Swing In A Tree: 2023-03-26

Saturday, April 1, 2023

"Chimpanzees and Stardust"

Walden Pond in November www.trekearth.com

Drifting for a week down the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
I trailed my fingers in Civil Disobedience,
lingered a month on the banks of Walden Pond
just long enough to transcend
from awkward adolescent into endless possibilities.
I happened upon Patterson and Fouts,
fingers dancing into primate thinking,
and my enchantment with
Words, Mind and Spirit
coalesced.
My heroes slept under star-strewn skies,
witnesses
of Nature and Life,
Tools and Language,
Thought and Reason
diligently uncovering commonalities.
Observers
who took me from the pond’s edge
Through Gombe
Until I found my place in the Universe.

Roger Fouts
www.misitprodictions. com

Jane Goodall
www.ngm.nationalgeographic.com

www.universetoday.com

"The Corner of my Eye"

"Star of Wisdom" by David Chapman

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a laughing ghost
she morphs into my fancies

as she alters my reality

I sigh her name and capture her hand—

but she vanishes into the mist of who I was

so I release her when she smiles

recognizing myself reflected in her twinkling eyes

"Dragon" by David Chapman

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a noble dragon

she sparkles with childhood jewels

as she flies into view

I reach out to touch her, to skip my fingers across her scales

but she slips out of reach

as she beckons me to follow her flight

back to simple pleasures

"Fairy Flute" by David Chapman

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a dancing fairy

she glimmers with tomorrow’s blessings

as she throws a kiss my way

I long to turn my head and follow her as I boogie along

but she’ll vanish from sight

so I let her tease me and entrance me all day

listening for her breath and the whisper of her wings

Friday, March 31, 2023

"Baring Gifts"

She’s Marie Barone—on steroids

baring gifts of guilt

wrapped in gilded foil

dripping honeyed compliments

sprinkled with ground glass

leaving you bleeding on the inside

With a smile she blames you for her cruelty

twisting her tales

defending her intrusions

she belittles you as she praises you

tearing you down to control you

with gossip she snatches away your privacy

claiming she only acts with love

Lock your doors

Don’t let her in

"Is it Real?

is it real?
the glowing smile in every photograph
the arms thrown casually around your husband
frame after frame
the friendliness you casually offer to everyone
the show of happiness you radiate in public

is it real?

the vanilla personality that never offends
the perfect hair, make-up, and outfit
the gym toned body that defies gravity
the soccer Mom carpool

is it real?
the eyes that don’t shed tears of grief
the temper that won’t explode
the heart that can’t break
the cool reflective surface that never ripples in a breeze

is it real?
the excuses for his infidelities
the acceptance of abuse
the tolerance for his cruel and belittling words
the immaculate life with no imperfections
is it real?

"Defense Mechanisms"

David Chapman-artist

Defend and Protect at all costs
bury unpleasant thoughts and feelings under, down, below
refuse to accept reality
deny, deny, deny
change existence and rewrite your life
fabricate your lies until they morph into your new reality
regress or act out
childishly punch the wall of your frustration
disconnect from your follies
forget, forget, forget
place each dissonant thought into a strongbox
locked away even from yourself
project your pettiness and bitterness onto the wholesome
react in opposition with your infantile impulses
blockade your imperfections behind fantasy
beat your spouse, kick the dog—never harm yourself
Defend and Protect at all costs

"His Easy Smile"

They believed his easy smile
the laughter at all the right places
while he cloaked his deception through necessity
as the world within him clung to distortions
Illness subtly ate at his reason
making it impossible to disguise the turmoil within
unless he buried it under the things he loved:
games, computers, politics, religion
Intellect guided him to delude
to use his words to hide his thoughts
Need shepherded him to security
safety with the familiar:
church and keyboard, childhood ritual and digital certainty
where he shared with his surrogates
the Truths he let them see
Security in his world narrowed down
into a box of silent despair
broken only by the words, “I love you”

"Mother's Clone"

cradled gently in her arms

Mother bends her head close to Child

her finger feathers the pure smooth cheek

her hair becomes a sheltering shield

protecting them from prying eyes

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe

one without the womb

Mother’s eyes mist as Child’s hair darkens

her mouth becomes a rigid line

when bluish eyes turn brown

her voice takes on ice

when others note differences

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe

one without the womb

Mother’s heart hardens

her Child wields her wayward will

with terrible temper tantrums

fists and teeth and legs fighting

struggling against Mother’s programming

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe

one without the womb

desperation drives Mother’s dissatisfaction

she tethers Child with demands

her fears feed phobias and fictional afflictions

her disappointment distorts her love

her rejection rips through Child

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe

one without the womb

Mother and Child stab and wound

pushing and pulling in tangled bindings

never severing the umbilical cord

they dance in macabre madness

enmeshed and ensnared within their love-hate trap

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe

one without the womb

Thursday, March 30, 2023

"Daughter-in-law"

Independent and intelligent
she offers him unlimited love—no strings attached
she has no hidden agenda
she’s guileless as she wades into the water
unaware of currents that will toss her aside or pull her under
instinctively, she fights against the undertow
taps into her endless energy as she swims toward the farthest shore
drawing him with her in her wake
offering him firmer footing on the opposite bank
Resourceful and resolute
she opens her heart to him—believes in him
she focuses on their life together
she’s naïve as they begin to build a bridge
believing they’ll be met half way, linking and reconnecting
but flash flooding upstream destroys their efforts
ripping away the incomplete structure, tearing away their progress
sapping her strength and snapping his ties
they cling together on the distant shore
Unwavering and understanding
she stands with him—unites her life with his
she trusts his constancy
she’s accepting of his assurances of calmer water ahead
hope persuades her to test the river again
but rapids downstream leave her cut and bruised
cultivating a cynical disbelief in ever reaching the other side
withdrawing protectively back to the river’s edge, she stands
turning her back to the other shore forever

"Heart of Stone"

The promise of forever died
with a single call from you.
Seems no matter how hard I tried,
there was nothing I could do.
Our clumsy steps fell out of sync
before the dance had ended.
I could only stare and blink
when you felt so offended.
I know my feelings grew too fast,
that I scared you with my plans.
You did not want our love to last,
to get so quickly out of hand.
I knew from the moment we met
that you could destroy my heart.
My determination was set—
nothing would keep us apart.
I counted on your affection
being equal to my own.
Now I know upon reflection
that your heart is made of stone!

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Ambition"

David Chapman-artist

His ambition

fascinated her—a reflection

of her own drive

for ultimate

control in answering only to

her own wishes.

He drew her in

with his passionate promises

whispered in bed

while her husband

and children slept in innocence

and ignorance.

On moon filled nights

she pledged her bright future to him,

desperately

clinging to him.

Crumbling her disillusionment

within her fist.

Wagering all

against a bid for happiness

with a new life

centered on him.

She counted on his commitment

to her—for them,

to bind old wounds

and invent a life together

without heartache.

Year drifts to year

as her love grows, but his wavers

and then retreats

back to control

of his own life and ambitions.

He abandons

her for himself.

His selfishness now a mirror

for her sorrow.

"Forgiven"

David Chapman-artist

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.

Wednesday, March 29, 2023

"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

Tuesday, March 28, 2023

"Careless Words"

Careless words cast without thought
bristle under my skin
leave me empty
Careless words sucker punch me
demean my life
belittle my dreams
Careless words stated as fact
insult my views
binding me in heartache
Careless words spoken to wound
choke and repress
make me mourn

"Ulterior Motives"

Doubt fills my heart when I hear your words—

excuses offered upon the alter

I no longer believe

Cynicism flows within my bloodstream

my hair prickles on the back of my neck—

warning, warning, warning, warning

Caution

Take care

You promise paradise and salvation—

redemption and forgiveness

for my trespasses

as you sin again and again

Proffering your version of God—

distorted through your visions

You raise your voice in righteousness—

indignant with my humanism

you pray for my soul

You—so callous and uncaring

of all suffering

but your own

"Her Fall"

I held your tiny hand, tugged you away from danger

carried you safely to the other side

I protected you from water’s edge and ocean’s undertow—

the drowning tears of your uncertainties

I watched from the sidelines as you changed—

dwindling into someone I no longer recognized

Now, dismay burdens me,

cements me in place as you scale the precipice

I call out, “Don’t! Turn back! Wait for me!”

as your compulsion drives you higher, higher

I perceive the cracks in your mask

even as you disillusion those who still believe in you

I reach futilely skyward, my feet anchored in place,

unable to halt your ascent over crumbling rock

I try, and try again, to guide you to sure footing

but you ignore my words, indulging in illusions of independence

I weep, a witness to your self-destruction,

as your frailties and obsessions force your fall

Monday, March 27, 2023

“My Favorite Field of Flowers”

Last year, driving under Loop 1604 to head for St. Hedwig, new construction marred the once open farm land. Gas stations and fast food restaurants flanked the exit while signs for a new housing development promised homes starting at $200, 000. The road into the complex and three or four skeletons of large homes hinted that “progress” invaded our treasured rural area. For many springs, we’d take off on Saturday or Sunday mornings for a thirty mile loop from our house through St. Hedwig and over back roads until we circled back to Live Oak. During one of these treks, we discovered a stretch of road with a windmill and an endless field of flowers.

This year, more signs of San Antonio sprawling east scarred the area. My heart hitched a beat or two as our usual route detoured due to construction on I10. The bare-boned houses from last year now stretched to the right in multiple streets of completed homes—all bold, ugly squares that scarred the landscape. I worried that my favorite field of flowers would now be plowed under.

A turn down one road that winded eastward took us to the field and relief flooded my soul. The windmill still stood against the blue morning sky with its flowers a colorful blanket below it. I felt confident that the second wildflower spot, further down the road, would stretch along the lane. No new construction blemished this part of our drive. I don’t know what the future holds, but for now gratefulness fills me that this field of flowers remains untouched.