Sunday, March 29, 2009


poppies-4, originally uploaded by ilophoto.

I'm sorry to inflict this on you. I do write poetry, always have ever since I was tiny. But I usually keep it to myself because, well, poetry is like nudity; unless it's perfect and artistic it's kind of embarrassing. But this poem has been bugging me to write it (and rererewrite it) ever since reading my friend 1000 Shade of Twilight's blog entry about a rare perfect day he had. They're like sustenance, those days. They carry you through the other wearying days and they are utterly unplannable. Anyway, here's my poem in progress. If you like poems and have any thoughts on this one, I'll welcome them. If not, I understand (me in my embarrassingly itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini of a poem).

You get only a handful
of them, days when fate loses
track of you and the weight of being
brave slips off your mind. Everything falls
in unexpected place, the place you are. Once
we walked the rainy season
hills. The grasses, usually golden straw
were green as Spring
somewhere else. Around a bend
orange splashed the slope. Poppies
flared, burning their unaltered,
unplanned perfection for nothing
but us. Off leash we strayed
that waist-high wilderness of greening
grasses, drifting schools of coral
flowers, under an empty turquoise sky.
Like them we only breathed
in light, breathed out
air, no heavy lesson to bear,
like an awkward hothouse bouquet,
home to stand
for Eden.


more cowbell said...

Well I could feel it - that's good poetry to me.

"...when fate loses track of you and the weight of being brave slips off."

Also, being a dog owner, just the two little words, "off leash" brought the feeling to life for me.

You make we want to get in the car and drive out to the peninsula. Or, I should say, run away, not drive.

Pyzahn said...

Oh my, this is so lovely. You have painted a lyrical, touching picture. My compliment would be richer if I had a better command of the English language.

I'm so lame at poetry, I had to create my own format.

sageweb said...

Oh it is beautiful! Nakedness is pretty cool to though.

a thousand shades of twilight said...

What a beautiful poem, Elizabeth! You have no reason to be so self-effacing about your itsy bitsy teeny weeny etc (ha!). I am sure that so many people could relate to this. For me, the killer passage is "Like them, we only breathed in light, breathed out air, no heavy lesson to bear, like an awkward hothouse bouquet.."
You are so talented!

yellowdog granny said...

i love the poem...the picture i love also..mainly because i made love to a man i loved in a field that looked just like that..

Willym said...

We do only get a "handful of them" if we are lucky. You have captured one of them.

jason said...


mumbliss said...

Elizabeth, this is beautiful. What a wonderful catch of a time. Just what a poem can be. Thank you. I have been wandering around breathing in light thanks to you. It elevates me for a moment before I breathe out air again.

Anonymous said...

that's a funny line about nudity--but I gotta disagree!

I bet I'd be happy to take a naked hot tub with one of your poems any time!

Elizabeth said...

mumbliss - You know, sometimes it just knocks me out that I've known you for 40 years!!!! And here you are, reading my scribbles and writing me notes. It's one of the best things there is. xoxoxo

artpredator - Well that is quite a compliment! My poem is blushing and asks if she can wear a bathing suit in the hot tub. Thanks for visiting and commenting. I hopped over to your blog, and it looks great. Will enjoy perusing it soon.