Thursday, April 30, 2015

"Saturday in the Swing"


Saturday in the swing    
            serenaded with cicada song     
                        and the chuck-chuck-chuck      
                                    of chiding squirrels    
                                                I float    
                                    aimless—and appreciative    
                                                of quiet moments spent swaying    
My dog calls greeting to our neighbor    
            rolling her Rs like that old Ruffles commercial    
                        she’s a sentry    
                                    sniffing out lizards    
A breeze plays with my writing paper    
            dances the words among the shadows    
                        cast from sun and leaves    
                                    making me dizzy in the Texas heat    
A paw taps my knee   
            accompanied by a whine    
                        I’m abandoned    
                                    for central air    
Moisture collects      
            on the back of my neck    
                        on upper lip      
                                    around my hairline     
                                                behind my knees    
I inhale humidity    
            yet I linger    
                        savoring my Saturday in the swing    

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


 

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

"Hidden Feelings"

There are feelings here that can’t be hidden any longer.  
Forever trying to force them down, I find they’re growing stronger. 
Is this a tentative friendship, or the clumsy lover’s dreams?   
Am I experiencing love; is that what this confusion means?   
I’m lonely when you’re gone, and resigned when you are here   
because you’re always far away, even when you’re near.   
I can’t tell where desire ends and where the lovin’ starts.   
Is this what the fairy tales mean when one gives away one’s heart?  
I want to touch you softly, to talk with you and to share.   
I want to say a simple phrase, just “Darlin’ I do care.”   
I'm not asking for eternity; I’m just hoping for one day.    
For I need a chance to show to you the feelings I’ve hidden away. 

Copyright 1977 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

"Missed Opportunities"

you judged me
never listened to my words
never learned of my dreams
never accepted my strength

you excluded me   
never extended an invitation   
never initiated friendship   
never offered belonging   

you hurt me  
never helped without games   
never explained all the rules   
never proposed compromise   


you hardened me   
never allowed for differences    
never acknowledged my wounds   
never tolerated my spirit  


you lost me   
never experienced my humor    
never encouraged my independence
never received my respect  

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

One trick about relationships is keeping them going long enough to foster mutual respect and liking. I often wonder about the "friendship that could have been."

Monday, April 27, 2015

"Golden Son"

Told from the moment of your birth, you’re the Golden Son   
Praised for petty acts and deeds, you’re mother’s Special One   
Worshipped within your family, you learn bold conceit   
Playing games you can’t win, you begin to cheat   
Your skill in charming others often leads to sly lies   
Forcing others to view you through your mama’s eyes   
Cocky and self-centered, you use people in your life   
Manipulating others helps you avoid strife   
Adultery entices you, it’s part of your game   
Interchangeable parts—all women are the same   
Unhappiness follows your steps, even when you run   
You can’t help the hearts you break, you’re the Golden Son   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

Sunday, April 26, 2015

"First Draft"

words      
scratched out  
circled   
jotted to the side    
in the margins    
illusive thoughts    
vanishing    
into mists    
never taking form   
mistakes    
creating   
transforming      
white noise   
into harmony    



Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman