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The Shed

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

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The Shed

Disproportionate well-spring
Storehouse of must and thought
Archivist of these lives
Ours and theirs
Cataloguer of tools and nouns
Poetry caught in the corner webbing
Holding abundance, simply enough

Adequate, wooing me within her womb
I look within
Diminutive doll-sized dwelling
Comforter with your economy of scale
Dimensional minimalist
Tell me how you live

Show me how the scale of life
Matters, not at all
Humble symbol of the meek
I seek to place my faith
And write
My poetry
And prose

lead by God and you

Inside of these dark walls
Dank and cool

in earshot of the wind chimes and the rooster crows
I can hear the beans grow

And smell the purple basil

caught up in the seaside breeze

carried on the shore-bound wind

If I stretch my nostrils and sit beside the open door
The Queen Ann’s lace waves at me
Lavishes me with praise of day
Compress my words into their lines
And form my writing
In a spartan space

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Go Love

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

Elizabeth W. Marshall's avatarelizabeth w. marshall

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Go Love

On the day when the news burned, a flame of pain scorched the earth
Beyond any before
When shock and awe were heard round the world for all the world to see
There was love
Birthing and breathing in a small space in a world that I curate
But in fact, no it’s all grace
Raising and loving
Pregnant pauses of hope and wait
Douse the fiery news
Run across the earth like meteors crossing paths in heaven
Landing here
Locked and loaded with Love

On the day that the news seared my soul, I could not sleep
But for the remembering of him and his love
He told me in trust, a lifetime lead up to this
His words, like a shooting star
All cliche for some, but not for me, he shot his bow
As a warrior for Cupid
He told me of his Love

On…

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Just One More

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

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Just One More

Is there room for one more

In a world of crowded words and broken hearts

Why tell another story of the fiery nighttime light

Am I right

Or am I wrong to write another

Poem about the moon
Many will not remain to hear

Captivated
by his winsome wooing,
he carried me from the warmth that was my night

In the quiet of our home
in the quiet of my heart, I heard him speak in muted tones

Many married, many longer, many sit
hip to hip
shouldered
by the night

And we
belie our age with our posture
Heads of every shade of grey
more akin to two
retiring into

Their final moonlit night

Of life

We

Seek nothing loftier
Than the
Fullness of our moon

++++

And so if I fail
To write this poem, to which the world may not respond

One more word gift, packaged by a poet’s bow
that the world
may not want, nor read nor need

About the moon and me

And you

Then it is I who die a little as I live

Let fizzle out
the gift

That was your whispered words

Let them fall into a world, cold and dark

Burn out like every other love that lost its fire

Flame extinguished  by
cruel ignorance
of the simple needs of love

++++++

Just one more
maybe just for me

A poem about the moon and you

And how you spoke
gently

Into our love
on one bliss-filled winter’s night

The poets cannot stay away

From subjects on the moon and love

But neither can the moon

Good company, I am in

When I am held so sweetly
by both the moon

and you

+++++

I may never know

If I was right or I was wrong

But I will know
that I was

Simply, loved by you
In the winter
Of our love

Once more