Friday, April 4, 2025

"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
  

Thursday, April 3, 2025

"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

Wednesday, April 2, 2025

"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

 

 

 

Tuesday, March 25, 2025

"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

 

                       

Monday, March 24, 2025

"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