And if you are to love,
Love as the Moon loves;
it does not steal the night
It only unveils
The Beauty of the dark
Love as…
Category: poetry
Passing
PASSING
you're in Hawaii so I drove to your house clicked off the headlights rolled down the windows and bathed in the dry oak and grass winds that normally surround you which made me think of Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston, how for decades they missed each other, each too proud or lost to find themselves back to the other's laughter and company all that longing over language used and I wonder if your life is so full that one less relationship is relief or if this same ragged cloth beating my face and chest wind-whips through the vacuum I've left
Thank you to the editors of Apollo’s Lyre for first publishing this poem.
Sand
SAND
brown naked body sprawled beneath the sun scars of ritual and beauty crossing its belly where birds, dogs and people have left tracks soon made invisible by waxing tide
Thank you to the editors of Agape: A Creative Arts Magazine for first publishing this poem.
If Bird
IF BIRD
you would be my loon calling long past light, my mourning dove, my sweetest finch flashing sun from black as night. If my bird you were I'd feed you nectar from my palm and plant thick trees for you to rest and nest until I could transform my arms and hands to feathered limbs— our hearts remade as song.
Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.
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“Blue Heart,” mixed media & photo by Elizabeth
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There will never be
only love
only peace
but there can be
more love than
before we got here
and more peace
because
we stayed here.
David Richo, Everyday Commitments
Elizabeth creates 3-D art and photographs with eggshells because their fragility and strength parallel the human condition.
Longing to Belong
LONGING TO BELONG
girl with eyes too large and milky teeth fairies must wait years for in a country that ripped her from Mama locked her in metal cage no laughter crosses her howl swells into lost others' sounds for families babies resounds past soiled dreams strips belonging as those ripping teach children how arms are weapons
Thank you to Writers Resist for first publishing “Longing to Belong.”
Poodle Sprites
POODLE SPRITES
Spring appears in waves as sea of curls return to play - gold growls sail through blue.
Flying Raccoon-Angel Dog
CRAZY
It's crazy how much I love this girl - if I'm a pirate, she's my mountain of gold and while sailing at night, my northern star yet when we dock, she's my Zanzibar.
(Joya picks up almost anything and turns it into a toy that she flips in the air, catches, chases, since everything is animate and joyful play in her world.)
Catalyst
CATALYST
As if disintegrating the stone of our being to sand we pour ourselves empty to be remade beyond the merciless sins we rise above. The beauty of your breast cleaved away, my lungs stomping their sun-fire dance always, yet we reshape ourselves as balm for each other till we can bear our stories' terrible weight and are transformed as if to sound - water on granite, wind through pine, an osprey's haunting cry.
Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.
Poetry…
POETRY
is just the shadow of a dog... The dog is elsewhere, and constantly on the move.
Elizabeth Oakley Weaver 