Out With the Old... etc, etc.

So far since I've started this blog (which I haven't told anyone about, and therefore can post whatever I want without fear of embarrassment) I've only posted random poems and one angry/sad rant about losing my mom. I guess now that I've run out of my semi-decent older material, it's time to start posting new stuff. Or I could post my old even crappier poems... but no one wants that.

I just finished a rather silly little children's story that I need to tweak a little, and then I'll probably post it here. I'll also make some copies and think about sending them out to publishers before I decide it's all too much bother and throw them in the recycling bin, where many such projects have gone before...

I pretty much started this to have a place to post some of my poems and short stories... but also to explore what makes life worth living. Most of the time I live my life discovering many things that make it all worthwhile, but sometimes things look pretty bleak and I need to reassess the point of it all.

So... here's to the life worth living! Cheers.

Substitute

I hear my name softly called
lizlizlizlizliz
It is your voice that whispers
It is the wind in the firs.

I feel the touch of your fingers
at the nape of my neck.
They trail down... down... and stop.
Your caresses are only raindrops.

Wind pushes the hair back from my face
Rain pelts my mouth with a kiss
I close my eyes and accept with grace
The substitute for your love is this.

2.09.09

At McDonald's
Nai plays
I read
Deepak Chopra
and try to believe
when Mom dies
she will exist
again.

Moonrise

Diana's moon is rising
over the house tonight,
her glowing silk surprising
the darkness with her light.
My children dream in their sleep,
nestled in her clouds.
I lie and count my sheep,
sleep lost among her shrouds.

Waiting

I've been waiting for you--
Bare legs braced against splintered posts
Muscles knotted with tension
Fingers pressed whitely on the worn railing
Eyes straining into the shadows
Skin textured like sandpaper with the cold.
I've been waiting for you--
While stars spread like fireworks into the mist
While raindrops shattered on my forehead
While curious eyes fixed on my rigid silhouette
While the moon burst between the clouds
And taunted me with silver rays.
I've been waiting for you
For so long.
Many lifetimes.

Goodbye

The silhouette--
a heron, blue.
The sun has set.
I think of you.
Rain rips apart
a spider's web.
She'll reweave, and
be destroyed again.
Sweet cedar scent
drawn out by the wet
uplifting and fresh
can't help me forget
your so-sad eyes
the shake of your head
the soft "good-bye"
you barely said.

Wednesday Morning

Wednesday morning.
Tinkerbell watches Curious George.
Cheerios crunch under pajama'd feet.
I inhale coffee fumes-- no time to drink it.

Fall Walk

11.19.08

We wade through a sea
of brown crunchy leaves.
Every swooshing step sounds
like a wave on the shore.

A tiny silver toy jet
draws a perfect white line
across the blue chalkboard sky.

The cat is striped with grassy shadows.
He crouches and pretends
that he is the tiger
and we are antelope.

Groundhog Day

I don't deal with Mom's cancer
by standing outside
inhaling a clove cigarette.
I need the smoky softness
to blur the clarity of the night.
The moon is so close.
I could surprise him--
kiss his astonished mouth.
The rushing whoosh of the freeway
is soothing,
hushed by distance.
Snowdrops break through
the frozen midnight soil.
Their little lives mean nothing.

2.03.09

2.03.09

The frost lays quietly, whitely,
in the early morning hours.
A blade of grass melts on my tongue
like a sugary confection.
The unstoppable sunrise
yellows houses cars trees flowers
Spreading over the world
like a beautiful infection.

For Mom's Fight, That Others May Win

Right now, I am wearing her diamond earrings. I'm drinking from her favorite coffee cup. And I am overcome with sadness, because I shouldn't be doing these things... she should."She" is Mom, Diana Williamson, and she died last month at 59 from cancer.I was going to throw a huge 60th birthday party bash for my folks, but now Mom is dead and Dad doesn't even want to think about his birthday. For the last 42 years, he shared his birthday with her.Mom had been retired two weeks when she went in to the doctor to see about the swelling in her uterus. She and Dad had worked hard, and now it was time to live a little-- travel, indulge her many hobbies, dote on her grandchildren. Instead, she received a terrible diagnosis and died a year and a half later.God, I hate cancer.Cancer robbed my daughters of their grandmothers, both gone much too young. Cancer took away Dad's true love and life partner. Cancer killed my mom, the best woman I have ever known.Mom loved life. She woke up every day determined to make that day the best ever. Even at the end of her life, when she couldn't get out of bed and was attached to machines, she started each morning by looking out the window and saying "What a beautiful day." Every night she said to Dad "What a perfect day." She was the happiest, nicest person I've ever known. She gave herself so completely to so many people, those of us left behind haven't figured out how to fill the holes she's left in so many lives. I know we can't. No one could do it but Mom. She had the biggest, brightest smile and the most contagious laugh.She loved life. And she wanted everyone to have a chance to live it to the fullest, which is why she was so active in the Relay for Life. It's because of her I got involved, raising as much money as we could for the American Cancer Society. Even though her death is so recent and raw, if our positions were switched I know she would be here, writing a letter to raise money to help fight cancer.So even though this is a pretty rough, ranting letter, and even though I've been crying trying to get through it... fighting cancer is more important to me than ever before. So please, if you have a little spare cash, buy a luminaria or two. They are $5 each, and you can dedicate it to Mom or someone else you love who has been touched by cancer. Make checks out to the American Cancer Society, and mail them to me. I won't get to see Mom at the Relay for Life this year, but maybe I can see a big block of luminarias for her, with her beautiful smile shining up at me.

Thank you,
Liz

Blue

Blue

light and shade
across the field
shadows played
where bluebells pealed
blue on jade
their petals wheeled
blew blue glade
my spirit healed