“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

“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

“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

“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

"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

“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.   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“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