Tag: Encouragement

Be Brave

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Spencer and the dolphin

Be Brave

And now that you are here be brave
When you say it as an imperative,
You strip away choice
Courage comes like a crouching tiger
Across the page
Laying in wait for his cowardly prey
He seeks fear, that warrior, Bold
Even the B stands tall, puffed out chest
Posture and stance are more than half of it anyway
Oh, be brave
Your choices are weak

The words birth emotion
Hot breathes seep through the cracks in your teeth as you say it several times
Sizzling heat
Builds up steam as you build strength,
As you inhale the words

Cowardice leaves through the cracks in your armor
At the very sound of the phrase
Power and strength begin as you state it
Again and again
Repetition doubles your chances for a win
And now that you are here be brave
Second cousin to let there be light
The genesis of new life

Ready now to bury fear like you cover me
Gently, as I lay dormant in the night
With your body’s heat
Night after frigid night
We wait
Hoping it into existence
Watering the miniscule seeds

Have you seen the size of a radish seed?
Promise is buried in our own backyard.
Red is the color of brave.

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Writing in community with Tweetspeak Poetry.
Using a line from Peter Gizzi’s poem “Tiny Blast” as a poetry prompt.
Gizzi is author of In Defense of Nothing

By The Vine

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

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By The Vine


The image is haunting
Fresh ghosts, no old ghosts or past demons
More of a grey entanglement
Never was there a more perfect physical picture
Eerily beautiful
Twisted with potential
You, wrestling the old, welcoming the new
I, an admirer of your work
You, artist, sculpting out of brittle death
A place
For new life

The work is daunting
Man fighting nature, on the cusp of Spring, you take charge
More of a knight in shining armor
Never was there a more perfect image of you saving us
Brashly handsome
Plucked from a fairy tale
You, saving the day, battling the old enemies, ours and theirs
I, the princess, receiving the fruits of your labor
You, the warrior, slaying the dragons of what was before
A place
For new life

We had no choice in this tale of ours
Happily ever after
Comes to those
Who cut back

The vines that choke a life
You went in
Guns ablazing
And we ended up on top


Round and Round We Went

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

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Round And Round We Went

It looks like lunacy
This repeating of mistakes
And words, in the ditch, in the gutter, stuck in the groove of
Well intended emphasis
Pounding it out and dancing ’round

Peace comes in the dancing in circles like a spinning top only
If you are two in a tulle skirt
In the kitchen, giddy young
Drunk on air and youth

But we know it all and this and that and
A thing or two of circling round like fighters in the ring
Someone always gets bloodied up
Black eyes, the mark of the warrior who fought hard
No need for
White flags or olive branches, doves
Nothing stops us until we are down for the count
We lick out wounds, healing hidden in the tongue
The same one which spoke the wounds

But now the circle has been broken
I released you at last
You flew off straight and strong, headlong into the unknowing, surely you knew
Freedom came in the unfurling of my weary white knuckled boney hands

Now we dance, we are new and two again
Walking in a straight line, side by side

And I stand alone now
Circling the cross
Quiet warrior, retired from the ring

It looks like lunacy
To those who never knew

A quiet warrior, retired from the ring

Why, Poetry?

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

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Why, Poetry

This is not a poetic lamentation or woe is me diatribe
It is a soul itching, head scratching
Wondering the way wordsmith’s do, about the call to words, ya’ll

It is more or less why, poetry or why poetry
Splitting hairs and splicing sentences around, throwing comma’s about
Like confetti on Fifth Avenue after the parade

And you really do wonder, until you hear the rallying cry for more
Poetry
Hashtag’s come across your screen about the healing
A word was a balm
A sigh of knowing escapes your lips

You want to give a party
Celebrate the genre, kick up your heels and dance
Write the book in poetic prose
Kick the naysayers to the curb
Have you seen the poetry section in Barnes and Noble lately
Point
Counter point
That will rub salt in your, my wound
Think about starting a Kick Starter Campaign

And the world went blooming mad
Spun crazy wild,
And you got really mad
Frozen in fear, but for awhile
You heard people say press on with the passion
Bring on the light
Light up the dark
And all you could do was tap and write and write and tap and pray that beauty was birthed
And that the blasted book that haunts you by day
And by night
And by the way have I told you lately about that dream
You seem to be the first that should know

Why, poetry?
Brilliant choice for everyone but me
Now I am whining about my passion, my love

My poetry
If only for the hastag healing
I will continue to tap away and pray

Oh poetry, you are my cello
And my bass, my blessed curse
My gospel choir and my palette and paints
My novel and my charity
Muse come sit beside me, be the music my fingers long to hear

Poetry, my love
Make me worthy
Of you

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