Elizabeth

Elizabeth Mar 2014

The lake is glass, the trees are still
And I, on the opposite side, will row this boat
My vessel of fear
Until the lonely shore becomes near
To get closer to thee

My oar is dripping
With the liquid gold of eons before me
And of the ladies past who made the same trek.
As I make it to shore,
Like never before I feel a stillness beneath me
And the steps I take to lessen the distance still become harder and
Harder,
Yet carry on I must, to progress my life much farther

The door creaks
And the windows squeak
As I enter through the way
Into the house of ages past and darkness never known
Where I will find you on my own,
An ending of beginning
A close at the opening of a door

Elizabeth Mar 2014

Truth

It chills the marrow of my bones,
Rattles my empty chest with a whooping gasp.
We live in a mindset clouded by falsification, washed over by an image of perfection.
With their blinders on, the sheep will follow forever-Their shepherds will lead until there's nothing left to lead to.

There will come a day when the birds no longer sing, and their throats will no longer resonate with the comfort we cling to tightly.
I fear for the world, the Earth. I hear its cry and try to help.
But I am only one person.
I fear for the children and lovers, blinded by ignorance

There will come a time where forests may smolder to nothing, and the leaves will no longer rustle in the wind.
I long for a renewal, a second chance.
I may never live to see one,
Our planet spent to nothing more than a piece of astrological garbage

There will come a time when everything will go to nothing,
There will come a day when everyone will finally see what we've done,
And that day will be one day too late

Inspired by "1984"

Elizabeth Feb 2014

Lust in a Forest

The flame will burn still stronger
And the cheers will echo loud
If you, my dear, just linger
In my world till we find our ways somehow

I feel my heartbeat quicken
And my jaw clenches tighter each moment
As you kiss like years gone by
And we smile and laugh in rhythm
With the neurons, sending signals sky-high

We dance with the doves and daughters
With the trees and daffodils that sing
They enchant us with their canter
It rings in my ears till morning

And the drum rattles harder and faster
As you struggle to keep me on the ground
But I cannot stay here much longer
The clouds are calling my name, now

For how can I resist its beckon
When the heavens wish for comfort

Only because you want me
The lust yields too strong to divert

Elizabeth Feb 2014

First Love

First love
So bright

Tongue held
Quite light

That step
So right

She fought
We fight

She thought,
"I might"

Then yelled,
"Go! Fight!"

And the play goes on in life

Elizabeth Jan 2014

I Want to Be a Safari Woman

I want to be a safari woman

I will stand in a regal position with my elephant gun cocked,
Finger resting firmly on the trigger.
Will I dress as an Indian war leader?
Will I choose to look like a gentleman?
Or will my attire consist of camouflage paint and steel toed boots that walk with a purpose?
It may change daily, but I still possess the same desire inside-
To be one with this habitat so intriguing, so mysterious and concealed.

The rivers call my name.
As I paddle my silver bullet canoe into the abyssal waters ebbing and bending around my streamline vessel,
The water calms at my own will in a passive manner much like the coo of a dove

The trees know my presence
-Such a command I boast-
They know to bow at my arrival and whistle their harmonious flutters.
The babies cower at the sight of my polished machete.
The mothers stiffen when I equip it with a cool hand.

I am Simba.
I am ruler.
Africa,
Asia,
India,
I own this land as my own,
And I understand it is needy.
I care for it in sickness,
I check its fever regularly,
I mother every animal, every bush,
And in return they signal their respect.

As the day ends, the sun sings "good night" and the moon chimes in with a "good morning".
I watch as the fish jump from the waters to catch their dinner airborne,
And the bats chirp above me while my campfire crackles in response.
I watch the stars mirror themselves onto the water, yearning to be remembered as something great.

A day of accomplishment achieved.
I am a real woman,
I am a safari woman.

Elizabeth Jan 2014

The Worker

What does the painter do?
    When he finds his home empty
    Night after night after night
    An empty fridge
    An empty bed
    An empty heart

What does the window washer do?
    As he tends to his helpless mother
    A sponge bath and blended dinner
    To quell her terminal aches and cries

What does the mechanic do?
    As he beats his wife out of alcoholic rage
    And she prays for the husband she married to reappear
    But he won't come,
    Not until too late

Elizabeth Jan 2014

Jello (Haiku)

The smell of Jello
Brings back the feeling of love
That comes from a spoon