Susan's Poetic Blogosphere

Picking Wildflowers

2012-02-01T12:45:00.000-08:00

For years I had a recurring dream.

The sun was bright and warm, and

I was free-falling, falling somewhere familiar

but forgotten; and, in that dream

you were there waiting for me

encouraging me to do it over and over again.

With each free-fall came a resounding splash,

and the reward of fresh watermelon.

When I told you, I saw the surprise in your blue eyes,

the soft smile on your lips,

and you said that was us at Third Buoy;

and I, I couldn’t have been

more than two you thought,

but I remembered.

It seems only a day has passed since

we sat together in your old blue pick-up truck,

driving off into the cool of the early morning, and

living our next adventure.

We traveled all those back roads,

just the two of us,

sometimes hawking watermelons,

peaches, or tomatoes along the way.

What a pair we made.

I could tell countless stories;

boarding up the creek so I could swim,

setting up targets so I could shoot,

hunting for night crawlers for fishing trips, and

you encouraging me, a little tone deaf girl, to sing.

Papa, I could go on and on,

and there still wouldn’t be enough

days or hours to tell the stories alive in my heart,

but what means the most to me

are not the stories I could tell, not my memories.

What matters most is that you are a part of me,

and I will always take that with me

no matter where I travel, or the things I do.

Because of you,

I’ll always have a field of buttercups at my feet

and an Indian paintbrush in my hand, picked just for you.

You once asked,

if I remembered bringing you bouquets of fresh wildflowers.

Papa, how could I forget?

To an Injured Soldier

2011-12-15T18:09:00.000-08:00

For love of country
you answered the call,
risked life and limb,
you gave your all--
for millions of people
to live or die,
to defend my freedom,
and you don't ask why.
And while I'll never
know your name,
I am in your debt
just the same.
And, although thank you
seems awfully trite--
it's the best I can offer
to you, tonight.

Poetry

2011-11-29T05:41:00.001-08:00

Poetry; what is this thing called poetry?

Is it mere words consisting of syllables,

symbolism, and meter, or is it more?

Poetry; What is this thing called poetry?

Is it something your high school English teacher

spoon feeds you as you kick and scream?

Poetry: What IS this thing called poetry?

It is the sound of rain.

It is a first kiss.

It is the boom-thump of your favorite song.

It is birth, it is death, and it is everything in between.

Poetry is.

And, that is what makes it beautiful.

Poetry; what is this thing called poetry?

Is it mere words consisting of syllables,

symbolism, and meter, or is it more?

Poetry; What is this thing called poetry?

Is it something your high school English teacher

spoon feeds you as you kick and scream?

Poetry: What IS this thing called poetry?

It is the sound of rain.

It is a first kiss.

It is the boom-thump of your favorite song.

It is birth, it is death, and it is everything in between.

Poetry is.

And, that is what makes it beautiful.

Poetry; what is this thing called poetry?

Is it mere words consisting of syllables,

symbolism, and meter, or is it more?

Poetry; What is this thing called poetry?

Is it something your high school English teacher

spoon feeds you as you kick and scream?

Poetry: What IS this thing called poetry?

It is the sound of rain.

It is a first kiss.

It is the boom-thump of your favorite song.

It is birth, it is death, and it is everything in between.

Poetry is.

And, that is what makes it beautiful.

Susan

2011-11-09T09:49:00.000-08:00

For years we had each other--

inseparable, joined at the hip.

Whether it was chilling-out beneath the sun

in our knock-off designer shades,

or getting mani-pedi’s at the local salon;

we were together.

Now were separated by miles and miles.

All we share are cherished memories,

a few e-mails, cards, and long distance calls.

I have to admit, it’s not the same as

girl talk and movie night,

coffee house drinks and

expensive desserts.

Life is boring

without your daily

laughter, your bubbly smile, and

your crazy stories.

I could never tell you how much I miss you,

but I think you know

with every beat of your heart,

because you are my twin soul and

my very best friend.

Untitled.

2011-10-11T16:37:00.000-07:00

I just want to close my eyes and disappear.

What more can I do, say or feel?

My New Kindle Books

2011-09-27T16:51:00.000-07:00

So, I usually devote my blog to strictly poetry; however, today I'm going to spend a little time in a shameful display of self promotion.

Today my first Kindle books hit the Cyber shelf and are available for purchase on Amazon. Don't worry if you don't have a Kindle, Kindle free is available for download to your laptop for...you got it...free, so you don't have to miss out on my newest books. In fact, I use the Kindle free version on my own laptop!

Books by Susan Elliott:

Wandering Through a Barely Functional Mind

and

Ink Blots on Paper

Thanks to everyone for supporting me on Susan's Poetic Blogosphere, and for encouraging me to reach for the stars. Soon, my first collection of short stories will be available for purchase as well. I'll let you know when it hits the shelves. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the collections!

To William: you have been one of my loudest strongest supporters, and while we've never met in person, I appreciate you more than I could ever say. Thank you!

Susan Elliott

Summertime

2011-09-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

Pierre Auguste Renoir: Summertime

Fading furiously fast
slipping, ebbing away.
Winding down in
harmony with the day's
fading rays.
Summer,
if only still life
or polaroid, those
elongated days would be
forever childlike-wonder.
Sweet, supple summertime,
savored breathlessly
in memory.

My Bed is Yours

2011-09-16T09:02:00.000-07:00

Paul Friis Nybo/ Bedroom

My bed is yours
so this night I pine
of you my love
in the bed that's mine.

Sleep well my dear
may you be blest
with blissfull slumber
and happiness.

Wake up ready
to meet the dew
with a gleam in your eye
for the day is new.

God with peace.
Seek God's love,
for kind is the spirit
of the One above.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright May 7, 1995

*I left this note on my bedside table for Larry. It was right after he'd proposed, and he was house sitting for mom and dad. I couldn't wait for the day that we would wed and be together forever!

Ecstasy

2011-09-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

Frank Bernard Dicksee/ Romeo and Juliet Kissing

Lost in the depths
of a deep depression
lies the pain, love and
hunger of a full confession.

Falling into the mists
of your sparkling eyes
we're completely involved
with secretive lies.

Holding nothing back.
No lurking fears, no
thoughts for sorrow, but
joyful tears.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright August 31, 1992

You Know Who You Are

2011-09-15T16:44:00.000-07:00

I cling to the memory
inside my breast, clutching
it tightly I try my best.

I can feel it slip and stumble
and fall, now I'm alone
against the wall.

I remember some fragment,
but it makes no sense.
Is it a place, or a time
somewhere forth hence?

My head is pounding!
Oh, what could it be
that seizes my heart,
then sets it free?

Was it a dream, or
a sliver of truth --
that rips apart
my exhausting youth?

I'm scared!
I'm alone!
Life has become a
monotonous drone.

Escape is futile, or so I hear.
So, my only protection's
instinctive fear.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright 1993

Blank

2011-09-15T16:29:00.000-07:00

Empty
...thoughts
...heart &
...soul.

Alone
...trapped
...locked &
...afraid.

You
...close
...there &
...beautiful.

But, just out of reach.
Why?

Too Late

2011-09-15T15:19:00.000-07:00

Leopold Stevens/ The Break-up Letter

It's a misplaced moment
that can't be recalled.
He's finally gone too far, and
his silent scream for us
is way past too late.
The moment is gone, and so
are his chances.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright, 1992

Visual Memory

2011-09-15T15:03:00.000-07:00

A moment passes
but stays locked in the small
dark corner of my mind.
It's left waiting, to be opened and
treasured in years to come.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright 1992

His Look of Love

2011-09-15T14:11:00.000-07:00

The Lamentation of Christ

I watched you with her.
She saw my stare.
I smiled at her blankly
wishing I was there.
I love him first!
I wanted to scream,
but I knew to her
it wouldn't mean a thing.
I watched you smile
that look of love,
as you watched her
from up above.
I looked down, a
silver tear in my eye
so you, my love,
wouldn't see me cry.
I watched you with her.
I shut my eyes.
Pretending to myself
I wouldn't cry.
Then I walked off
so you couldn't see
that look of love,
for you from me.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright

Fulfillment

2011-09-15T13:44:00.000-07:00

Erastes and Eremenos

fulfillment in a kiss
no joys compare to this.
--erupting passion
--conditioning love
KISS
simple pleasure,
yet strong enough
to live forever.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright 1994

Joy

2011-09-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

Francesco Hayez/ The Kiss

Joys have I none
more than your lips.
Dreams of mine
wander no farther
than your kiss.

Molded together in a
passionate frenzy,
our lips pressed together
to remain locked forever.

Oh, nothing is better
than a passionate kiss
from your soft sensuous lips.

(c) Susan Elliott, copyright 1991

Kiss

2011-09-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

a kiss as a rose
petal by petal

more perfect prolonged
the longer imagined
the more desired

a kiss as a rose
petal by petal

kiss by kiss.

(c) Susan Elliott

For a Lifetime

2011-09-15T10:05:00.000-07:00

I’ve loved you for a lifetime,

even before I knew your name.

You’re the heart and soul of my existence.

You’re the blue light of my inner flame.

I’ve loved you for a lifetime,

never again will I be the same.

You’re the inspiration for my writing.

You’re the song I can’t contain.

I’ve loved you for a lifetime,

now at last I wear your name.

You’re the voice of constant wisdom

You’re my shelter from the rain.

I have loved you for a lifetime.

I will love you for a lifetime.

I will love you for my lifetime.

I love you!

* This was written for my husband on our 8th Anniversary. To date, we've been married 16 1/2 years. I still feel the same as the day I wrote it. I love you, Larry!