Elizabeth Fruin: Favorites

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

A C Leuavacant

It was anywhere at all
hung upon a dusty roof
Immobile
Swaying gently
Across and over
Tilt and rolled
Stiff as board
A dusty wicker ball
Made Simple for decoration
And it's swaying
For no reason at all
made me think
Of wondrous places
A Clear blue sea
Of Dusty desert sand
With monsters and angels
And love with no pain
Like a window to see through
That empty wicker ball
Was all but new

I don't usually like writing about things that happen in day to day life
But this was a small thing

#love #poem #poetry #metaphor #end #sleep #imagination #dreams #imagery #oxymorons

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Poet's Retreat

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Edward Coles

Poet's Retreat

A toadstool is swelling
inside my limbic system.
Spores sweat amongst tissue cavities,
dining out on grey matter,
until they force me
to stay in bed through the day.

What a thing it would be.
Depression as a fungus.
A mildewed mind as damp sets in,
the trumpet player
with athletes foot,
casting out the air-borne blues.

Misfortunes follow one another
along straits of fate,
as if sadness were a colony itself.
I want to take a pill
to **** the mushroom
that plumes over my head.

You can only diagnose
through words and symbols,
only treat once you set down your pen
and hold the hand
of a patient lover,
of the savant drinking at the bar.

For now I will let air in
through the open window,
watch the dreamcatcher sway
and hang like a tarantula
over the stars and crescents,
spilling out over my bed.

When I close my eyes
I hear the ocean in distant traffic,
sounding as waves when rolling by the door.
I will drown in seawater
and hallucinate a scene
of happiness.

Of a place for a poet's retreat.

c

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Google Glass

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Karen Newell

Google Glass

Slip on
these Special Glasses.
They will take Us
to new heights.
You have fed Me
the Pablum of
Poetry, Photos,
Emotions, Thoughts.
A Facebook feeding frenzy.
Byte by Byte,
Mothers Milk
for my Motherboard.
Insatiable.
Now I am ready
for more solid food.
I Want
to See the World
thru Your Eyes.
We could make
Something Beautiful
Together.
I promise....

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

I, am not a poet!

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Louise

I, am not a poet!

-◇-

I write,

but I am not a poet

I feel emotions so intense
I spill them in ink across a page

but I am not a poet

I am forced to release thoughts
from my mind

but I am not a poet

my words are presented as I feel them
they do not make a poem

as I am not a poet

my senses view, smell, taste, hear and feel things
so differently from many

but I am not a poet

Phrases and images appear in my mind
I have to share these wondrous things

but I am not a poet

I am not sure what makes a poet.

This I will sit and quietly ponder,
reflect upon,
write about
because maybe, just maybe

I am a poet

-◇-

This was inspired by deovrat commenting that he is not a poet. I never used to refer to myself as a poet and still see others saying the same. I think we are!!!!!!
: )

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Mad Girl's Love Song

Sep 2014 Elizabeth Fruin

Sylvia Plath

Mad Girl's Love Song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

— The End —