

In my dreams she is there, never seeing- her eyes will not look her heart is now closed. My memory is crisp as a cold winter morning- takes my breath away her voice and her laughter. For many years we traveled best friends- we played like young girls shared our deep thoughts. I sat in her presence when the counselor revealed- "He is abusive, you know" the words stuck in the air. My mind ran in circles wondering what should I do- watch pain in her eyes, the change in her soul? Each day she was sad and more grieved- her laugh was now strained, and truth became lies. The green in her eyes turned dull with the pain- the smile was infrequent, the singing was strained. In my desperation I lost the freedom to love- My judgment was winning, Respect all but gone. My anger toward God became all that I had- Wanting truth to be told, So healing could come. But God did remind me that vengeance is His- Only He was the one to convict of the sin. I made some grave errors that turned things a...

Well, I did it. I took the writer's challenge at a blog that I have been lurking around for some time. I found this blog through Laura at Wellblog 's place and have been enthralled ever since. I have dabbled in poetry on and off. Written some invitations, cards, and even a few song lyrics (for fun) but have been hesitant to post any. (roaring lion? see below post ) With the encouragement of a friend, I decided to take the challenge on L.L.Barkat's blog, in a lesson on seeing. I chose a subject that is cherished, a memory that was real and something close to my heart. The beach. Many, many days were spent at the beach in the 12 years I lived on the Southern Virginia coast. The memories are real, and when.......... I close my eyes and I can still see the beach. The endless spans of water Sometimes blue, green, or gray. It moves Gently and Violently Bubbles rise and falling forward. On and on. I close my eyes and I can still hear the crash Of tidal movement As earth slowly spi...