Copyright © 2020-11-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
the beauty of ants
and the flowers that they love
the sunlit days
soft sunset colors
after swollen clouds and rain
winds fade and die
rivers overflow their banks
trees are mirrored in the streets
Copyright © 2020-11-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.
gathered in the treeCopyright © Elizabeth W. Bennefeld, 2020-11-05.
discussing what’s below them
wanting for some peace
mock war’s worn its welcome out
let’s watch a different battle
the sky at evening
golden storm clouds piled high
one last rain before all ends
Copyright © 2020-11-02, by Lizl Bennefeld.
twenty-five or thirty-some years
yet to go … or less
looking at past records
of family births and deaths
my dad felt a hundred years
was too long to stick around for
my mother thought that ninety-four
was quite a bit too short
neither was pleased
don’t know what I’ll think
when my world and I transform
when time becomes eternity
maybe I’ll notice, or perhaps I’ll
forget what came before
Copyright © 2019-11-29, by Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
no more ideas
nothing to be done with that
but to keep still
listening from my silence
to the heartbeat of the world
Copyright © 2019-11-23, by Lizl Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
too warm to wear the snow boots…
too cold for slippers
Copyright © 2019-11-22, by Liz Bennefeld.
leaves in the front yard
brown, windblown collages
snow melted and gone
looking forward once again
to icy streets and soft snow
[tanka.] Copyright © 2019-11-18, Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
Filling in for a missing day.
from the mountaintop
I was always looking down
in dells I look up
peaks provide a heady view
but in valleys, heaven’s light
[tanka]. Copyright © 2019-11-18, by Liz Bennefeld.
Written to #RonovanWrites #Haiku weekly challenge prompt: Valley & Peak
“Catching Up With Mother”
I woke up thinking, “I should call Mom, today”,
forgetting that she died three years ago this week.
Forgetting that she had not taken a call from me
at least half a year before I got called to have
the ambulance tear her from her only home.
I still want to call her and ask about her week
and the previous years since we last caught up.
I don’t know where she’s sitting, or if she wants
to walk with me along a pasture fence
in a place not new to her…or one not new to me.
If I go ahead and start a new conversation,
should I pause between my sentences?
to see if she will answer me or make
a comment of her own? She liked to talk to me
but she didn’t always listen. Now, I wouldn’t care.
I have looked through all the emails. Of course,
none are new, and the last that were coherent
were sent a year before she died. I hadn’t,
really hadn’t noticed how far things had gone.
Or feeling bewildered, I didn’t want to see.
When Mother wasn’t panicking, she took me
as she found me, loving me all the while
she wondered why I wanted to be me
and not the daughter that she’d wanted. But
she still trusted me to do what must be done.
I can feel her arms around me, giving me a hug.
I can’t hear her voice, but she knows when I cry.
She can hear me talk to her and read what I write.
I know that she and God are always present to my life.
The separation that I feel is just an odd notion in my mind.
Copyright © 2019-11-17, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
puppies on my bed
keeping warm my feet and heart
sheltered from the cold
[senryu.] Copyright © 2019-11-17, Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
Prompt for day 5: “pleasure” poem
A bit of catch-up, here. Still behind more than a few prompts.
Recognizing the inevitable loss of friends, family members, and mentors over the years.
mourning once again
the loss of those who loved me
who brightened my life
locked themselves away from me—
walked away . . . I stand alone
Copyright © Liz Bennefeld, 2019-11-16.
Day 15 prompt: a “middle” poem
Edited to add: Another in the previous generation of relatives just died this morning; he was 95 years old. Alert and lucid to the end; a low blood oxygen level for a couple days, and then his heart just stopped beating.
like autumn leaves
at the edge of winter
brown on green
dreaming of the halcyon days
that are surely yet to come
Copyright © 2019-11-16, by Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
restless leaves dance
across the newly white grass
never still for long
errant winds stir them around
shaking off the falling snow
tanka. Copyright © 2019•11•13, Liz Bennefeld.
swirling on the path
fall leaves dance to nature’s tune
just before the snow
haiku. Copyright © 2019•11•12, Liz Bennefeld.
Prompt: article of clothing
threads tangled in teeth and paws
my sock in his mouth
salvage. Copyright © by Liz Bennefeld,
2019-11-09, all rights reserved.
more than a dusting
but not a second layer…
frosting on the path
cupcake winter, senryu. Copyright © by Liz Bennefeld,
2019-11-08, all rights reserved.
leaves upon the road
farther, the first quarter moon
clouds and tree branches
wayward breezes stir the waves
moonlight is lost in the sky
Copyright © Lizl Bennefeld, 2019-11-07.
warning sirens howl baying at a veiled moon mingled mist and smoke
Copyright © 2019-11-04, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Prompt: RonovanWrites Haiku Weekly Poetry Challenge for 2019-11-04. First posted to my Quilted Poetry blog on WordPress.
standing on a stage
without a script or cue cards
feeling out of place
I wonder, what comes next?
when the final curtain drops?
Copyright © 2019-11-03, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Happily Ever Afters
Live ever after
with the happilies you find
Cherish the memories
that leach the pain from grief
Turn from dead regrets
to each experience
of presence freely given,
in joy still received
Copyright © by Lizl Bennefeld, 2019-11-02. All rights reserved.
what’s the capitol
of the Peace Garden State?
where’s the garden at?
we learned all the answers there
working for Dad, clipping grass
Copyright © 1 November 2019, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.
When we were children (there were seven of us, and I am assuming that others got roped into this, each in their turn), Dad hired us during May and as needed during summer school vacations to maintain the grounds of the village cemetery where he was the groundskeeper and sexton. He didn’t retire until he was in his 90s. There was particular need for us children to prepare the cemetery for Memorial Day and to refurbish things after the influx of visitors during the following months. My brother Tim and I worked together, being close in age, and we would pass the time by challenging each other with such miscellanea as state and country capitols and other interesting trivia.
My mother died three years ago, this month, and my father followed her three-and-a-half months later. Their ashes are buried next to the family monument, near two siblings whose lives were measured in days.
and why would I live
beyond all kin and kindness
absent to their eyes
so, one leaves a friendless warmth,
braving winter’s storms, to die
Copyright © 2019.10.31, by Lizl Bennefeld.
The many deaths of those most dear
within the past three years… Suddenly, I’m homesick
for a place I’ve never seen.
Mourning seems to come in waves. In the midst of happiness, remembered losses beg not to be forgotten. That’s a trap, I think. The insistence of the mind on revisiting those intense emotions, long after one has moved on. The bittersweet taste of loves and friends and family set aside until time ends, or else, renews all things.
I am once again planning to write 30 poems during November (NaNoWriMo)—hopefully, more than one a day, but we’ll see. November and December are cluttered months. Nonetheless…
Today’s and tomorrow’s poems are warm-up exercises. During this poem-a-day exercise, I am hoping not to resort to canned prompts, but to find poems in life as it happens.
the years and the days
ephemeral, but endless…
looking for the end
Copyright © 2019.10.30, by Lizl Bennefeld.
the season shifts
to days of cold, and colder nights
stars shine more brightly
dry winds abscond with clouds and leave
faint wisps of smoky haze
Copyright © 2019-05-05, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Forecast for the week is for nighttime lows in the 30s and low 40s (although not below freezing), cold and gusty wind.
I decided not to post a couple of the poems that I wrote during April, so my count on this site comes up short. I fell ill from an infected wound, and so I have been sleeping a lot and taking antibiotics every six hours. I will be so happy to have more than five hours of sleep in a stretch…you wouldn’t believe! Follow-up appointment later this week.
Prompt for Day 26: Write 10 one- or two-line poems on one subject, however loosely related to the subject. Put them together, arranging and rearranging, and title them as one poem.
An Everlasting Pause
Only eternity lasts forever
Be still and know
There are many mansions
and the perfect one is set aside for you
Passage of time and distance of place…
all is present in the Now
I cannot conceive of a moment of perfection
that never ends or varies
One thing that puzzles me is whether eternity is
a continuity, an instance of existence, or an object of art
Clarity persists in haunting the mind of the bemused
The eternal Here and Now overlooks the ebb and flow
of distance and time, not counting minutes or the miles
Satisfaction is a state of mind independent
of circumstances or the company we keep
Experiencing the tides of now, the gentle inflow and recession
of being and not being
Hypnotized by sensation and waiting for the feeling
to come again
Lost in the eternal pause between nothing more
Copyright © 2019-04-26, by Lizl Bennefeld.