"Haiku Experiment"

 

The Experiment
distilling daily dreams—thoughts
one drop at a time

Morning view outside
velvet red upon green stalks
symmetrical rose
July 4

Daily poetry
huge mountains of words to climb
an endless challenge
July 13

Twelve days of poems
forcing creativity
through the sieve of words
July 14

Impatience is gone
vanishing within a smile
the mood shifts again
July 23

Happiness and joy
are acorns planted in fall
and rooted in time
July 27

The poetry helps
by healing my tattered soul
bandaging worries
August 2

Plunge into a book
evade all-consuming thoughts
escape tomorrow
August 3

 Night’s muffled sighs sound
distant humming of autos
gentle songs of sleep
August 5

Today’s words are forced
curbed and restrained emotions
cotton wraps my mind
August 8

Retreat into sleep
play out other worlds and lives
leave yourself behind
August 8

Hold onto sunshine
gently cup it in your hands
optimistic thoughts
August 16

Sleepy Saturday
singing soft lullabies
snoozing silently
September 11

Copyright 1999 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

For a six month period in 1999, I challenged myself to make my journal entries through some form of poetry. Often, the day's events seemed best expressed through haiku. These are just a few entries from my experiment.

“Koi’s OK”

 

            Koi, our Pom-monster, turns fifteen this year. For several years, tracheal collapse challenges him periodically when he wakes up in the mornings and settles down for the nights. Our vet prescribed Hydrocodone to use as needed, but it really knocks Koi out even with a half-dose. During another checkup, the vet suggested using Benadryl instead since we noted that Koi had more flare-ups with different pollen counts. The more risky Hydrocodone became reserved for bad days, and we’ve gone a year without filling his prescription.

            Last August, Koi began wetting the floor and his bed while sleeping. After his physical, our vet started him on Proin-ER that worked immediately. After a few months, the medication became unavailable anywhere, and the regular Proin proved useless. We began relying on soft disposable wraps for Koi’s new attire.

            In February, Koi’s wrap reddened with blood in his urine. As it happened late in the day, it was the next morning before our vet saw him. By that time, his wrap was almost clear, but even I could see that there was blood in the clear catch urine sample when the vet showed me the test tube. Drawing blood samples for more tests happened quickly. Koi didn’t stress when the vet flipped him onto his back to thoroughly palpitate him to check his kidneys and bladder. She felt nothing, and stated maybe the blood tests would show us something. Which they did—NOTHING was wrong!

            The vet explained in a phone conference that Koi could’ve passed a bladder stone. That could mean other stones and the possibility of blockages occurring. The horrifying cancer diagnosis could only be ruled out with tests we couldn’t afford. If he had bladder cancer, treatments extend the four-to-six month prognosis by only a few months. We decided to simply wait and see. If Koi passed more blood in his urine, he’d go back for additional checks. If we noticed changes in his eating, energy, or water intake, we’d bring him back in. If we sensed that he experienced any pain, we’d schedule an emergency visit.

            Yesterday, Koi’s regular annual appointment found us back at the vet for his shots. Over the last four months, not a single drop of blood in his urine. Not a sign of any tumors. Koi let the vet push and prod without complaint. Our February scare must have been a single bladder stone passed into his past!  

 

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Transactional Love”

 
 

A matriarch
Dead eyes behind false smiles
With hugs that suffocate
She demands reciprocity
Mother’s love contains conditions
Which child adores her?
Places her above all
Kneels before her in supplication
Begging for love  
 

A patriarch

Cold heart behind deceitful charm
With praise that stabs
He commands compliance
Father’s love requires accomplishments
Which child shines brightest?
Gives him parental status
Rises before him with conceit
Pleading for attention 

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Zeros and Ones”

            Conversations lately dive into “what if” the economy gets hacked. What if all of those “ones” become “zeros” with accounts wiped clean? At the moment, I have $3.00 and a handful of quarters in my purse. Trusting that our system works, and that no criminal mind or terrorist group will implode our financial system, means there’s a cross of faith I wear daily.

            Would the people who always have “ones” step forward to care for those who have nothing? Would estranged families reunite to stand together?  Would the best each of us has to offer spring forth in collaboration with neighbor helping neighbor? Would our communities, towns or cities share resources freely? Would state and national governments pull together, providing food, shelter and safety for each citizen?

            What will be the crisis response if more than towers go down?
            I believe those of us who can will share and care.
            I believe in unity.
            I believe in cooperation.
            I believe in decency.

            I believe in sunrises.    

       

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"A Snapshot"

 

           

            Moments of time stay frozen in my mind, like snapshots of my past. These moments weave together and create a blanket that I often pull out and in which I wrap myself. Small pieces of time, where I felt special as a child, a sibling, a wife, and a mother, make up this cloth. Some memories stay with me sharply, making me aware of how important life’s moments become.

           If I close my eyes and I inhale deeply, I can slip back to an earlier time. I can still catch the sharp, cutting scent of salt and brine as I opened the car door and let Galveston’s aromas enter my world. Gray waves battered against the sea wall’s granite, and sea gulls cried, “Feed me! Feed me!” as they swooped about our heads.
           Eagerly, I pulled Paul from his car seat, his teddy bear body warm in my embrace. He squirmed, twisting away from me, reaching for Poppy’s eager arms. My dad swung Paul onto his shoulders and headed toward the beach with David and me trailing behind.
           Ahead of us, I watched Poppy swing Paul to the hot sand, whip off the child’s sandals, and laugh deeply as Paul whooped with delighted glee. I quickly took off my own shoes, David mirrored me, and we felt the sun scorched sand grate against our feet. Paul hopped from foot to foot, skipping to the water’s edge to let the undulating waves softly stroke his burning toes. He dashed up and down the water’s edge and gloried in the wonder of salty sea wind, cool water, and rough sand. His small legs carried him back and forth into the waves and onto the sand. With wonder in his eyes, he turned to Poppy. 
     Poppy bent to his grandson, pointed at a pile of sea weed. The two watched in amazement as crabs scuttled from the mesh. Paul’s giggle blended in with the cry of the gulls and the clang of distant ships’ bells.
           I realized the wonderful gift grandfather gave to grandson: wind, sand, seaweed and ocean. A world beyond the backyard and the pond at home. A world filled with wonder. At that moment, I knew just how special my role as parent made me. Mother’s give their children more than hugs and kisses each morning and lull-a-byes each night.
           In an instant, I saw how special my role would make me. I joined Poppy and Paul in a twirling, swirling dance in and out of the waves. As dusk fell, I held Paul’s small, warm hand in mine—making a link to our future.
Copyright 2008 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

All parents carry snapshots of the first time their child experiences some new aspect of our world. These mental photo albums, for me, provide a wonderful source for my writing.