Tossing and turning and thinking and viewing
Chest clenched
First roiling and next fidgeting feet
Still–to solid
Heavy weight
Soft suggestion
Sleep
and quiet
Before
eyes open
yet again
to sigh
then start
to feel the quality of the light
and the clock pronouncing
the tomb-time
earliness
resistant to my noticing
a spark of joy
in earlier days
and later nights
out of the tomb
to feel earth
spin round
into Sun
–elisabeth connelley
breathing treatment and Chinese Breakfast Tea just
after 5:30 am or is it 6:30 am and strangely dark 33
degrees in the middle of November what do I expect
still looking for Summer 80s breeze resentful laughing
at myself noting the still green grass
cranberry stained glass leaves gone to crumple in the
20 degree freeze of yestermorn now holding stock still
valiant and full of spread smooth strength and obstinance
to cling and to quiver shiver in the dark
maybe not a shiver–a wave hello fellow living thing to
fellow living thing awake in the dark
the kitchen has basil now and lemons bright yellow
lemons in a blue and white designed bowl special
scalloped edges cinnamon scent spirals up into my
nose pearls of tea bumps between my thumb and
finger squeezing free every exquisite and e-wordless
drop into the favored cup between my lips heaven
passes and sighs
–elisabeth connelley
“….the right words for a difficult lesson. To be precise
does not necessitate complication, except that it is so
difficult to pluck the right thoughts from the always moving
branch, and find the words to flesh out what it is they mean.”
–Luisa A. Igloria, The Buddha remembers Miss Sifora Fang,
Here too, is a link to the Official Website of the Poetess.
enclosed in your fist
i was safe
what if
i feel abused
and then you sigh
and you carefully open a space between two fingers
and i peer out
and i see
that I am being
held
up
close
in the light
of the sun
there is no ground beneath me
there is no where to run
there is not yet
any safe space
to be put down
–elisabeth connelley
I forgot somehow to run and to play around and around, up and then down laughing at you watching me as the flame rises and I float off in union. Maybe I can remember how. Please forgive me. I cannot forgive myself. At least…not yet.
bright sun
and one
degree above
zero
nothing
and yet
blue
fantasy and yellow
warming sun
slash softly
to make
undulating snow
respond
touch
is everything
–elisabeth connelley
inspiration,
the expression of essence
thru the vessel
that is
I
it can never be duplicated,
the sounding
and tones
of the voice
of the Creator,
the resounding
respondent tones
the energy
of making
I AM
perhaps often
and also
responding and resounding
in union, in and out
with other answering
movements of spirit
–elisabeth connelley
To the Light of September
“When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not
and for now it seems as though
you are still summer
still the high familiar
endless summer
yet with a glint
of bronze in the chill mornings
and the late yellow petals
of the mullein fluttering
on the stalks that lean
over their broken
shadows across the cracked ground
but they all know
that you have come
the seed heads of the sage
the whispering birds
with nowhere to hide you
to keep you for later
you
who fly with them
you who are neither
before nor after
you who arrive
with blue plums
that have fallen through the night
perfect in the dew”
– W. S. Merwin
How do you know when you have been active? Been of value? Been spectacular? average? I came here today as part of my morning habits. And I thought, and I was bothered. I thought about all of the images that I am posting daily on Purple Shoe Photography that no one knows about. I thought of the lack of posts here, because my expression has been leaning more toward the joy of sharing what my eye gets to see. I thought of my idea to post a few images here with links back to my photography blog. I thought of the partial poem that came to me last night, more as an utterance of affection for a loved one, that simply ended in emotion and feeling no longer connected to words and thus incomplete. There is no end to that kind of expression for me, but others, I suppose would not understand the reason for the posting in such a form.
I wonder at the hours spent attached to this chair. I note my observances of one of the children that by looking at her body or listening for a vocal sharing of what activity of value that has occurred that I too, may appear as doing nothing.
I got up this morning and I looked at all of the wonderful things that had sprung (come springing?) forth from the hearts and minds and spirits of those I follow each day. I particularly looked at images of nature and had nearly as much joy as having been to my own Tree Place.
I read about The Gypsies and the Mother Goddess over at Paulo Coelho’s blog. I shifted from listening to Silencio to Dinah Washington while reading.
I moved on to Writing Without Paper, and noted the post today about Sister Beckett. It had a link within it over to PBS. It has been quite a while since I thought to venture there and I am very glad that I did. The video section is different from what I have encountered before there and I viewed John Muir In The New World. I put that link off to the right side menu over there.>>>>
**edit–ok, so I removed the widget since publishing, here is the link– John Muir in the New World–PBS Click to Watch!
I have eaten, taken the required daily steps to keep me functioning, on many levels. And I feel satisfied and full. It is not yet eleven in the morning and I have had days worth of mental input and stimulation for my spirit! I’m headed outside to walk to the nearby park and after, I shall go back to reading a book that I began last night. I finished with the book The Invention of Hugo Cabret yesterday afternoon, upon the suggestion to read given by friend Kathy over at Lake Superior Spirit.
Elisa's Spot 