quivering 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
Fish, tonight
Category: Lifestyle
Ancestors
So many years ago…
what 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
The cold outside
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.
Weekend Coffee Share, 2021-03-05
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.
End of the Year
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
why would you weep?
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…
Waiting for the train — Poem a Day — 29 November 2020 Rev.
The poem that I wrote, this morning between 2:30 and close to 4:00 o’clock, is still in its first draft.
The dogs woke me up just after two o’clock,
Climbing out of bed to sleep on the floor
I can hear the wind gusts rattle windows
And on the other side of town
The Empire Builder’s whistle blowI remember when I lived down near the tracks,
Fifty years or more ago, sitting on a bench
With Charles D–, waiting for his train…
A bit of the flavor, anyhow. Remembering the late 1960s and solitary men waiting for the night train in the upper Midwest, headed for Seattle. Lot of work yet to do on it. The first draft goes on for two or maybe three or four more stanzas. Putting it 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.
Morning’s Glory — Poem a Day — November 2020, Day 9
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 PixabayA Pause in the Journey — Poem a Day — November, Day 8
on 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.
After the winter — Poem a Day — 30 November 2020
even in death
flowers speak of life
root and seed
sleeping through winter
new petals at spring
Copyright © 2020-11-30, by Liz Bennefeld.
Waiting for the train — Poem a Day — 29 November 2020
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.
Waking Up — Poem a Day — 26 November 2020
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.
Signs of life — Poem a Day – 23 November 2020
at eight twenty-five
sunlight shines past distant trees
the first signs of life
through the misty glass I view
one car moving down the street
Copyright © 2020-11-23, by Liz Bennefeld.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 333 Life and View
More often, more present to my mind
As the years go by, I find myself thinking more frequently about staking out more formal times for solitude. Initiating rather than reacting. Turning inward. Perhaps I am more easily distracted, these days, and troubled more by externals that interrupt my thoughts. And then I review the proclivities of my past and recognize that there always has been a struggle for more isolation…for fewer interruptions and broader perspectives. I like the quiet that allows thoughts and images to flow together. The currents and their directions, the coming together and the divergence. Spontaneity, the mind at peace.
Sunday meditation
morning light
Syrphid’s shadow
wind’s caress
Copyright © 2019-07-14, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Memorial Day Memories
I found myself
wondering why my parents
haven’t phoned, todayI’m caught up short, remembering
they’re on Heaven’s direct line
Copyright © 2019-05-27, Memorial Day, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Memorial Day was “our” family holiday. It’s now my remembering. After my parents were discharged, they returned to Father’s home town to realize their life’s long-held dream of raising lots of children, together. (Eventually, there were nine of us, seven living into adulthood.) My father was groundskeeper (one of many jobs) and then the sexton, of the village cemetery, and we children, while growing up, worked with him to get the grounds ready for the Memorial Day observances. Mother was in the Navy, and Father was in the Army, separated overseas, but both serving in the Pacific Theater. (In uniform).
Day 24 : Just different #NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo
complete as me
i’m just me
not alone…but separate
a narrow focus
what goes wrong outside this room
does not change what i can do
Lizl Bennefeld, 2019-04-24
April’s Blow | #NaPoWriMo2019 / #GloPoWriMo2019
March comes in as a lion and … April buries the road by which it leaves
January’s cold
is sharp but somehow peaceful
unlike April’s stormslike cyclones over water
Spring adds fury to its snow
Copyright © 2019-04-10, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Please also visit my Quilted Poetry blog on WordPress.
Day 8 – Use the kimo poetic form
Write a kimo, an Israeli form that tends to capture a moment (like a photograph in words), using three unrhymed lines with syllable count 10, 7, 6. (Cuyahoga County Public Library)
ice crystals scattered in a shrinking patch
glistening in the sunlight…
exhaling their last breaths
Copyright © 2019-04-08, by Lizl Bennefeld.
My first poem for this Monday was written for the Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Prompt Challenge, and can be found on my Quilted Poetry blog: River’s Crest.
Morning echoes
distant light
dim through mist not scattered
by breath of wind
sounds fold back upon themselves
echoes too close to be heard
Copyright © 2019-03-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
On the day
fresh breath of cold
sunlight on frosted branches
silent song
Copyright © 2019-01-19, by Liz Bennefeld.
Frosty Branches [photo]. Copyright © 2010-01-19, Liz Bennefeld, photographer.
Eventide
the wind rests quiet on the land
faint sunlight shrinks behind
tree branches and blue clouds
pasted on a blue-grey skybirds sing summonings
then nestle into nests
for warmth throughout
a night with which the cold
returns too sooncling to the cold, a shield
against the warming days
Copyright © 2018-05-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Day 26, Life-long learning | #NaPoWriMo2018
nahaiwrimo:April 26 LEARN
Real life-long learning doesn’t have to be profound or deep or even long-lasting. Doing so keeps us young! While in Boston this last weekend, I learned that I love lobster rolls. I also learned that I love the warm welcoming people I met. Learning something new blesses us all in one way or another and perhaps only in hindsight. Onward!
a water pail
moist dirt between my toes
sunlight’s warmth
after a lingering winter
it’s time to plant flowers
Copyright © 2018-04-26, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Day 24: Growing Up | #NaPoWriMo2018
Prompt for the day, Cayahoga library: List all the jobs you have had, including volunteer work and other unpaid jobs. Turn the list into a list poem by rearranging, repeating or just titling it. /Or/ write a poem about one of them.
I thought I’d stick to the jobs during grade school and high school, leaving out the gardening chores, since that really was free labor for the common good.
“It’s good for you”
My first jobs, tedious but
character- and muscle-building
picking rocks at springtime
in farmers’ fields
kids’ time is cheaper than repairsFather rented us out by the day
The second summer job lasted
much shorter than it seemed
which was always and forever
clipping grass around stones
mowing the cemetery grounds
setting traps for ground squirrels
who spoiled painstaking work—
lugging pails of well water
to drown the pests or
drive them outShould have stuck with the rock picking
The best job of my childhood
was selling door to door
in a small town every household
finds the need for more stationery
cards for none or all occasions
so their children find buyers, tooPay-off was a week or two
each August far away from home
for private and group lessons,
ensemble, band and choir rehearsalsBrass ensemble work cost extra…
Worth the miles walked to get there
Copyright © 2018-04-24, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
Day 17: Aeronautics, Intermission | #NaPoWriMo2018
Prompt from #RonovanWrites #Haiku – Original post with more photos.
sunlight on his wings
iridescent dragonfly
the joy of his dance
Copyright © 2018-04-17, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
Day 9: Who We Were | #NaPoWriMo2018
I decided to go back to April 9, to the Pilgrimage prompt, and wander a bit through the family tree. My mother was a genealogist, among other things, and we kids got to do research, each in our turn.
Who We Were
[still a rough draft]Our people came from Iowa
by way of the Norman invasion,
Mayflower I and II, the Winthrop Fleet
by way of rivers on diverse craft
neighbors with neighbors
towns moving togetherThey arrived in the Firelands
then settled in Iowa and
opened South Dakota—farms
were lost behind the dam, so
back to small-town IowaPenneys went into retail, catalog sales
A connection of “our” Bennetts sent
Stanley to find Livingston
the Deans made sausage, and the
Gallops (Kolopp, from Alsace) took pollsThe grocery store owner in
South Dakota patented a plow
the Carters served in India
as Methodist missionaries
Evangeline Ink wrote an exposé
novel about TB camp swindlesMy generation and the next have been
lawyers, executives, freelancers, clerks
writing and publishing books,
poetry. textbooks, and many stories
nurses caring for the injured and elderly,
builders, handcrafters, quilters,
artists, musiciansMyself, I grow wild flax
in the backyard garden, take naps
with the puppy dogs, make up recipes
and do the laundry, play piano, and
hold my husband close to my heartI read only as many books in a week
as I write poems, a photo for most
no children, but a library
gathered over a lifetime
determined to leave no book unread…
always buying moreThere’s always time to write a poem…
time to read a book
Copyright © 2018-04-10, by Elizabeth W. “Lizl” Bennefeld.
Journaling: paper vs. digital
I find it interesting, how different the topics are for my online journal from the paper journal that I have returned to since the first of 2018. Things that I would only post, if at all, on my Patchwork Prose site, which still suffers little to no traffic in any given month. (I have not brought myself to write there much.)
I suspect that I am more secretive than I’d thought. Or, more accurately, how much a “private person” I’ve turned out to be, simply because I do not talk much about externals. Because I don’t live in the externals.
Often, a “thing” or “experience” seems not objectively real until I write it down somewhere. Or relive it to myself in words so that it will stick. I have found it interesting that I can go back through memory and reimage, should other events overtake me, and so file a happening in words in my mind or on paper afterwards. Not always, but sometimes. Enough.
When I look back through the written journals before I shred them (I have journaled since my high school years), I find that a lot of what I have puzzled over/pondered, surprises me. Looks unfamiliar. The same is true of my online journals. Excepting, perhaps, the poems that I write.
Elizabeth
Late night thoughts
Reading about the excess profit taking on generic drugs by companies centered on fast money rather than service to society, I find myself becoming convinced that for me to purchase and use such products would not be something I could bring myself to do. And then I wonder how much that conviction rests on my confidence of life after death.
In dealing with health issues currently, I avoid certain medications and diagnostic procedures. Some side effects that I know run in the family make me choose no treatment, rather than the certain damage to health and quality of life that would result from preventive medication.
A case in point would be the suggestion by doctor and nurse educator that I should use insulin to bring my blood sugar level down quickly. Knowing myself to be less than attentive or oriented to time and place, I refused that option, deeming the possibility of my killing myself by double- or triple-dosing myself through inattention to what I do to be more likely than effective self-treatment. After twelve months, I am now tapering off the medication that I did accept a prescription for.
That raises another question in my mind regarding motivation. Am I simply adverse to interfering with life’s progression? Do I think that nothing bad will happen to me by avoiding preventive treatments? What sort of internal guidelines/proscriptions am I following.
I feel strongly about the choices that I have been and continue to make. I do not know what my internal driver is. At all. Except that it seems to have something to do with the purpose of and framework for living in this world.
Late at Night
the ticking clock
restless sounds of puppy dreams…
one unread chaptercurtains closed against the dark
stars above adorn the night
Copyright © 2017-12-18, by Lizl Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
Response Poem (29 November 2017)
Brewer: For today’s prompt, write a response poem. The poem can be a response to anything–a piece of news, some art, a famous (or not so famous) quotation, or whatever. However, I thought it might be a cool opportunity to respond to a poem that you’ve written this month. If both poems work, it could make an interesting dynamic to have two (or more) poems that interact with each other.
leaves on edge
dance to autumn’s wind
jeté…temps levé
Elizabeth Bennefeld, haiku: Autumn Dance, Copyright © 2017-10-18
yesterday, leaves fell
today they spiral upwards
reaching for the sky
as nature strives for balance
who falls down, must rise again
Elizabeth Bennefeld, tanka, Copyright © 2017-11-29