In Which This Blogger, Poet Asks For Help And Your Vote In A Big Deal To Her Contest

May 5, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

So as a writer I dream a lot. And lately I have been dreaming of writing a book or books. Certainly this is not surprising to hear. And when I do write my book I suppose that I will come to you, my blog readers and announce the news with all kinds of excitement and joy. And I may ask you to come along with me on the book launch journey. To share the news, to spread the word and to help me celebrate this milestone in a writer’s life.

But today instead I am humbly asking for yall to vote for me in a poetry contest which I have entered. If you are on Facebook you may vote by LIKING my poems at The Library Hotel’s Facebook Page.

So thanks yall. I am so pleased to have three haiku make the Winner’s Circle round of the competition. I have three in this group of 21 out of over 350 entrees ( as best I can calculate and tell. Math is not my strongpoint.)

To vote and help me advance, just “LIKE” the haiku by @graceappears, my twitter handle written on the bottom of each of the three haiku. I am so hopeful about this. But honestly, if I do not win I have already won by making it to this point.

Friends, here is the link to the Library Hotel’s Facebook page. Scroll down to the Winner’s Circle (wow can’t believe I am typing that) and there you will see the three poems I have in this contest. They are highlighted below.

So very honored to have you walk with me through this contest.

Even if this is not about a big book deal or a big signing with a literary agent, I am excited to share this part of my poetry and writing journey with you. Perhaps that will all come in due time.

Oh and if you want to make this extra fun and cool for me, come back to the comments and tell me you voted. AND I WILL THANK YOU. We can do this. Or rather I can do this with your help. Honored to have such wonderful blog readers and subscribers.

Always grateful for your time spent here reading my poetry and prose.

Gratefully,

Elizabeth

Joy: The Anecdote For The Blues

May 1, 2014May 2, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

Joy: The Anecdote For The Blues

This thing called joy
Scarce commodity, some of these days
Other days more plentiful than tree frogs
After the summer downpour
Singing their hight-pitched song
Harmonizing
All wet, wild and wonky
While the steam rises from the pavement

Perhaps we learn best when we go
Creeping through life
That joy is a by-product of slow walking
Slow talking
Pedaling places and savoring sentences
Scavenging for joy
In a world full of pain
Seeking beauty in the slower pace
Downshifting to meander
Instead of full throttle

Slow is a multiplier of joy
Some days
Quencher of thirst
Chaser of dark shadows and bad news
And evil doers
And what lurks underneath the bed

But joy fills in the cracks
Calks the gaping black hole places
Where the dull and dark
Need light and love

I know a story or two
About sadness and pain
You do too
I re-tell them, wear them out
On rewind

But I know some stories of miracle
And surprise
Of overflowing joy explosions
Like a whole box of Hot Tamales
At a buck a box
Poured into your mouth, in the best
Movie you ever have seen

I think if we spill it
Like sticky Coke on that movie floor
The sweet joy might
Just grab on to someone else

Lord knows the pain is deep

So spill that uncontainable joy
Share your news of good, great and excellent
The by-products of your prayer
The miracles in your life
Whisper it in humility
Or shout it shrill, roller-coaster ride loud
Hollering at the top of your lungs

Cause Lord knows we need
To wash that pain away
Like an ice cold sweet tea washes down
BBQ smothered in liquid heat

Wash me in your joy
Spill it out on me
And catch the happy tears I weep

Tomorrow may bring
A new flavor of pain
Share in my joy and I’ll share in yours
Remind me when the ebony clouds roll in
That Joy will come
In the morning, or the day after
Tomorrow’s morning
Remind me, soul
And re-tell the good, good news
You just lived

Joy is the anecdote
For the blues

Color me
In every shade
Of joy

++++++++++++

joining Lyli and Jennifer

Releasing The White Knuckled Grip

April 30, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Releasing The White Knuckled Grip

What would you say to a girl and her dreams
Teetering on the edges of time
Laced in every shade of hope
Fringed in simple, ordinary
Longing and love

How would you take her heart in your hand
Cup it and calm it
Fill in the cracks and crevices
Of dry rot
Questioning and doubt
Tuck in the ragged edges of fear

Where would you tell her to lay down her dream
The one that’s unraveling and
Two sizes too big

In love, I whispered this
Hold on loosely, release your hard-nosed, white knuckled grip
Unfurl your hands like a banner of peace
Let it wave and dance in the air where it’s free
Give it room to sway in May’s warm breeze
Let it linger, not languish
But let it out of your sight

On the edges of time
Time,
It will tell her
It always does

Quiet, she waits

Praying and hoping with fingers
Releasing their grip
She found it better like this
For this would not be the end of her dream

Or the death of her hoping
No matter
What they say
Ends and beginning and middles are funny that way

She chooses to hope hard, to dream big
Other and bigger and smaller and more
And less
Lead by the Spirit
Her new dreams will soar
Not because, but in spite
Of her

The sun sets and rises again and again
Set your soul dreams on new ones
Release the grip of the past
Press forth in gentleness, meekness and love

She’s been
Surprised by joy many a time
It may return, its likely it will

She heard me, I know it
For she nodded and smiled
And her spirit seemed freer
Because of release
I know that she heard me
Stubborn and headstrong
I’ve known her since birth

For
She is me and I am her
And we talk to each other
About these big things
Covered, protected
By Spirit and Truth

Still Here

April 28, 2014April 28, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

Still Here

Cut grass, sweet and fragrant
Spring’s trademark
You could bottle the stuff, sell it
At Neiman Marcus
It punctuates my days
From sunup to sundown
Like the lady with the beehive on the elevator
Heavy handed with her perfume
In an effort to try hard, too hard
To cover her transgressions
Sweet smell of store bought grace

Smells like childhood and memory
Out there
Skint knees and day-light savings time
And those pint sized 747’s go from here to there
You could set your clock by their work
Pollinating and cross-pollinating
So focused on their work
They produce guilt
In the poet
They, single-minded and task oriented
The artist, wavering and wondering

And I am still here
Left in the wake of new beginnings
Wallflower, wondering
Why poetry dried up
A heart mining deep
Caught in transit are the words

I come to a ghost white page

Blinking cursor like an old school marm
Tapping her impatient brograns
Where are the words you claim you
Bought and paid for with your living

Where is the poetry
Saved up
On the floor of the mason jar
Like lightening bugs
Gasping for air

Still here
Polishing, pruning
Mining the story
And praying hard

The words don’t return to ash
And dust
For lack of air

Breathing deep
Still
And restless
Poet warrior
Her pen, her weapon

Seeking peace
And moving the sprinkler
To water the words

Celebrating
Poetry Month
In the still quiet
Of irony and longing

Joining Laura Boggess for Playdates at The Wellspring

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