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.
awakened from sleep
hard rain against the window
thunder coming near
memories of walking, wet and
reveling in dark winds
Copyright © 2019-07-17, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Copyright © 2019-07-14, by Lizl Bennefeld.
I found myself
wondering why my parents
haven’t phoned, today
I’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. (
Rewriting the World
So many years, to notice I’ve returned to the place from which I started. A journey not yet ended, but which will end in an hour … or months … or decades from this day. A journey not taken?
streams of thought
and kindnesses not looked for
I saved gratitude for the end
but, thinking now, it should not be left too late
to speak through silent words
written on a screen…a sheet of paper
or the sky’s clouds
before the earth is wrung dry
and cries for tears
to dampen it, again
perhaps there is a time…a moment
to stop the flow of thought and reason
to feel what
is and mourn
might have been—
to acknowledge the gaps
until the world’s too light
not to blow away
[Rough draft]. Copyright © 2019-05-22, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
Late Spring in the Neighborhood
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.
dawn light scattered
trembling green-gold sparkles
dewdrops in the grass
Copyright © 2019-04-23, by Lizl Bennefeld.
night’s soft cloak
sun’s lingering warmth
summer’s breeze is redolent
with scents of sleeping flowers
Copyright © 2019-04-22, by Lizl Bennefeld.
Brewer’s prompt for Day 20: Write a dark poem.