jazz notes in the dark
send me back to memories—
when our world was newone more kiss…one last caress
’til eternity with you
Copyright © 2021•07•19, by Liz Bennefeld.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 367 NOTE and Send.
The image at the top of the page is by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
light caught in a cup
the glow of tulip petals
at the sunbeam’s end
Copyright © 2021-03-24, by Lizl Bennefeld.
rivers of fall winds…
sounds of animated leaves
rustling in the flow
thistles and milkweed flowers
set loose clouds of seeds to soar
Copyright © 2020-10-14, by Lizl Bennefeld.
setting out to play
in the midst of April’s rain
muddy paws and coldhurry inside where it’s warm
towels, baths, warm food, and hugs
[tanka.] Copyright © 2020-04-01, by Lizl Bennefeld.
All rights reserved.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #289 Dream&March
I dream of springtime—
the end of March…the melting
of winter’s cold heartsoon I’ll rescue May beetles
and take long walks in the park
Copyright © 2020-01-20, Lizl Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
Inspiration for today’s poem: For some reason, all of our cocker spaniels, beginning with Ladd, have hunted down May beetles/June bugs, thinking them to be some sort of toys. Forever having to rescue the poor things from the backsteps lights and being batted about by puppy paws. Ladd also liked to catch crickets in his mouth and wonder at their bouncing around on his tongue; at least he let them go…or lost them, when he spit them out to stare at them.
“Reaching Together for the Sky”
I believe there comes a time—
wakening from doze or sleep—
when mind and body listen
to each other, and
betweenone breath
and
the nextthe mind hesitates,
then says, No more
and the body says,
No more…
and neither
takes that one last breath
“Reaching Together for the Sky”. Copyright © 2017-10-14, by Elizabeth W. (Lizl) Bennefeld.
“Red Leaf, Fallen”
when one leaves home,
like the last red leaf released
from a winter treethe letting go, so inevitable,
and their lives go on
to return to old habits
former thoughtsat last forgetting
as totally as doesn’t
matter to anyone elsebut the red leaf
stepped on, mouldy,
wonderingwhy they didn’t …
why one didn’t try
to hang on tighter to
that place of birththat in-place exile
where the red expandedand the anchors broke
Copyright © 2016-09-28, by Lizl Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
Written in response to the prompt: Red.
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #228 Future/Hope
squirrels are putting by
autumn’s seeds for future meals
spring’s hopeful promise
Copyright © 2018-11-19, by Lizl Bennefeld.
My father put out suet and seeds for the birds and squirrels that made their home in our back yard, shaded by close to a dozen old cottonwood trees, a newer maple, and a hedge of tall lilac trees with purple flowers at springtime, a hedge along the north and west sides of the double lot. One of my brothers now lives there with his wife, where his children and their children gather.
I wrote a poem related to this photograph in 2000, republished in a blog post titled “Going Home” in 2015. The squirrels would also climb up the screen windows looking in on our breakfast table, impatient for us to finish eating, at which time Dad would feed them the leftover pancakes on the back porch.
#RonovanWrites #Haiku #Weekly #Challenge no 220: He and She.
Remembering our Parents
he and she loved each
other and the whole wide world
and taught us the samethat flowers and people grow, all
in colors of God’s love
Copyright © 2018-09-26, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Remembering my mother and father, who also inspired this poem, written for them in 1987:
“Born of Love”
written for my parents
You taught me how to stand apart,
to understand and be myself.
You gave me the courage to walk alone
when none would join me.
You showed me how to look through words
into the worlds that others live in.
You taught me how to listen
with my heart and dare to make
no judgments
but those born of love.
Copyright © Christmas 1987, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
After their deaths, 103 days apart at ages 94 and 100, the poem, which had been framed, came back to me with other keepsakes from their home.
It never gets easier. The losses feel closer. The sounds of footsteps approaching…walking past.
battered by wind
petals soaked by morning’s dew
sunlight’s warm kiss
Copyright © 2018-07-29, by Lizl Bennefeld.
low clouds and mist
fragile flowers gently riffled
by morning’s wind
Copyright © 2018-07-26, by Lizl Bennefeld.
after rain
my world hung upside down in tiny raindrops
Copyright © 2018-07-20, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Written in response to the 207th Ronovan Writes Haiku weekly writing challenge.
listen, human race
altruism equals survival
all else is deathsafety for the children…
and long lives for the old
Copyright © 2018-06-25, by Lizl Bennefeld.
no history
fires made of letters that I’ll never read again
Copyright © 2018/06/24, by E.W. Bennefeld.
no correspondence …
Full post at: No Rereads, Nothing More (The Written Word/Quiet Spaces Blog)
me and father
we bonded over fish and favorite booksfirst memories last longest
gone away…not forgotten
Copyright © Father’s Day 2018, by Lizl Bennefeld.
One of my brother Tim’s posts about the growing-up years. I find myself coming back to it often.
Lizl
-~^~-
I wrote most of my essay about Dad years ago and the words came easily to me. In contrast, I have put off writing about my mother because it has been much more difficult to give shape to my thought…
Source: Memories of Hawley – My Mother
Our mother’s WP site is here: Rhoda’s Web Site: Quilts, Genealogy, and Family.
angry clouds afire
thunder booms across the sky
swift winds carry rain
Copyright © 2018-05-07, by Lizl Bennefeld.
RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge for 7 May 2018: #200 Ire & Fire.
who I am
cannot be cured…
these are not my
flawsthey are the essence
of me — not
a mistakerather,
purposefully
planned
prepared
and placed
Copyright © 2018-02-20, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Click on the photo for the complete picture.
Eph. 2:10
who are these people
that I never really knew
being wrapped in selfall that remains…memories
in only two dimensions
Copyright © 2018-02-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Pingback: #RonovanWrites #Haiku weekly prompt no. 184 – Press and Touch
touch of freezing fog
against the window panes
press of howling windsthe search in morning’s darkness
for night’s discarded blankets
Copyright © 2018-01-15, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Looking forward to a beautiful day!
brilliant on the snow
morning light on ice crystals
rainbow cacophony
Copyright © 2018-01-09, by Lizl Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
WP Daily Post Prompt: Brilliant.
And I seem to have caught the WP daily post prompt for today. Huh!
“your smile”
what were those hours and minutes
when measured against decades
of a long life well and fully lived?a smile, briefly known and always loved,
the joy of songs and sighs and laughter
faded now in the vacuum left behind,
short-lived breeze that warmed,
then cooled againthe absence of your touch…
your lips remembered always
as soft whispers on my neck
Copyright © 2016-08-21, by Lizl Bennefeld.
I remember our first poetry-writing assignment; it was in fifth grade, the same year we took the Iowa Basic Skills test in our elementary school. I just uncovered a paper copy in a stack of papers in my filing cabinet. I’d found one early on and put it up on my SFF Net site, but lost track of both digital and paper copies until just last night.
Our town librarian, when she discovered that I liked science fiction novels, made sure that I got a look at every one that came into our village library. The Stars Are Ours had quite an impact on me. There was a sequel by Andre Norton in my future, and I enjoyed that book, too.
“Best Friends”
Bunny, did you knock upon
the door at five A.M.
hoping that Samantha would
come out to play, again?The door I did not open,
though the kitchen lights were on.
I let Samantha sleep and dream
fond dreams of you and summer’s fun.You wake up all the neighborhood
when you two join in play.
She hounds you through the yard
and through the back fence, she will bay.And then I grab my trusty shawl
and hunt around for shoes
and wonder what the neighbors think
of all the noise…the two of you!
“Best Friends”. Copyright © 2016-01-12,
by Lizl Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
“Mouse Dreams”
Beneath the covers
of snow and multicolored
leaves, mice dream warm dreams.
Grasses form their beds,
gathered on thick mattresses:
sweet, late-summer seeds.
In winter colors,
now, the world is white and black…
brown in hope of spring.
Copyright © by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
All rights reserved.
Most field mice don’t make it to their second year of life because of predation, but in protected areas they can live years longer. As in our house, as we were growing up. There were lots of cats in our home, and they came and went as they pleased. And so Mother Cat would go outdoors of an evening, catch a field mouse or house mouse, and bring it inside (with our mother’s cooperation) and down into the basement, where she would gather her kittens around her and teach them how to attack a mouse. Inevitably, some mice were wiser and more skillful at getting away from kittens than the kittens were in catching mice.
And so we had a mouse population long after the last of the cats had died and been buried. I was fortunate not to have personal encounters with them. I did, however, keep pet mice for some years. Mice are nice people. — Lizl
Pingback: RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge #71: Cover&Color
Quilted Poetry 