
apothecary roses
Copyright © Lizl Bennefeld, 2021-04-10.
gift beauty to my eyes
and quiet to my soul
Image by Suzanne Catty from Pixabay
apothecary roses
Copyright © Lizl Bennefeld, 2021-04-10.
gift beauty to my eyes
and quiet to my soul
Image by Suzanne Catty from Pixabay
reveling in sunlight
flowers lift up their faces
the Earth laughs
Photo by Norikio Yamamoto on Unsplash
drip
drop
raindrops
spattering
on my windowpane
I still watch for the rainbow sky
“Serenity”
Stillness
Echoes loudly
Rousing the night
Eagerness and
Nostalgia come
In memories …
The passing of the
Years
Acrostic poem, Copyright © 2021-04-07, by Liz Bennefeld.
flowers among
green grass and new snow
a fresh start
Copyright © 2021-04-07, by Liz Bennefeld.
“Easter Basket”
alien eggs
waiting for their hatching…
decades to go
Copyright © 2021-04-07, by Liz Bennefeld.
pollen and butterfly eggs
new generations
promises of
forever
Copyright © 2021-04-07, by Liz Bennefeld.
open faces
looking toward the sun,
the flowers and me
Copyright © 2021-04-07, by Liz Bennefeld.
green grass and tulip flowers
spiderwebs in morning’s dew
migrating birds
lovely day
Copyright © 2021-04-07, by Liz Bennefeld.
branches left unpruned
the bushes at the fence line
soon tangle and die
matters not resolved may end
with no path out of the maze
one leaf on the snow
left behind
by December windssunlight on the leaf
makes a nest
shelter from the storm
[two lune.] Copyright © 2021-04-05, by Liz Bennefeld.
nature transfigured
the familiar wears a mask
streets and highways gone
seek paths to the beginning
restart the world…try again
Copyright © 2021-04-04, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Photo by Peter Oslanec on Unsplash
dry dirt…crumbling leaves
— dreaming of raindrops
dust dims the morning sunlight
— their patter on the water
no clouds in the sky
— rainbow memories
Copyright © 2021-04-03, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Image by David Mark from Pixabayquivering of float and handline…
fish, tonightmurmur of the stream
the crackling fire
Copyright © 2021-04-02, by Liz Bennefeld.
Photo by Adrian Infernus on UnsplashD
birds gather
on backyard cables
morning news
Copyright © 2021-03-31, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Photo by Hassan Pasha on Unsplashwhat were those hours and minutes
when measured against decades
of a long life well and fully lived?a smile, briefly known and always loved,
the joy of songs and sighs and laughter
faded now in the vacuum left behind,
short-lived breeze that warmed,
then cooled againthe absence of your touch…
your lips remembered always
as soft whispers on my neck
“Your Smile, Remembered.” Copyright © 2016-08-21, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Photo by Saksham Gangwar on Unsplash
winter’s end
watching for springtime
new tulips
Copyright © 2021-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
sentries on alert
crows in the highest branches
sunrise gathering
[haiku]. Copyright © 2021-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
long-neglected bricks
melting ice and acid moss
useless…thrown awaypeople die, cities moulder
all will vanish in the dust
[tanka]. Copyright © 2021-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
unopened books
left to gather dust
or burn for heat
how does one build the future
as all knowledge dies in flames
[tanka]. Copyright © 2021-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
faces and voices
people that I’ll never touch
people whom I lovefeelings never recognized
fill my mind and heart with light
Copyright © 2021-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
bitter winds rage
cold ground beneath my feet
just beyond the door
orange tulips trust the spring
to make way for fragrant flowers
[tanka]. Copyright © 2021-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
cold fog and drizzle
standing water turns to ice
one more cup of teaa distant dog keeps barking
just outside a closed door
Copyright © 2021-03-17, by Lizl Bennefeld.
tulip shoots
covered with spring snow
cold blankets
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
fragile leaves
still cling to their twigs
icy rain
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
autumn grass
covered with new snow
spring thaw
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
sight of morning leaves
with unexpected snowflakes
one more cup of tea
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
spring’s promise
pending due to winds and snow
seed packets
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
haiku sans pictures
no paper, ink, or photos
no haiga today
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
years after her death
i do not write of mother
lest she proof my lines
Copyright © 2021-03-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
daily walk
— smell of rain
flowers nod their heads
— robins call cheer-up
hidden paths
— two rainbows
Copyright © 2021-02-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
The end of a long week. Last weekend and Monday, the first of March, I enjoyed my busy schedule. As I mentioned early last weekend, February is National Haiku Writing Month (nahaiwrimo), and I attended both the Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon haiku poetry readings via Zoom. Between the two sessions, I read seven haiku that I wrote during February 2021. I saw again several poets I know from the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA, lifetime member). I think that I would like to meet online with them and others more often than I have in the past. While I do not feel equal to extensive involvement in organizations, anymore, the social interaction is something I believe I’m still up to.
On Monday evening, I enjoyed a celebration of Saint David’s Day held by Jo Walton and friends online that featured two sessions of musical performances and poetry readings by various participants. St. David is the Patron Saint of Wales. (My Owen ancestors left Wales to settle in upper New York, I think, in the mid-1600s.)
Since then, I have been relaxing. Catching up on sleep and solitude. Reading a lot and napping with the Scampers. The dogs enjoy curling up on the footrest of my recliner, but if I turn over too often, they get down from the chair and move under the footrest, and so I have to be careful, getting up.
The weather, here, has taken a turn toward the warm. The snow is rapidly melting, and the air quality has disimproved, again. Supposedly, it will clear up over the weekend. I should have grabbed one of my cotton face masks on my way back to my chair, Right now, Thaddeus has settled on my legs, again, and so I may just take another nap.
I look forward to the coming weekend for more than improved air quality. Tomorrow afternoon, there is a social hour on Zoom, again, with Liz Danforth and patrons from across the globe. And I look forward to meeting for worship, which I did not attend, last weekend, in favor of the NaHaiWriMo poetry readings. I do hope there such gatherings at the end of next February, also. Enjoyed it.
This past week, I have reread books by Steven Gould that I have not looked at for a long time. That is, I had no electronic editions: Exo and Impulse. Also, I am rereading the last two books in L.E. Modesitt Jr.’s Imager Portfolio series. Al bought a set of headphones for me for my computer, and so I went online to listen again to more recent works of Tokio Myers on his YouTube channel. Lovely stuff, but I find I must turn off the pulsing lights added to some of the pieces. Aside from classics, my husband’s musical tastes and mine don’t match up. With the headset, I can turn up the volume.
I have made more space on this website and hope to do more of my blogging here, again, rather than on the WordPress blog.
I’m happy that you’ve stopped in. I look forward to looking in on many of the other Weekend Coffee Share posts, this weekend.
Best wishes,
Lizl
P.S. Natalie at Natalie the Explorer is our current host for weekend coffee share. Her post for this week may be found here, https://natalietheexplorer.home.blog/2021/03/05/doors-in-morocco/, along with the InLinkz link party link for this weekend.
Image by Jim Semonik from PixabayCopyright © 2021-01-28, by Lizl Bennefeld.
wake to morning’s light
sadness visits every life
get up…move along
sorrow outlasts victory
life’s poems always end
It’s been a while since I’ve deliberately set aside “vacation” time over the end-of-year holiday season. With the quiet of the pandemic and the increasing activity online, I think I need to cut back my hours interacting with people. While I was working freelance, especially during the busiest of those thirty years, I set aside the Christmas and New Year’s Day weeks as a quiet space in the midst of all the activity. We cut down holiday visits from two households to one, when my parents no longer wished to entertain, and since, the expanding families in my husband’s line have resulted in his siblings refocusing, also.
Until the pandemic came along and the virtual face-to-face interactions popped up via Meet and Zoom, Discord, and other venues, I felt…safe from disruptions. Now, I need to mark off blocks of solitude, again. Gathering/settling time for us—our family unit of adults and dogs. And space for quiet reengagement with and within my self.
open book
comfort of silence
blank pagesno voices
clamor for our time
but our own
side by side
their urns and ashes
not long parted
they are not in the ground
they’ve moved on to foreverthe gravestones
memories of happy times
and also grief
the joy of resurrection
their never–ending love
Copyright © 2020-12-11, by Liz Bennefeld.
Photo © by Liz Bennefeld,
Celebrating the anniversary of Father’s birthday on Saturday. He would have turned 104. He thought that 100 years was overly long. I wonder, you two, if you still do something special together on the Special Days. Dinner and dancing with friends? Just curious…
far distant lights
gathering peace among the stars
snowflakes on the wind
Copyright © 2020-12-09, by Liz Bennefeld.
dawn’s soft colors
Copyright 2020-12-09, by Lizl Bennefeld.
shades and shadows on the path
falling leaves
Image by chunli chen from Pixabay
I can’t change today by nursing anger
at a world I didn’t make
we won’t redeem tomorrow
without forgiving the past
© 2020-12-03, Liz Bennefeld.
we rejoice in today
while reaching for the stars…
for tomorrows that we’ll never see
but as a far-off view from heaven’s gates
© 2020-12-03, Liz Bennefeld.
at morning the crows
flock together in the trees
they sing to the sun
in praise of golden light and
the glory of creation
Copyright © 2020-12-01, by Liz Bennefeld.
When I first woke up, this morning, to let the dogs into the back yard, I heard the gathering of crows in tall trees around the neighborhood. I love their song at the beginning of the day, and again at evening.
Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabayon edge for a moment between wind gusts
the leaf’s anticipation
the joy of final rest
Copyright © 2020-12-01, by Liz Bennefeld.
Prompt: Write a kimo, an Israeli poetic form that tends to capture a moment (like a photograph in words), using three unrhymed lines with syllable count 10, 7, 6.
even in death
flowers speak of life
root and seed
sleeping through winter
new petals at spring
Copyright © 2020-11-30, by Liz Bennefeld.
The poem that I wrote, this morning between 2:30 and close to 4:00 o’clock, is still in its first draft. UNDER REVISION.
Putting this one aside to revise/rewrite during the winter. Maybe get a night photo of the actual train depot, if it’s still there. I haven’t gotten to that area on foot for a couple decades.
clouds before the sun
no shadows without daylight
silhouettes of trees
Copyright © 2020-11-28, by Liz Bennefeld.
so few memories of childhood…but lilacs in the Spring
their scent in Mother’s hair
Copyright © 2020-11-27, by Liz Bennefeld.
starting out the day
with my first cup of coffee
my dog on my legs
I am trying to wake up
while he’s fallen back to sleep
Copyright © 2020-11-26, by Liz Bennefeld.
reality is not dependent upon
my belief in itin creation or Creator
or myself
Copyright © 2020-11-25, by Liz Bennefeld.