wrap yourself in quiet
put sadness aside
look past pain to joydeep rivers carve their way through stone
falling tears both heal and burn
[micropoem]. Copyright © 2021-04-27, by Liz Bennefeld.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 355 SAD and Thrill
Photo by Alex Williams on Unsplash
cloud banks form a cloak
of somber mourning
rain drops fall as tears
[lune]. Copyright © Lizl Bennefeld, 2021-04-24.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 354 FORM and Mourn.
Photo by John Fowler on Unsplash
lightning branches out
its particles swift to find
short paths to the groundas bolts inflame the treetops
the earth trembles at the sound
Copyright © Lizl Bennefeld, 2021-04-13
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 353 BRANCH and Swift
Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash
never long enough
the days of thought and pondering
nights of dreams…too shortturning hopes into actions
is a lifetime’s work of worth
Copyright © 2020-07-23, by Liz Bennefeld.
Photo by Sylas Boesten on Unsplash.
on frozen ground, dried by spring’s
winds and distant sunlight
photographs of clouds
over oceans I won’t see—
beauty secondhanddried leaves on still-frozen ground
complex designs in my hands
Copyright © 2020-04-08, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Brewer, Day 8: Write a “future” poem.
NaPoWriMo prompt for day 7: Ordinary Objects
Last autumn’s leaves lie on frozen ground
dried by spring winds and
distant sunlight
[haiku.] Copyright © 2020-04-07, by Liz 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.
Prompt: “Take one of your poems and, in three places, insert a parenthetical comment…” I used only this much of the prompt found at Cuyahoga County Public Library website.
late-spring storm
{by now, I shouldn’t feel surprise}
snow on puppy legs…face…tail
{how did he get snow plastered THERE?}
don’t sit in my lap!
{ah, well! there’s towels}
Copyright © 2019-04-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
First published today on my Quiet Spaces Journal: Day 27 Late-Season Snow #NaPoWriMo
Prompt for Day 26: Write 10 one- or two-line poems on one subject, however loosely related to the subject. Put them together, arranging and rearranging, and title them as one poem.
An Everlasting Pause
Only eternity lasts forever
Be still and know
There are many mansions
and the perfect one is set aside for you
Passage of time and distance of place…
all is present in the Now
I cannot conceive of a moment of perfection
that never ends or varies
One thing that puzzles me is whether eternity is
a continuity, an instance of existence, or an object of art
Clarity persists in haunting the mind of the bemused
The eternal Here and Now overlooks the ebb and flow
of distance and time, not counting minutes or the miles
Satisfaction is a state of mind independent
of circumstances or the company we keep
Experiencing the tides of now, the gentle inflow and recession
of being and not being
Hypnotized by sensation and waiting for the feeling
to come again
Lost in the eternal pause between nothing more
and everything
Copyright © 2019-04-26, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Originally published on my Quiet Spaces blog, HERE. I used irregular HTML codes, and so the format may not work, here. Will try to get a graphic representation to link to.
sitting on the hill
leaning back against a tree
waiting for a signso long ago, the trembling
that still echoes through the EarthCopyright © 2019-04-19, by Lizl Bennefeld.
‘An Ode to Anonymity’
I live underwater, away from all
there’s a turn in the river
I’m shadowed by its banksthe river’s in my mind
my mind safely sheltered, here…
here I’ll remain to the end of all time
Copyright © 2019-04-16, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Form: kimo and kimo, reversed
The complete Poem and and a larger version of the photograph (with credit) are on my Quiet Spaces Journal: Day 16 – In Hiding: An Ode to Anonymity #NaPoWriMo
I found myself considering the sadness of leaves and seeds that fall where they can neither decompose nor have the opportunity to germinate and grow. And so, on a (serious) whimsy, I promised the residue on the garage floor that when I was finished with taking their photographs, there, I would gather up them all and return them to the outdoors, where they may decay, or sprout, and live again.
mourning for the leaves on the garage floor
thrown out in new plastic bags
not renewing the soil
Copyright © 2019-04-15, by Lizl Bennefeld.
I used a kimo instead of a haiku for this haibun.
I decided to go back to yesterday’s poetry prompts list and write a poem to go with my favorite grasshopper photograph.
Brewer: “For today’s prompt, pick an insect (any insect), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Praying Mantis,” “Ants,” and “Grasshoppers.” I’ll even except other creepy crawlies, like spiders, slugs, and leeches (shiver). Sorry in advance if this prompt gives you the heebie-jeebies; feel free to use insect repellent in your verse.”
“Grasshopper”
one warm summer day
a debonair grasshopper
dines on a flowerspotting a street photographer
he grins between bites and bows
Copyright © 2018-04-14, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Originally published on The Moments Between blog.
nahaiwrimo:April 26 LEARN
Real life-long learning doesn’t have to be profound or deep or even long-lasting. Doing so keeps us young! While in Boston this last weekend, I learned that I love lobster rolls. I also learned that I love the warm welcoming people I met. Learning something new blesses us all in one way or another and perhaps only in hindsight. Onward!
a water pail
moist dirt between my toes
sunlight’s warmth
after a lingering winter
it’s time to plant flowers
Copyright © 2018-04-26, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Today’s prompt, write a closing time poem.
I had thought there would be more feelings about…more active involvement in the act of my dying. Interaction with this new experience. Not simply waiting in the not-silence, listening to my breath in- and outing…all other sounds too far away. I slip into sleep. When I wake, I listen for the sound of breathing, check to see if it’s really mine. Somewhere along the line, it won’t be, anymore.
solitary room
sounds fade away, approach again
listening for forever
Copyright © 2018-04-30, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Prompt for the day, Cayahoga library: List all the jobs you have had, including volunteer work and other unpaid jobs. Turn the list into a list poem by rearranging, repeating or just titling it. /Or/ write a poem about one of them.
I thought I’d stick to the jobs during grade school and high school, leaving out the gardening chores, since that really was free labor for the common good.
“It’s good for you”
My first jobs, tedious but
character- and muscle-building
picking rocks at springtime
in farmers’ fields
kids’ time is cheaper than repairsFather rented us out by the day
The second summer job lasted
much shorter than it seemed
which was always and forever
clipping grass around stones
mowing the cemetery grounds
setting traps for ground squirrels
who spoiled painstaking work—
lugging pails of well water
to drown the pests or
drive them outShould have stuck with the rock picking
The best job of my childhood
was selling door to door
in a small town every household
finds the need for more stationery
cards for none or all occasions
so their children find buyers, tooPay-off was a week or two
each August far away from home
for private and group lessons,
ensemble, band and choir rehearsalsBrass ensemble work cost extra…
Worth the miles walked to get there
Copyright © 2018-04-24, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
nahaiwrimo prompt for Day 21: PRINT
Bring Your Own Plot
Print has gotten smaller
in books as years go by
and letters crowd the line
with two or more ascenders
where only one should be, and
below the quivering baseline
the descenders stub their toesI do not know what choice to make
to maximize these story times—
read very fast for fleeting joy…
or memorize my favorite lines
to savor when the light fades
and shadows darken allWe will call up treasured stories,
the characters and I, and we
will plot out better endings
in which none of us will die
Copyright © 2018-05-02, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Prompt for Day 19 is from the Cayahoga Library:
An “origin story” is the backstory of how a character became a protagonist or how superheroines (or -heroes) received theirsuperpowers. Write a poem that imagines your backstory as either a poet or a superhero(ine).
The Vicissitudes of Childhood
I learned to talk aloud
by learning how to read
line by line, books read—
two pages, pointing out
each word and saying it,
and when I’d read them back
I’d open up my mouth again…
to eat a bite of baby food
while Mother turned the page
Copyright © 2018-04-21, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Brewer: “For today’s prompt, write a response poem. Respond to whatever helps you get your poem written…”
dry leaves dance above—
leaping higher than treetops
stripped by April windsgreen shoots kissed by dirt and rain
pledge autumn one more harvest
Copyright © 2018-04-29, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
This poem is in response to a poem not from this challenge, but one that I wrote for the 2008 SFPA poetry contest; the theme was “Energy”. The poem’s title is “Future Freedom”. It’s the second poem on this page of my QuiltedPoetry.net blog.
Cuyahoga Library prompt: Cleveland poet Russell Atkins describes a backyard that “has hold/ of the throats/ of trees.” Write a poem that personifies your backyard, or the backyard of someone you know, during a particular season of the year.
like an old grave site
the fenced-in garden bed lies
shadowed by bare limbslast fall’s scattered stalks conceal
shoots of this year’s wildflowers
Copyright © 2018-04-28, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Brewer: For today’s prompt, write a story poem. Think of a story, could be a long, complicated, winding story, but for a poem, it may make more sense to make it a short, direct story.
Sort of a plot summary of a book that I wrote, many years ago, and then put aside. I have no suitable photos to go with it. Comes to mind, again, every once in a while, morphing over…nearly 4 decades.
“Blood to Blood”
Not who he thought, his father,
not he who was seated as chairman
in his grandfather’s boardroom.His true father, not by name, but blood,
one who labored in his mother’s gardens,
holding his hand as he took his first steps,sharing carrots with him from those gardens.
Eating green peas nested in their pods,
they watched koi fish swim among the lilies.As he grew, listening to rain and
painting the colors of the wind,
he came into his heritage and ran.Not a heritage of wealth,
but fear, fleeing to the one
who taught him how to run.
Copyright © 2018-04-28, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
waves beat on the shore
playing footsies with strangers
then slipping awaywind and sand party along
the beach … Catch me if you can!
Copyright © 2018-04-27, by Elizabeth Bennefeld, final version.
Prompt: Ronovan Writes Haiku challenge of 23 April 2018: Beat and Party.
For April 22, I selected this prompt from naprowrimo:
And now for our daily prompt (optional as always). I’ve found this one rather useful in trying to ‘surprise’ myself into writing something I wouldn’t have come up with otherwise. Today, I’d like you to take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens: …” But the phrase that immediately came to mind was “As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us” Psalm 103:12.
As Far As The East Is
the sun rolls along
west is ahead—east, behind
just a glance awayIn bright sunlight, all shadows
are behind me as I face the sun.
Copyright © 2018-04-25, by Elizabeth Bennefeld. [Playing catch-up.]
exuberant raindrops
keep time against the window
until the cloud-breakstreams send water toward the sea
as shadows turn to light
Copyright © 2018-04-30, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Note: Finishing up with the missed/delayed poem postings for #NaPoWriMo2018. Searching for photographs to go with the poems.
Prompt from #RonovanWrites #Haiku – Original post with more photos.
sunlight on his wings
iridescent dragonfly
the joy of his dance
Copyright © 2018-04-17, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
Cuyahoga Library Prompt: ‘Open a dictionary to the letter “m.” Scan until you find the first word you don’t know the meaning of that intrigues you, and then write a poem about that word.’
muskeg meadows
camouflage soft ground that has
no base to stand on
Copyright © 2018-04-13, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
From Wikipedia: “Muskeg consists of dead plants in various states of decomposition (as peat), ranging from fairly intact sphagnum moss, to sedge peat, to highly decomposed humus.” [Article].
Ah, well! Perhaps the other prompts for this day will turn out better.
NaPoWriMo Prompt: “Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of simultaneity, in which multiple things are happening at once.”
geese cry overhead
the dogs sit up and listen
leaves remain silentI would fly like those wild birds
fly to be with you again
Copyright © 2018-04-10, by Lizl Bennefeld.
The prompt for today called for a poem involving one (or more) of the senses. I find that I still miss hearing those voices in the night, singing me to sleep.
“Night Sounds”
in the apartment where I lived
before I married, a quarter century past,
late at night through air ducts
the building sang to me
deep, rumbling chants
basso profondo choirI recall the voices—
vibrations in my bones—
rocking me to sleep
wrapped in
silent
sound
Copyright © 2018-04-07, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Brewer: For today’s prompt, write an intelligence poem. Of course, intelligence is subjective. What is common sense for one person makes no sense to another. But intelligence is more than IQ and test scores. There’s artificial intelligence, intelligent animals, and military intel. And I’ve found that many poets have a special intelligence of their own.
“Specialized Intelligence”
I’m good with words
Ideas flow from my mouth
guiding the bewildered
the puzzled, the lost
Just don’t ask me to repeat
what I said last—I can’t
My mind has moved
into a new channel
The sound of spoken words
often bypasses memory
The words that I gave you
rest only with you, now
Copyright © 2018-04-05, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Prompt for Day 4 from the NaHaiWriMo page on Facebook.
Sleepy dragonfly…
reconsider this day’s world
shifting perspectiveswarmth and rest can set thoughts free
transforming dreams into flightCopyright © 2018-04-04, by Lizl Bennefeld.
life of words
filtered through words
life lived at second hand
a slower pace—indepth
reexamined
contemplated and
reworked
without the words
written out or spoken—
if only heard, repeat them
before they disappear
into the aether—
wordless melodies and rhythms
sensory nonsense songs
not meaningful
without the verbs
subjects and adjectives
caught in imaged
letters upon the mind
retrievable…
sounds are only
empty noise
Copyright © 2018-04-03, by Elizabeth (Lizl) Bennefeld.
Again, a rough draft, I expect.
Lizl
Quilted Poetry 