Saturday, July 16, 2011

“No Reason to Write”

No reason to write  
No trauma to record  
No anxieties to analyze  
No doubts to examine  
No frustrations to vent  
No concerns to synthesize  
No complaints to file  
No reason to write  

Copyright 1999 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Friday, July 15, 2011

“Forgiven”


If I told you you’re forgiven for all the pain you’ve brought me,  
you’d shake your head in doubt and deny your culpability.  
If I absolved you from all the sins you’ve shamelessly committed, 
you’d raise your finger in defiance, with no crimes admitted. 
If I pardoned all the lies you’ve told to keep me in your life, 
you’d smirk haughtily in triumph and continue with your strife. 
If I turn the other cheek to heal from wounds you created, 
you’d laugh wickedly in my face; you’d cruelly be elated. 
If I don’t excuse the injustices you’ve done through the years,  
you’d wrap me within your evil web; you’d bind me with your fears.  

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Thursday, July 14, 2011

“Little Ditty”

Too tired to move, I flop lazily across the bed.
All kinds of silly phrases dance crazily in my head
Today is Thursday, the endless week is almost through.
I can’t wait for Friday, though I can’t figure what I’ll do.
I think I’ll sing a ballad, or dance an Irish jig.
I’ll eat everything in sight, and I’ll make myself a pig.
Maybe I’ll laugh all day like a crazy, batty loon.
Maybe I’ll collapse in bed, and sleep ‘til Saturday noon!

Copyright 1999 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

“Vertigo”


Pre-dawn 
I stir in bed, freeing legs from binding covers and sleeping dogs 
Red digits proclaim 4 AM 
I inhale frustration—wakefulness before sunrise 
Feet to floor, I sit up 
And spin 
Have I entered Dr. Seuss’s world? 
My lopsided room tips me sideways 
Askew and drunken 
I stagger a few steps trying to shake off my slumber 
Caution takes my hand, gentles me back to bed 
Mystified, I try to focus upon the closet doors 
Defiant, they refuse to hold still 
Jumping left, then right, then left again 
I close my eyes 
Willing stillness 
As if, by my determination alone, I’d control my world 
Command the spiraling   
Force it to stop 
But the twirling and swirling continue against my bidding 
Resigned, I retreat into sleep’s protective fortress 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

"Weddings and Funerals”

Best friends   
sharing whispered secrets late into the night   
laughing at inside jokes   
crying at sentimental Hallmark card commercials   
dreaming   
Best friends 
writing voluminous letters across the years   
freezing moments with photographs   
offering comfort and strength 
supporting 
Best friends 
visiting at weddings and funerals 
revealing superficial news 
concealing heartbreak and disappointments 
surviving 
Best friends 
reconnecting despite differences 
creating new laughter 
rediscovering commonalities 
hoping 


Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Monday, July 11, 2011

“A Walk in the Woods”


The woman stood in the sunlight, swiping the beads of sweat that smarted her eyes to tears. Her tongue licked her parched lips. Her hands plucked at her t-shirt, pulling it away from her saturated skin. She puffed hot breath down her shirt front, but only succeeded in hastening the roll of perspiration down her cleavage.
            “You could strip down,” her husband teased from the open doorway as he yanked his own soaked t-shirt over his head. Swiftly, he unfastened his Cargo shorts and stepped clear of them as they pooled on the deck.
            The look she shot his way momentarily heated the air another degree or two, and then a smile broke across her face. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed as she hastily kicked her sandals aside. With an ease her husband admired, she freed herself from t-shirt and shorts. For a moment, she hesitated as her eyes held his in challenge. Then she stripped down to bare skin. She pivoted on the deck, raising her arms in supplication to the hot July sun. Closing her eyes, she whispered an incantation calling for the slightest breeze to tease across her heated skin and dry the moisture that slicked her figure.
            “I think I’ll take a walk in the woods,” she held out her hand to her husband. “Are you coming?”
            He took her hand and swiftly guided her into the cool canopy created by the trees. Once out of direct sunlight, he felt a subtle shift in temperature as shade and shadow played across his skin. A breeze as gentle as a sigh whispered to him, and he grinned crookedly at the cross expression that still played over his wife’s countenance. Bird song encircled them as they moved further down the path, and eventually he sensed the easing of her tension. His muscles relaxed, and he shortened his stride to match her more leisurely pace.
            In silence, they walked hand-in-hand. Carefully, they picked their way over the trail and eased out of the hard work they’d done all day. So many days, they rushed through obligations and responsibilities. Today, at this single moment, they set aside their toils and troubles, stripped away their stress, and took a simple walk in the woods.   


Sunday, July 10, 2011

“Even in the Beginning”


even in the beginning
your smiles never reached your eyes
your innocuous words disguised your intent
as your fear festered into resentment 

even in the beginning
you ignored overtures of friendship
your instinctive defenses kicked into place
as your panic mired you into an abyss of hatred 

even in the beginning
your radar sounded alarms
your battle instincts honed your cruelty
as your protection of family obsessed you
 
even in the beginning
your projections became reality
your denials and lies believable
as you rewrote history to fit your views
 
even in the beginning
your rationalizations rang with sincerity
your bitterness overtaking your soul
as you attacked to annihilate a phantom 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman