ONE, TWO, THREE. . . AN ETERNITY

Posted on May 8, 2018 by elainedanforth

ONE, TWO, THREE. . . AN ETERNITY

One, two, three,
an eternity. . .
it’s sink or swim
if you refuse
to sink in
to what it’s like
to be
in your one and only body. . .
your life goes by
and with each stifled breath
and beat of heart,
you lose
a sliver of opportunity
to live as you were meant to be–

one with the Earth, the Moon, Pluto and Mars,
and each one of all the twinkling,
intertwining,
near and distant stars,

so,
drop down inside
and you will see,
in there, just what you are,
so deep and wide and bright and high
and free, free, free,
free, free, free, free.

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A BREATH OF MUSIC FROM UP HIGH

Posted on May 4, 2018 by elainedanforth

Birdsong unraveling
like a sweet, shrill piece of spiral tape confetti
bursting from a paper bottle party favor
in the bright spring air.

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SMALL OUTDOORS WITH FOG WHITE SKY

Posted on May 3, 2018 by elainedanforth

Glancing at
the small outdoors
with fog white sky
and wavering leaves
on spindly and on sturdy trees,
and on bud-ready rose bush
through my window,
past which
I note
a whisper of a breeze
with my wishful
indoors-toward-the-outdoors
thoughtful eyes.

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PAINT, PAINT, PENCILS, PENS, AND DOTTED LINE!

Posted on May 2, 2018 by elainedanforth

Paint, paint. . .
Finger pressure
smooshing colors
on the paper,
very bold. . .
the memory’s faint.

Tell a tale,
with curled up paper
tweaked, and ripped
into a spiral roll
to make limp leaves
bean-stalk-like,
quite fit to climb,
to meet a giant.

Imagination super pliant.

Fat pencils, pens,
blue dotted line,
somewhat like
blue peck marks
of ink-beaked hen,
to halve the words
to space the big and lower case,
loving every texture,
color,
newsprint fresh pulp paper odor,
all the whisper of it. . .

At first glance,
with heart and mind and hands
I knew
I had to do
and do and do
the images
and written word
that speak so deep and clear
and joyfully,
because it’s me,
in my reaching out to thee–

and even way back then,
as that fledgling little me,
I could see
I simply, positively, absolutely
loved it.

Posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A LITTLE BIRD HAS BROKE ITS LEG

Posted on April 28, 2018 by elainedanforth

What if
a little bird
has broke its leg,
and sits there
like a stone,
with beating heart
in stair step way
and all alone?

You look away
and fathom
what to do. . .

Meantimes pass. . .
It’s disappeared.
Some sort of residue
is there.

You read sometimes they’re just in shock,
and take a while
once more to find and join the flock. . .

But here,
you really can’t imagine
that that bird
away and through the air
has flown.

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HEAR, HEAR!

Posted on April 27, 2018 by elainedanforth

Etchings on a tinfoil sheet. . .

Wax cylinders
not of,
but for, the ears. . .

disks of black
evolved from that, , ,

and later rainbow arcing
little ones that shine like silver,

all the voice
and other kinds of noise
to pilfer,
or at least, capture. . .

Add a picture,
make it move,
and then you have
the world enraptured.

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LIFE GOES ON– WITH A MIND OF ITS OWN

Posted on April 25, 2018 by elainedanforth

Life goes on
with a mind of its own
but it doesn’t always tell you
what it’s thinking.

Unless you listen.

And look and smell and taste and feel.
You might miss much
(or not)
by blinking.

For,
even with mouth, noses, hands, ears and eyes shut,
there’s something deeper you might touch
that will shine so wonderful,
it would not nearly paint the scene,
the whisper in your lover’s ear,
saying
“How marvelous it glistens!”

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HOW ARE YOUR WORDS?

Posted on April 20, 2018 by elainedanforth

Words.

They can be
cheap as water. . .
and as does water,
have much weight.

Sometimes one waits
to find or allow to come
the words,
but in some corner,
somewhere caught there,
they come not out–
they dare not pass
the starting gate.

Words can cost much,
when faulty chosen,
or offered for soft touch,
in its place. . .

Words can be constructive. . .
or destructive. . .
or neither,
rolling off,
like usually penetrating water,
right over one duck’s back,
or maybe, rather,
merely vainly uttered,
gone to waste.

Words can be lofty,
clumsy, elegant or crafty,
while some are best
left in the gutter
and some are hecka hip
though others, out of date.

They can be healing
and revealing,
or hurt much more
than sticks and stones,

so be sure before you share,
like little ducks, in one sweet row,
that you have them somewhat governed
by your little heart,

so they come out
as close as human-possible
to straight.

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BENT UNDER THE MORNING STAR

Posted on April 20, 2018 by elainedanforth

Bent
and bent
and bent
in pain,
despair. . .

And very nearly
broken.

The time is given
but, knowing not how good
nor how much,
it feels more lent,
like an expiring
subway token.

The dreamers. . .
Wonders may they craft
in pencil, pen,
or maybe streamers,
cloth
or nails and solid wood,
but not “producing”
good or gooda,
like others
who look may
to many
look worthier and more driven,

And though there’s
cold and dark and chill,
somehow these dreamers persevere
as though
there still were hope somewhere,
a dawn
of brightness yet unseen
that, over some horizon wide,
through the one-starred morning dark
one day
shall be broken.

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ME-MAKER, ME-MAKER, MAKE ME A ME!

Posted on April 18, 2018 by elainedanforth

Me-maker
me-maker
make me a
me. . .

I seem already here,
but I don’t grow
as simply as a tree.

Some say I must act;
some say,
learn to just be. . .

Is there some
me
that I feel and see here?
Is it good?
Will it last?
(Knock on wood).

What are my prospects,
my figures, my facts?
Are they okay?
Or is there some sort
of dire need
to redact?

Am I here just for free,
or am I bound
to some sort of pact?

How long (and how)
will I stay?

Will I decay,
disappoint and regret,
and look back
on my slippery self
with dismay?

Or will I pass through
and on
with a smile on my face
and the core
of my powerful essence
intact?

All that
is enough food for thought
for my day. . .

and I’d wager,
if I chew on it well,
I will come to see
that its value will weigh
oh so much more
than any possible
snack!

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