"Forgive and Forget"

Over time, the walls of self-defense become chinked with wear   
Overgrown by ivy, flowering each spring with climbing roses,     
The origins for brick and mortar fade in memory     
The enemy’s conniving and manipulation forgotten with each passing season     
Over time, the story of the their cruelty mutates     
Into a softer narrative of the human frailty found within their souls  
And the need to forgive and forget their heartless and vindictive natures      
Grows because I must repair my damaged spirit      
Over time, the protective barriers seem superfluous      
My internal longings to belong create false hope      
That “this time” will prove different—better      
That somehow they’ve gentled with time      
Foolish me—to pull down the walls, to retell the tale        
To desire their love    
Foolish me—to provide them opportunity, to crush me     
Under the weight of my forgiveness

      
Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman   

"Don't Tickle the Dragon"

The Dragon Slayer by David Chapman

She soars above river and ravine in magnificence

while despair and fear play hide-n-seek with her smoky shadow.

With penetrating eyes, she seeks and destroys all defiance.

She melts lives with fiery breath and renders fair fields fallow.

Her arbitrary death paralyzes her innocent prey

by syphoning hope from their simple souls one-drop-at-a-time.

Her teeth and claws razor flesh leaving misery and dismay

As she devours their life-blood—without reason, without rhyme.

On bended knee, mankind prays to the ancient gods for relief

And many brave souls with sword and shield challenge her to the death.

Enflamed by anger, she slays them all—fueled on by pagan belief.

All hope becomes lost to young and old—all fear her scorching breath.

Offerings of their children temporarily satiate her greed,

‘til the young princess stands by lakeside awaiting destiny.

A Christian knight from lands unknown approaches on steady steed.

He vows to slay the beast if all pledge to Christianity.

His lance pierces the dragon’s thick hide with a near fatal blow;

with the princess’s girdle, he leads the creature from the lake.

With Ascalon, he impales the dragon—watches her blood flow.

The people cheer, the king sings praise, and an alter he does make.

From the alter spouts water pure, curing all ailments that grow.

The villagers gather ‘round each eve to dance and sing again

of lessons learned from valley to peak that all children should know—

“Don’t play with fire. Don’t pee in the wind. Don’t tickle the dragon!”

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"He Wasn't Cruel"

  

He wasn’t cruel—

         But he owned her

Possessed her body

         (not her soul-for she had none)

She was a toy for his whims

         A reward dangled before his sons

He demeaned her through his subjugation

         Degraded her

                  Kept her impotent and isolated

Took her hope and sold it to the highest bidder

He wasn’t cruel—

         But he denied her the power of choice

Stripped her to the bones of despair

         Controlled her mind

                  Consumed her life

Yes,

         He wasn’t cruel

Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Don't Tickle the Dragon"

 

The Dragon Slayer by David Chapman

She soars above river and ravine in magnificence

while despair and fear play hide-n-seek with her smoky shadow.

With penetrating eyes, she seeks and destroys all defiance.

She melts lives with fiery breath and renders fair fields fallow.

Her arbitrary death paralyzes her innocent prey

by syphoning hope from their simple souls one-drop-at-a-time.

Her teeth and claws razor flesh leaving misery and dismay

As she devours their life-blood—without reason, without rhyme.

On bended knee, mankind prays to the ancient gods for relief

And many brave souls with sword and shield challenge her to the death.

Enflamed by anger, she slays them all—fueled on by pagan belief.

All hope becomes lost to young and old—all fear her scorching breath.

Offerings of their children temporarily satiate her greed,

‘til the young princess stands by lakeside awaiting destiny.

A Christian knight from lands unknown approaches on steady steed.

He vows to slay the beast if all pledge to Christianity.

His lance pierces the dragon’s thick hide with a near fatal blow;

with the princess’s girdle, he leads the creature from the lake.

With Ascalon, he impales the dragon—watches her blood flow.

The people cheer, the king sings praise, and an alter he does make.

From the alter spouts water pure, curing all ailments that grow.

The villagers gather ‘round each eve to dance and sing again

of lessons learned from valley to peak that all children should know—

“Don’t play with fire. Don’t pee in the wind. Don’t tickle the dragon!”

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman