"Cold Feet"

  

 

Notoriously chill
My blocks of unfriendly ice
Make me wonder if I’m ill
With toes that I cover twice
One layer of cozy socks
Must always adorn my feet
Or those frosty digits shock
Anyone that I may meet
I know that their artic feel
Make me seem detached and cold
But that image isn’t real
Kindness guides me to be bold
Overlook my need for heat
And value me for my deeds
I will jump in with both feet
To help you with your needs
 

  

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Endangered"

behemoth fossil fuel guzzlers
pitted against efficiency
threatened by diversity
weakened by equality
petrified by inclusion
they worship their perfect world
white males, subservient females
power through intimidation
power through manipulation
power through deceit
their lies pile upon each other
thicken their hides with false security
they are terrified rhinos
dangerous in their fears
excluded by a changing world
endangered

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

 

"The Enemy Without"

  

my bliss

begins with rusted rake, scarred shovel

continues with ancient clippers that snap winter’s residue

pulses with knees planted to ground

thrives with bulbs separated, clippings rooted

grows with tipsy walls reset with careful hands

pushes skyward with dew dusted blades

my bliss

conquers the enemy without with patience

soothes with dappled sunlight

transforms death with restoration

mornings blend into afternoons

days meld into weeks

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"April's Fool"

   

I kneel in awe each spring 

 Worshiping nature’s rebirth 

Stomach flattening to Earth’s coolness 

My lens captures the first blush of blossoms 

The constancy of nature 

Makes me an April’s Fool 

Trespassing over field and farm 

 For one perfect shot

Copyright Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 2022

"His Type"

  

In youth, he found a filly

One he bullied into submission

Turning her against herself

Holding her reigns tightly

Until her hooves pounded him into the ground

 

Next, he discovered a stately mare

One he adorned with silver and turquois

Turning her against herself

Grooming her for the family stable

Until her temperament demanded his temperance

 

He searched from stable to stable

One he enticed with his wealth

Turning her against herself

Forcing her to become the lost filly

Until her pride bolted her from his control

 

Now he seeks a steady mount

One he temps with everlasting security

Will he turn her against herself

Commanding her to his will

Until her soul requires nurturing he can’t give

 

February 20, 2023

 

"He Doesn't Like Me"

 

An indestructible bond
Woven together by laughter and tears
Revelations of doubt shared in the hushed pre-dawn hours
Private thoughts and hopes spilled across endless pages
Our friendship strong and true
 
Subtle changes unfolded
Before a single box was packed
Before a vow of faith and love was made
You grew distant and reserved
Still our friendship held strong and true
 
You battled against yourself
Pulling me awake with midnight calls of uncertainty
Our friendship frayed around the edges
The years of sisterhood withstood your demands
Yet our friendship held strong and true
 
Imperceptibly, you excluded me
Letters not answered, phone calls shortened
Visits while our children played ended abruptly
You needed to clean, and cook, and make things perfect
Our friendship weakened by his demands
 
You tucked into yourself
Tightened into a ball so tight I missed your despair
Your silence the only response to my concern
Even after Death ripped through your life
He withheld you from friendship strong and true
 

 

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

"Under Construction"

   

An engineering feat
Endless miles of concrete
Tower in expectation
Growth, growth, growth, growth, growth
Tons of debris dumped behind screens of decency
Profit and progress mangled and molded into prophecy
More is only more
Underneath everything rises the desperate stench of fear
Too much, too little, too late to matter
Under night’s protection push onward and upward
Pretending sustainability is wrapped into the core
Change is good
Until it isn’t 

 

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Pissing Contest"

 

Hard and broken men

Boys encouraged to only win
            even if they cheat
as teens their acid words begin
            wrapped in bold deceit
first wives selected as breeders
            preference for a son
second wives are ego feeders
            to the  Golden One
third wives enhance affluence
            and erase aging fears
not one person can influence
             their lying veneers 
Mamma loves the neediest best
            if he loves her most
her attention is a contest
            won by lying boasts
Daddy hungers for bragging rights
            on their gaudy stuff
he binds his praise to dark, not light
            can there be enough
as adults they hate each other
            and they still compete
to demoralize each brother
            to spoil and defeat
           
 
Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
  

"Umbrella Paradiddle"

 

 

walking in the morning rain
steps confidently secure
not a single fret for pain
morning’s aura warm and pure
thunder threads a distant plane
raindrops offer a soft cure
bold grackles dive into drains
tempted by the water’s lure
paradiddles tap refrains
against my shelter’s contour

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

x

"Be Still"

 

Loss and grief wrap around my spirit
They drag my steps, pull me into silence,
Hone my thoughts down to brittle bits of despair
Loss and grief echo through my dreams
They invade my nights, snap me into vigilance,
Pace with me from room to room
Loss and grief whittle away my heart
They cause my tears, push me into darkness,
Force my days into protective stillness 

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

 

 

"Dental Floss"

  

Cheap dental floss    

—not the desired brand—    
            Frays    
            Leaves strands    
                        trapped    
Frustrated before sunrise    
            I fling the new container aside—    
                        thumping it into the trash    
                        announcing my irritation    
Temper flames my words,     
            “We had an entire conversation about this!”    
Feeling trivialized and minimized
            I cut to make him smaller   
And I braid those fine wax fibers 
            into Porter’s rope  
                        Giving it weight—
                                    Importance
Until 
            my snarling reflection    
            snaps me to The Big Picture 
It is—  
            after all—    
Only dental floss   

 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

                       

"Saying Goodbye"

 

Koi's first night with us-2009

            Our beloved Koi lost his battle a few days ago against kidney disease. No matter how hard I tried to prepare for this loss, heartbreak envelopes me. Entering the house, I glance for him waiting by the window. No one answers my query, “Want to check the mail?” with a mad dash out the door. The wonderful Black Box, which Koi ran to for cheese treats, returns to just being a refrigerator. When I grab a book and say, “Let’s go outside to read” silence greets my words.

            I woke up the first morning and tossed out old leashes that belonged to both Koi and Bridget, who died many years ago. I emptied a drawer in the cabinet that holds urns from other pets to make room for the little white sheet Koi loved to sleep with as a puppy. I placed his brushes into the same area along with his first set of bowls. I tossed out the old leashes that both dogs used along with dog treats and the specialty food Koi never liked.

             This morning, I hand washed all of Koi’s stuffed toys. He loved stuffed animals that made noises when he chewed on them. Sometimes, we’d ask, “Where’s Baby?” and he’s sort through the pile in his basket in search of a koala bear that giggled. These toys will dry in today’s sunshine. I’ll pack them away in a bin along with a few other items that belonged to Koi.

            Koi’s beautiful spirit graced our family for sixteen years, like all of our pets over the years. Koi will be our final pet. 

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

           

     

“Within My Reach”

 

            Each day, I watch friends, acquaintances, and strangers tirelessly work against the administration and its goal to destroy the foundations of our federal government. I diligently read Heather Cox Richardson’s letter, listen to both Senator Bernie Sanders and Senator Elizabeth Warren every time they stand up for our rights. I hold onto our young representatives like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Jasmine Crockett who relentlessly honor their Congressional duties. I know there are concrete, real-time steps I should take to resist the devastating lies sprouting from every person within this coup.

            But . . . right now all I can handle is grief, loss, and worry within my immediate family. My brother’s dodging of a visit to his home revealed his growing inability to live alone. The coping strategies he’s used his entire life to compensate for his learning disorder has devolved into a rigid, step-by-step routine that shows his inability to problem solve unexpected situations. A light bulb going out translates into eventual darkness in every room of his home. The bolt to his toilet stripped making it wobble in place, and thus breaking the seal ring and making the room unsanitary. That same bathroom grew mildew up the shower tiles and into the old caulk. His bedroom had one wall three feet high of clean clothes needing to be hung or folded while dirty laundry took over a section of his garage. Coins cluttered every piece of furniture and sprinkled on the floors of every room. His vacuum, which he thought was broken, had something blocking the hose. An easy, quick repair by us, but something he couldn’t solve on his own. He resisted mentioning that the engine warning light had appeared on his dashboard a few days before our visit. One catalytic converter later, and an unexpected hit to our credit card, means he’s back on the road again. When only cold water came from the faucets, we added a defunct hot water heater to the repair list. He reluctantly admitted that he’s been using cold water only for a year.

            So focused on all of the things wrong, I missed the important news my brother repeated like a litany over and over again. “I called the air conditioner man and had the thermostat replaced because the house was hot. I did it on my own. I paid for it on my own, not with the emergency account.” He told me this the moment I entered his darkened home. He repeated it during dinner. His recounted it again as I tried to organize his bookkeeping for 2025.

            All I needed to do was say, “I’m so proud of you for handling a major problem on your own.” I should have hugged him tightly and thanked him for taking care of such an important problem without even contacting me. All I could see were the dozen things wrong within his home instead of the one thing he’d done alone.

            Before leaving this time, I broached for the first time the fact that he needs to sell the home he’s lived in for almost fifty years and move closer to either my sister or to me. We help him with insurance, property taxes, and repairs. That repair list grows as the house ages: new hot water heater, new roof, new bathroom tub and tile . . . That’s all I noted within our twenty-four hour visit.

            As the bigger world around me moves on a destructive path, I’m allowing myself the luxury of letting others step in with letters, phone calls, town halls and resistance. Right now, all I can care for will be the people within my reach.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

 

                  

“Susie”

Suise, James and Heather 1981

            When I met Susie, forty-seven years ago, her teenager heart saw no one but my future brother-in-law, James. Her eyes followed his every move. She draped herself onto his lap, latching onto him with the purity of young devotion. She attached her life to his goals to be an Air Force pilot, never longing for anything more than the role of wife and mother. The books she read covered with Fabio’s muscled chest, contained characters she longed to imitate. Conversations with her revolved around how James would take care of her for the rest of her life.

            My practical nature cringed whenever I knew Susie and I would be alone, forcing us to talk about her limited hopes and dreams that couldn’t be separated from James’s needs. I reminded myself those first few months that she would soon be a relative that I’d see frequently. We needed to find common ground, but her unplanned pregnancy, total dependency upon my in-laws for financial support, and unwillingness to even look for a part-time job, allowed me to slip into a critical judgement that I later regretted.

            Wherever they lived, I wrote Susie long letters talking about my teaching slots and the authors I liked. She was open to reading new things, and soon we’d exchange books whenever they visited my in-laws. Although their first two children were older than our son by three and six years, their third child trailed ours by fifteen months. My letters, sent within packages of baby clothing and toys for the kids, included paperback novels for Susie, too. I think we both worked hard to find common ground during the first years of becoming Chapmans. When James decided to leave the Air Force, he didn’t tell Susie about his choice. Suddenly, their family of six resided with my in-laws again, where tension and tempers simmered just under boiling almost all the time. For the first time in her life, Susie stopped her unnatural worship of her husband and their relationship never returned to the adoration James needed daily.

            During these troubled years, Susie and I talked often while our kids played together. When James decided to buy a home, they found one walking distance from our house. And then, four months later, he left her and their kids for an older woman. Susie’s grief mixed with anger, spilled into late night phone calls that left me with only a couple of hours of sleep before heading to work. Their brief round of counseling as a couple turned into more appointments for her, and her mantra became “He’ll wake up one day and realize he wants us back.” Instead, James distanced himself from the kids as well as Susie, often canceling out at the last minute on visits with them.

            Eventually, Susie’s mother and siblings helped her go to school to be certified as a massage therapist. Having a job didn’t fill Susie’s loneliness, but it built her confidence. During these years, I’d walk over to Susie’s house to visit. Our kids drifted between the two homes on foot, riding bicycles, or on skateboards. There were sleepovers, birthday celebrations, and a lifetime bond not just between the kids, but also with Susie and me.

            When she remarried, I saw her less. Her new husband came with three young adult children and an open door policy that meant a huge family gathering every Sunday. We still talked books and kids, sometimes heading for a walk around the neighborhood, but our visits became less frequent. My years as Mom’s caregiver meant Susie swung by here. She gave Mom massages, treated me out to Starbucks, and made certain I got away from the house every couple of months. We eased into a wonderful, comfortable friendship that meant weeks could pass without a call, text, or visit without feeling guilty. Whenever we connected, we’d talk about books, adult kids, ailing parents, and whatever movies she’d seen with her repeating dialogue for me. When COVID-19 took her second husband, she relied upon their children and grandchildren to work through her loss, with her next door neighbor filling her life again.

            Right before Christmas, I stopped by Susie’s home while on my morning walk. We sat outside, in her back yard. We talked about kids, her grandchildren, her new beau, and the latest authors we’d discovered. We promised to get together after the holidays for lunch and a longer, more relaxed chat as I needed to finish my trek up the steepest hill in our neighborhood.

            That casual promise to get together soon didn’t happen. A hemorrhagic stroke blindsided all of us, leaving Susie hospitalized with emergency surgery. Her children and siblings stayed with her, and her daughters let us know when we should visit. I chatted with her about our kids and books, and teased that she needed to recover so she could treat me to Starbucks one more time.  

Susie and me 2015

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

             

 

"Springtime in Texas"

 

            If I could, I’d pause this time of year and let it linger for month after month. The cooler nights mean I slide my windows open and slumber with scents of honeysuckle and rose. My air conditioner stands silent and still as soft breezes waft into each room. Outside, a polarized filter refines leaves, deepens the sky to cerulean, and cuts daylight and shadow into razor-sharp relief. A trip down any road takes me to fields of wildflowers, a photographer’s paradise. Point and shoot. Perfect moments stretch out eternally. 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Spring 2015

Spring 2015

Spring 2015

Spring 2015

Spring 2015

"The Play"

  

ACT ONE              

            She lightens her brown hair        

                        He prefers blondes        

            She leaves family, drops friends      

                        He wants her to himself        

            She quits schools, leaves her job        

                        He cheats and she forgives        

ACT TWO         

 

            He demands exact replicas        

                        She produces an heir and a spare        

            He expects superiority        

                        She learns deceit and lies        

            He builds and buys a lifestyle        

                        She numbs herself with wine        

ACT THREE        

            A mansion filled with regrets        

                        Their marriage is a glossy veneer        

            Time spent in sun and sand       

                        Their love becomes a mirage        

            A picture of perfection       

                        Photoshop over Truth        

 

Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Dandelion"

   

 
 

A waif whispers incantations 

her breath pftts pftts 

against the blowball 

Tufts float free  

The seeds of beginnings   

Sacred blessings 

Cradled by Tranquility   

 

Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman