Awakened at 0430

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-07-17

awakened from sleep
hard rain against the window
thunder coming near

memories of walking, wet and
reveling in dark winds

Memorial Day Memories

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-05-27

photos of my parents in the 1940s — In Memory

I found myself
wondering why my parents
haven’t phoned, today

I’m caught up short, remembering
they’re on Heaven’s direct line

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

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-04-24

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

Day 22. Transformation #NaPoWriMo

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-04-232019-04-23

Monday’s prompt words (from RonovanWrites Haiku weekly challenge) were action and friction:

action of raindrops
friction of waves on the shore
dry wind across stone

nature—micron by micron—
reshapes oceans and the land

Day 20 : Night’s Darkness #NaPoWriMo #Glo/NaPoWriMo

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-04-232019-04-23

photoart by Elizabeth (Lizl) Bennefeld. All rights reserved. — Peonies

night’s soft cloak
sun’s lingering warmth
cloud-clad stars

summer’s breeze is redolent
with scents of sleeping flowers

Brewer’s prompt for Day 20: Write a dark poem.

Day 17: Saturday Matinee | #NaPoWriMo 2019

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-04-17

Inspired by Brewer’s POD prompt to write a reason poem and Permafrost, by Alastair Reynolds.

when the end does come
I will not be here to watch
the step off the cliff

documentaries portrayed
as funny children’s movies

Day 11: Drawn Towards Joy

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-04-11

This poem was posted also on my Quilted Poetry blog.

new, green leaves on a cotoneaster tree in our back yard — New Growth

drawn towards joy
changing of the seasons
gentle warmth
quiet melt of winter’s snow
springtime’s gift of sun and rain

As I write this poem, I am listening to an ongoing spring blizzard that has delivered over seven inches of snow, so far today. We expect another five to seven inches before the storm ends. The tulips and daffodils long since emerged from the warm, damp grown. I am trusting the new snow to protect them from the wind and icy rains still to come.

I have looked at photos from previous years, and April snows are not that unexpected. Still, it is strange to be confined to house and outbuildings by snow drifts, when at the beginning of the week, I was outside barefoot and without a jacket.

barefoot at the edge of the fading snowdrift in the back yard — Barefoot Weather, 2019-04-08

A Haiku and a Memorate #NaPoWriMo #NaGloPoWriMo

by Elizabeth Bennefeld2019-04-04

pinetree across the way, mid-March 2019 — Tree in Winter

puppies by my feet
pine trees swayed by rising winds
and yet…stillness

Prompt: Write an Animal poem. (I think this prompt is yesterday’s.)

Mother’s Approval
a memorate

asleep, I saw her walk
toward me from the new workshop
she smiled and passed

waking, I recalled that she
had died before we built it