“Cartoons with Lunch"

 

 

Thirty minutes to consume
 Frozen pizza, peanut butter and jelly
Thirty minutes to revisit
Childhood companions
Thirty minutes to escape
By joining the Justice League
Thirty minutes to choose
The nonsense of Looney Tunes
Thirty minutes to laugh
Until you cry

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

 

"The Readers"

Words shared across time   

in lazy hammocks under a cloudless sky   

reclining upon overstuffed divans cocooned in golden silk   

perching on table’s edge
walled by leather bound volumes heavy with musk   

lounging under tree branches as shadows dance across the page   

wind’s breath kissing pursed lips   

lost in a crowded room   

standing in solitude   

drifting away from prim daily obligations while haloed in sunshine   

drenched in orange blossoms   

absorbing thoughts and ideals   

whispered dreams   

escaping into ancient worlds or a lover’s arms   

imagining a future sublime

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
  

A Lady Reading
a Book
in a
Library
Interior

Thomas Jakob
Richter, 1879

A Love Story
Emanuel Phillps Fox, 1903

A Woman Reading
Antonio Rizi, 1896

At Home
Juilus Lebalnc Steward, 1897

Dans la Bibliotheque
Auguste Toulmouche,
1872

Easter
Joseph Christian Leyendeker, 1905

Girl Reading or A Fair Student
Charles Edward Peerugini 1878

Morning Sun
Harold Knight, 1913

My Eldest Daughter, Suzanne with Milk and Book
Carl Larsson, 1904

Peaceful Reading
Fernand Toussaint (1873-1955)

Reading by the Morning Light
Karl Vilhelm Holsoe

Woman Reading on a Settee
William Worchester Churchill,
between 1905 and 1910

The Letter
Jan van Beers, 1885

"Divide Time"

 divide time into before and after
measure lonely hours by tears and laughter
remember the freedom of hot desire
long for winter nights stretched by the fire
listen for rescuing rings of the phone
wait through the days and nights all alone
scream in silent despair and frustration
bury new needs in cold desperation
beg daily for help, no one heeds the plea
search for escape—for a safe place to flee
divide time into before and after
measure lonely hours by tears and laughter

David Chapman-artist

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Run Silent”

 

            In the past, my need to fill the page whenever tragedy struck either close to home or in distant locations meant my thoughts on everything turned up in my blog. Then the January 6^th attack on the United States Capitol broke something in me. COVID-19 exploded in the homes of both family and friends, and I only recorded its impact in my personal journal, with no desire to blog again. The vital lifeline blogging provided during Mom’s endless battle with Huntington’s disease became less necessary. I didn’t feel the need to write about the troubles that everyone around me also experienced firsthand.

            On February 24^th, Russia began a brutal attack on Ukraine. I retreated into books and spent massive hours raking leaves and hauling rocks from our back yard to the front. Our television sets normally remain silent during the day, and my preference to read the news over seeing and hearing it means usually our home runs silent for the majority of each day. Yet, this today the news drives my morning, as it has daily since the war began.

            Helplessness accompanies me as I toil in my yards. Spring’s promise of rebirth hides under the leaves. As I clear each area, green draws my eyes to life’s eternal potential. I treasure my safe shelter.

 

Escaping war news

Hauling rocks, raking leaves 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman