“Ponytail Triumph”

 

Short and sassy layers stick out everywhere    
Angled bobs frame chin lines with nary a stray hair     
Curls spiral in crowns, bangs fringe a forehead fair    
Waves cascade in thick ribbons, twists rope ‘round with flair   
Yet it's the plain ponytail I most often wear    


Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

 

“Philosophy in the Car”

Hours in a box on wheels   

Could play out soundlessly   

With each of us plugged     

Into our own online world   

Instead   

Music pushes our pulses   

Into unison   

And we philosophize   

About Life   

With a capital “L”    

Our Dreams and Doubts   

Dance on the dashboard   

As we   

Pick apart     

Cognitive dissonance     

With science instead of faith   

And create Peace on Earth     

Time distorts     

Into only the here-and-now   

Or tunnels down into our pasts   

Or spirals outward to What Will Be   

 

Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

 

 

 

 

"When"

When you look into my eyes to see if I’m in pain,

When you reach out at night and smooth my hair,

When you throw back your head and laugh at my small jokes,

When you hold in your anger as I rant and rave,

When you create a song, a poem or a painting,

When you spend time sifting through the sand searching for lost treasure,

When you say nothing about my shortcomings,

When you take my hand as we cross the street,

When you pout because I’ve been too busy,

When you pull me into your imagination,

When you give and take within the course of the day, that is

When I love you.

Copyright 1995 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"To Keats"

With pen touching paper,

I watch the gray shadow float.

What mystery is this—

This writing?

Thoughts of Keats’s imagery

flow through my crowded Mind.

How could he write with such

tingling beauty?

Each metaphor stings with perfection.

Every allusion, Spring water clear—

Fresh, sweet air,

almost the bitter sweetness

of a deep Red Wine.

Can our vineyards produce such a tasteful red?

Could I, or any other wondering

Bard of this century—

Ever create such subtle horizons—

such mystic hues?

No, Romantic as I may be,

there will be no more virile

poesy such as Keats’s

No Grecisms forever alive.

Copyright 1976 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

 

"Silhouette"

reflecting on glossy screen

delving into the mirrored universe

holding onto reality through voyeurism

crawling through a web in search of  just-the-right-word

looking through the window-or

stepping through the doorway

choosing motion over inertia

fearing stillness’s unbearable pain

losing myself within eternal bytes

entrapping my soul within the glass

Copyright 2010 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman