"elise" poems
Today is the anniversary of another trip around the sun for the woman I love more than any other.
Happy Birthday to my mother, Elise
who drew me a picture of the female reproductive system
and labeled the parts
and explained the process
of ************
before my body ever had a chance to frighten me
who taught me the word
******
and taught me that there was nothing silly, or shameful, or icky
about the word
or having one.
who taught me
that people are inherently the same
and humans are valuable
and the meaning of the word
humanity
and the value of justice
and the meaning of the word
"injustice"
and consistently confronted it
often uncomfortably
but un-apologetically
whenever we found ourselves in its presence
Who responded to compliments
about my appearance as a child
with humble disinterested grace
and taught me with intention
in everything she said and did
that what is valuable about me
is my mind
and my heart
kindness
spirit
ethics
righteousness
some may say too much of the latter
who taught me about Janis, and Sylvia, and Frida
and Roe v Wade
and punctuation and articulation and diction
and the Serenity Prayer, and that Galway Kinnel poem about what is still possible...
I love you Mom. I could go on forever. My love and my gratitude for you - and what you have gifted and instilled in me - is bigger than the universe and eternity and possibility.
So glad you are with the sweetest child in the whole wide world this evening.
Loving and sending you love and bright light so hard.
Micah Haverly 2015
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
~~~<@>~~~
his piano
speaks of longing
a few notes in minor key
they tell in perfect
lines belonging
to the fingers
only thee
~~~<@>~~~
soulsurvivor
(c) 2014
rewritten
(c) 3-16-2015
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, memory loss is impossible to the sense of smell:)
ancient perfume box
left somewhere in a classic loft
opened moments in a meet
to an old of an old sweet
memory in a tape on a leash in fear
like a flashback of brief to four years
disclose the good not the sad
never the bad
already made sure to wear
on the days of happy in mere
and now the odor
smells a swift of colors
once in each while
go back a little in miles
a tickle to the nose
something out of Beethoven's ears
souvenirs the precious chandeliers
things the mind randomly chose
several pasts when my pen couldn't write
and the piano served a beam of light
in an ocean
sinking deep with no motion
escapes
from each New Year's mistake
for the lifetime spaces
of the turn from the tackling faces
pink floral promises
of better opposites
fragranced to keep a stay
afraid a glass would slip away
------ravenfeels
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 6:46 PM UTC
Elise
and
Romeo
got on the bus.
Elise carried a cake
with a thousand red
ribbons
dripping like
loose ***** lips,
or so they appeared to Romeo.
Romeo came on with
a hard-on
on his face,
or so it appeared to Elise.
"I don't want
any other man
over at my
house,
I don't care if he's your cousin,
you hear me?"
Elise let out a silver snarl.
"I'm not playing with you
woman."
Elise's whispers
wavered between razor-thin roses
and soft spikes.
"I love you
Romy,
but you're on some
other,
I ain't seen a man
in a while,"
The roses that break the skin,
the spikes
that blunt the pain.
"Oh that's how it is?"
"It has to be."
Elise
carried the cake off.
Romeo
got stuck with the cart
full of groceries,
and three wheels missing,
just dragging
the thing.
Elise strutted like fat *******
strut.
Romeo called after her
about other men,
other men,
other men
that had been in his house
without him knowing,
he hated and loved her,
dragging all the sustenance
in the world
behind him.
Elise loved him too,
loved him
even when she was with
other men,
and that's the thing
he couldn't figure
out.
Love is a hard thing
to deal with
for anybody.
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 9:52 PM UTC
urgot, u big oaf
do u want to eat another bread loaf?
ur just so fat
i hope ur not a democrat
because this spider
might cryder
if u dont hug janna
with a bannana
soraka is now sad
and that is bad
league of legends is gay
but we play every day
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
You see,
when I escaped your love
I had rocks tied to my ankles in knots,
and I walked into the lake
barely recognising myself,
just caught up in a memory and replaying
the pain in my head, so numbing that
I detached from anyone else’s love.
I thought love, real love, was about sacrifice.
You fed me lies about true love -
never ending ‘happily ever afters,’
and in my naïve mistaken heart,
I trusted to believe real love meant death -
that true sacrifice was self-sacrifice.
So, dressed in the wedding dress
(I was to wear on Monday)
my hair plated the way you liked it,
your grandma’s emeralds around my neck,
earrings dropping as a pendant, and the ring
on my left hand, I walked.
I walked.
I held tightly onto the bouquet of lilies
(were they not always meant for funerals)
and I stepped into the lake.
Cold water rising up my thighs,
cold water which actually felt more ‘known’
than the unknown land of your love.
I wasn’t even scared.
I’d washed down fear with
a bottle of pain.
I washed down fear with
pills of despair.
I just kept walking.
And the only sound I remember,
is my humming of Beethoven’s Für Elise.
In my mind, I could see you dancing
en pointe- your feet as eloquently poised
as the pianists fingers,
never in a race to finish -
just movements of grace.
And that’s who I am today -
I am the dancer
(Odette and Odile).
My humanity is now outdated -
I too, throw myself into the lake,
and, as I take my final breath
we – you and I, my lover –
are seen flying past the moon.
© Sia Jane
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
She wears the sea
in her eyes
and dances with the sand
beneath her feet
I would swear I could hear
the sun playing on the ivory
keys of her smile
and at night when the wind
is right across the sound
she runs her fingers
through my waves
and lingers while she plays
Für Elise on a black piano.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
Seven "Wire" girls
One after the other,
Before being blessed
With our baby brother,
Seven "Wire" girls
The first was Elise,
Followed by Annie
Before Margaret made three,
Ruby arrived in the middle
As the case may be,
Not to be left behind
Along came Mimi,
Sweet Stella and Mary
Brought up the rear,
Before the appearance
Of brother D.G. so dear,
All the children
Of Maggie and J.B.,
Now you know as much as me
About our family genealogy.
August 8, 1995
2k
Hi.
My name's Blair and
I'll be your instructor tonight.
Defensive driving with a class full of
Deviants.
Even the instructor had
Five Tickets
His first year and a half in San Antonio.
But, hey! We get an insurance discount.
Sometimes people get to the front
And they're not sure if
They're supposed to have a book.
What book?
You still have time before class--
Get those donuts!
Do I have the right book?
Everybody needs a pen--
If you have a fairy pen, that won't do.
Today we're going to learn about driving techniques...
Don't worry.
No matter how far off track I get,
We still get done early.
What's the real policy on pecans?
I was wondering
If you could cut the jet noise
Between, oh...about 5.30, sixish?
Split-second decisions
Spot the hazards
You're driving along 1604
And the speed limit changes to
Fifty
Overnight.
Where were the warning signs?
Is this the book?
How hard is it to drive your car if you're not in the driver's seat?
Did anybody get the donuts?
Where's the pizza he was talking about?
Why isn't he in the driver's seat?
Why am I?
Out of hundreds of architects,
Why did Newsweek ask
A nearby park resident?
Your jury isn't attorneys.
No, it's people.
Your punishment isn't
The Red Square.
No, it's--
CUT THE JETS!
WHAT BOOK IS HE TALKING ABOUT?
I WANTED PEPPERONI.
List common signs of an impaired driver.
First, he's not in the driver's seat...
Sometimes people get to the front...
Of donuts and pizza
And they're not sure
Which one should I choose?
If they're supposed to have a book.
No matter how far off track I get,
There isn't a policy for pecans.
We still get done early.
You can't stop the jets from flying.
The jury isn't attorneys.
Drive within the speed limits and
The jury is people.
Pay attention to your driving.
I found the book!
All right--class is over;
I'll see you on Thursday.
I thought we were going to have pizza.
I'll bring donuts...next time.
I was wondering...
How hard is it to steer
Your car if
You're
Not in the driver's seat...?
~Christa Elise Cannon.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Though, if you ask her name, she says Elise,
Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass,
And own that, if her aspirates take their ease,
She ever makes a point, in washing glass,
Handling the engine, turning taps for tots,
And countering change, and scorning what men say,
Of posing as a dove among the pots,
Nor often gives her dignity away.
Her head's a work of art, and, if her eyes
Be tired and ignorant, she has a waist;
Cheaply the Mode she shadows; and she tries
From penny novels to amend her taste;
And, having mopped the zinc for certain years,
And faced the gas, she fades and disappears.
1.8k
9th month
September2013:
blue skys
warm air
at night it would go cold
the autumn leaves slowly started to fall
still rained from the summer
and the cold wind
started to chill us to the bone
On the first week
i walked to my friends house
with Zoe and her french exchange student Elise on my side,
we waked into Zoes house and sat in the kitchen
Elise had an apple with peanut butter
Me and Zoe Had Soup
We walked after to a little River bank,
Elise sat on the rocks
i skipped flat rocks like Amelie Poulain
Zoe took picutres of the river.
We found a ripped dollar bill with a phone number written on it
Zoe texted it, no answer
it rained later that evening
i reasted on my bed and thought about the day
with a smile
i Biked to my favorite field
one evening...
recited a poem i made up in my head
the one line that i repeted was
" Will the love of Fall and Winter choose me this year?"
a week later a girl named Kirsten walked into my life
with a smile and wave, i wanted to meet her
we talked one day and planned to go to my favorite field
on a Friday..Friday the 13th..not so unlucky
though i cut myself shaving
i went to go meet her that friday
i walked down the stairs
there she was at the bottom of the stair case
"What will become of us?"i thought
She facing the other way,
i wondered if we would become friends
I tapped her on the shoulder
turned around with a surpised look
then she gave me a warm smile
We went to the field
sat in a childrens park
Then sat in the grass that melted in the sun
i showed her a leaf that looked like a heart
..i kept it under my hat...
i walked her home, she lived close by
i gave her a hug and left with a smile on my face
Got home and put the heart leaf on my wall
We became friends
Talked everyday
i would walk her home
and meet her in the field
as i came in riding my bike
She kissed me before i left...
I started to fancy her
she to started fancy me
I asked if she would be mine
she told me wait
i said " i will!"
Nights came
when we walked around looking the stars and looking at the city lights
laying the grass and runnning around
we were happy
The night was ours
She kissed me goodnight
i went home
fell upon my flower my bed
and dreamed of her...
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
The one constant in life,
raised by the strong and the bold,
standing up to those who aimed to shoot her down,
never giving up, always giving her all,
continuing step after step after each hard fall.
The generosity beheld,
selfless to those who needed a hand,
just a call away for loved ones shaken from life's unyielding grip,
never rejecting an opportunity to be a shoulder to cry on,
looking up to those cherished friends who she so easily came upon.
The love shared with those around her,
without judgement or criticism,
revealing a half-witted sense of humor,
making fun out of uncomfortable situations,
sometimes embarrassing for her closest relations.
She taught me what I know today,
strength, ambition, selflessness, love,
coming from a line of strong women like no one's ever seen before,
passed from mother to daughter, generation to generation,
filling me immensely with adoration.
Elizabeth,
my mother,
who learned from the best; Emilia, who built unbreakable bonds.
Now passing that way of life onto her daughters;
Eryn and Elise.
The strongest women you will ever meet,
setting us up to accomplish remarkable feats.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Let me take a minute of your time to set the precarious scene,
It was a warm august night under a full moon and I could see the stars in abundance,
as I sat on the floor leaning on the couch looking out of the opened front door.
I was drinking relatively expensive american red wine,
which goes to say it was probably lower grade on a global scale,
and drinking it from a beautiful crystal wine glass.
I sipped on the expensive swill, while over my right shoulder,
on the couch I could hear moans of happiness from the two girls making out just above me.
There lips could be heard pounding harmoniously along with Fur Elise by Beethoven
playing softly in the background
and the moon, the stars,the opened door and the pleasure could be heard not only from Beethoven,but also from there lips embarked in joy Chopin would not have acheived,
For judgement layed at the open door under the stars and the moon and for Chopin.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
Auntie's friend
gave me
a cheese sandwich
I sat on
an old settee with it
her daughter Elsie
sat at the other end
of the settee
as far from me
as she could get
nibbling at a sandwich
why are you sitting
so far way from Benny?
her mum said
don't want
to sit next to him
Elsie said
you'll sit near Benny
and like it
her mum said
Elsie shifted
nearer to me
with a ******* lemons
sort of face
and nibbled her sandwich
not looking at me
her mum walked back
to the kitchen where
she was talking
to my aunt
what sort of sandwich
have you got?
I asked
bread
she said coldly
but what
is in it?
I said
corned beef
she said
do you like corned beef?
I said
why do you
talk to me
you're worse
than Billy the bird
she said
I like talking to you
I said
I don't like you
talking to me
she said
I ate my sandwich
in silence
for a few moments
what year
were you born?
I said
after swallowing
a bit of sandwich
1946
she said
that is why
I am 5
I nodded
and looked at her
I was born in 1947
in London
I said
that is why
you are 4
she said
she nibbled
more sandwich
Mum said
kids from London
got fleas
she said
a few minutes after
I haven't
I said
you smell of dog
she said
just then Elise’s mum
came in and slapped
Elise’s leg
with her hand
don't be horrible to Benny
I heard you
I nibbled my sandwich
say sorry
her mum said angrily
Elsie looked at her shoes
and mumbled a sorry
her mum walked back
to the kitchen
Elsie rubbed her leg
with her small hand
and looked at the sandwich
in her other hand
didn't mean it
Elsie said
her leg getting red.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:47 AM UTC
i remember the first time bryn brought a boy for christmas
his name was chris
and we had to distinguish between him and my cousin chris
so we called him gay chris
because he had lots of pockets
and he always looked better than my cousins
who hardly ever tried to look presentable.
i remember last christmas
how damon gave elise
sweaters from a thrift shop and fleetwood mac records
and how happy she was.
i never wanted to be allie from the notebook,
and i never wanted you to be noah.
in the 8th grade,
hidden between shelves of a torn-down library where i'd sit for hours,
was a short, thick book with pages of romanticized post-it notes
and the smell of sawdust.
dash and lily's book of dares
was all the things i'd been dreaming about.
the first-glance feelings in the middle of new york,
the warm feeling melting through your bones with an even warmer drink.
i've always wanted a chris
or a shaina
or a natasha.
i've always imagined thanksgiving day going differently for once in my life.
when my uncle asks me if i'm texting my boyfriend,
i want to say "yes, actually" and i wanted to find a boy
to take to my grandmother's house.
i wanted to show him
how tristan would pay me to go sneak him cookies,
and the way we fought over couches.
but now we took all the couches out of the basement,
and i think someone else is living in that house.
but there's still thanksgiving,
there's still an extra seat at the table,
and i'm not sure but i think justin is bringing maya this year.
so when it is my turn to go around the house and say hello to everyone,
and my uncle asks, "how many boyfriends do you have?" teasingly,
i can smile and say "just one"
and it can be you.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
My hands tremble as i get close
how long has it been?
i wipe the dust off the keys
it looks exactly the way i left it
my fingers urge to touch
my ears long to hear the sound
so i decide to sit down
i can feel my heart beating
and my stomach turning
as i place my fingers on the keys
they feel cold and neglected
i whisper sorry under my breath
how could i leave it for so long
here i feel like i belong
deciding on a tune to play
which ever i haven't forgotten
fur elise is the first in my mind
to my surprise i remember it
the first section i played, it echoed
a bolt of excitement rushed through me
then a smile slowly started creeping
Jun 14, 2011
Jun 14, 2011 at 9:16 AM UTC
Godless Mornings
Trickle down my *******
The empty thoughts shrivel
Into a pulsating pyramid,
Blushing with ribbons of grief.
Dreams that others hear,
And I cannot see,
Spiral down towards
Shards of glass and the souls of feathers.
Bring me some thoughts
When you come back~
Thoughts of teepees
And of rain.
Bring me a cloud
To hold my tears
And place it on my wrist.
Do you not hear?
I'm asking to let go of this balloon.
Red...follows me.
Please leave--I want to see pinks.
Heavy laughter, dark and foreboding...
That doesn't sound pink.
I'm afraid in the dark...
My coiled dreams will send me to
Laughing Clowns,
Painted Smiles, and Crazed Eyes.
Move...just one finger...
The unknown entity of possession...
Breathe...Breathe...
Bushes in the background
And I pick Lollipops that are
Not Quite Ripe.
The roots are singing "Danny Boy"
And when they get to the
Snow-hushed valleys,
I am asleep
Entwined in their tentacles.
Angel's fish come to wake me...
Don't ask me how
Who's Angel?
I fly through the vents
Into your Room...
And there I shall ever Be,
A placenta protecting my Smile
The Terrible Twos never stop
What is that sound?
Wake up, Love.
I'd rather not--
It looks to be another
Godless Morning.
~christa elise cannon p------.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
I knew a girl once, I knew her inside and out. I could count her flaws by the scars on her knees and I could name her victories with a smile. I saw her when she was flying, but also when she was falling and she has told me things that only the depths of her mind knew. She was alone a lot but never lonely. I don’t remember a time she was ever bored because her mind would run faster than any river I had ever seen and her thoughts could paint masterpieces in the air that belonged in art galleries. I was one of the only ones to ever see them. She might have talked a little too fast or said a little too much but I loved her.
Her hands were gentle but when she found something to hold onto her arms would have the force of 1000 men.
She tried never to break anyone.
Except herself.
I remember her finding tiny worlds at the bottoms of coffee cups, the remains of what others had left behind. Within metaphors she could tell her entire life but you never really knew her unless you took the time to ask. She would tell you everything; she would tell you nothing. She had a lot of faults but she kept them hidden under her pillow in hopes no one would ever think to check there.
She was beautiful really, but she knew it so that kind of took away from the allure. She loved and loved and loved. That was her best and worst quality. An incurable disease plagued her, and she used to tell me it was just her mind, just her past living within her skin. I knew better, I had always seen the warning signs. She always had to know the end of something and when she got to know someone she would know them completely, absolutely. Better than the back of her hand.
She was my best friend.
It was the sadness that got her. It consumed her mind like a sea. She was no stranger to drowning and even though she was a terrific swimmer there were a couple times that I truly thought she would never resurface again. There was once that she stood on a bridge, maybe she was daring the water to try to take her from up so high. She said it called her, and she almost answered. Strength is not always measured in numbers on weights, sometimes it is measured in how many people one holds up in their life, and how many times one wants to give up yet keeps going. War zones exist overseas but they also tend to exist in fragile minds. Sometimes she would forget the feeling of her own skin, and she would hurt to remember that she was still real. Numbness was the enemy. Surrounding her were people with dead eyes, and that wears on a human.
She wanted to find a way to fly but simply found better ways to fall.
People thought she was happy.
That was the sad part.
I knew a girl once.
And I was the only one who really knew her.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 7:35 AM UTC
Visage of an angel,
Just a mirage,
Lies from a stranger,
All a facade.
A halo, of play-doh,
Wings made of clay, no
One would ever guess this fallen angel's far from faithful.
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
Then I went to city park
to feed breadcrumbs to pretty larks.
I brought my niece Elise
and my nephew Patrice.
Well we stayed 'til after dark.
My brother's wife, she called me,
so I waived the dollar-nine fee.
She wants her kids.
So I closed my lids,
and I told her that that won't be.
Sorry, I'm taking them now, they're mine.
I'm not wantin' to listen to her whine,
so I hung up the phone,
let out a moan,
said it's time to go, it's after nine.
The children asked when they're going home.
"Well, we're hittin' the road, going to roam."
After 77 miles of driving,
they both got to crying'
and I told 'em to SHUT THEIR FUCKIN' MOUTHS.
I pulled over the car at Oregon Shortine,
took the W. Michigan Cross to Madison
merged to Blancheflower Ave.
Wait!
I said stay right fuckin' there.
I opened the trunk.
And with a THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
I bashed out their brains on the seats.
How are you, my friends?
I miss you, I was hanging out with some unsavory joggers,
and they always wanted to see some buffalo.
So I cleaned the seats.
I love a machine, I love a machine. I love a machine. How can this be, how can I feel so eruditely unclean? Is this the ends to my ill-gotten means? So how are you?
Then I left them lying there, across from the Lebanon Computer Cafe.
So I left them-
Advise me...
It was after all getting late.
My life is a net, my life is a net. I swirl and unfurl and stone the design, I curse myself, my heartstring facsimile. I played piano to forget, but my mind needs 89 keys to remember how to do that, and all I had was 88.
So I went to bed.
It was tea time.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
Piles of Shoes
Of Broken Glass
Of Torn Stars
And Cramped Hair
Stripes of Grey
And Heartless Wire
Rain of Ash
Puddles of Bone
Pool of Eyes
And Swimming Grace
Crumbs of Life
In Soup of Nausea
Odours of...
...What?
What...
What Never Happened...
Still...
There were
Piles of Shoes.
~christa elise cannon
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
It is
beginning.
Mouse on the C
Mouse on the keys
Photovoltaic benjamins
New cologne: Mars Musk
X marks the interstellar profit
Build-a-baby with CRISPR-Cas9
Mouse jumping playing "Für Elise"
Are words worthy of the afternoon?
Does the value offer gain an interest?
Nicholas coils are being insistent.
Mouse waving, saying, "see!
Will you follow me?"
Scampers toward
ignited rockets
I'll follow him
into the
gold
rush
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
Shamira
said to me
come for lunch
so I told
my mother
I'll be out
for my lunch
this Sunday
Shamira's
parent's place
was empty
just us two
sitting there
eating lunch
drinking wine
I can play
piano
I know
some
Beethoven
if you like?
Ok then
I replied
so she did
and I watched
her fingers
moving on
the keyboard
Beethoven's
Fur Elise
sounded well
after that
and a short
Chopin piece
how about
some dessert?
I asked her
have we time?
she replied
my parents
may return
anytime
always time
for dessert
I told her
so we went
to her room
and undressed
and began
then we heard
her parent's
car pull in
the front drive
o my God
she uttered
and we stopped
and got dressed
she uptight
my pecker
all distressed.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
That fragile cry
Those tiny hands
Such a small body, such big pain.
That tiny heart that pumps much too hard,
That tiny heart was pierced much too young.
So close to death,
So close to life,
So in between,
It isn’t right.
Will they hear the pitter-patter
of little feet running?
Will they hear the softest of cries
so early in the morning?
Will she grow and become strong?
Will she go, and leave us so young?
Too young to fight,
Too young to give up,
Too young to die,
Too young to live.
Little Abigail, close your eyes
you will not have to fight.
Mommy has you in her hands
everything will be alright.
Grow big and strong in the Lord
for you are meant for so much more.
Little Abigail, close your eyes, and sleep.
From you I want to hear not a peep.
Rest now and later we shall see.
The running, the growing, of your little feet.
Abigail Madison Elise Nevitt,
AMEN is cried out for you.
AMEN, the name given to you.
Borne on Good Friday,
she came home on Easter.
God bless that little heart,
she was blessed from the very start.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC