Tag: Words

Catching Some Z’s

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

Today is Day 20. To  read the collective tiptoe over here for other words. Today’s word is Laughter. And Rest.  A double portion for your weekend.

Hope you are able to rest a bit in His Grace and Mercy this day and every day.Catch some Z’s and LAUGH.

Z’s

Z is zig zaggy.
Beats to his own drum.
With his horizontal, vertical, diagonal sweeps
Zooms in and out, looking for a word to join.
Poor Z, least used.
But Z can be so useful
Zipping up jackets, zesting lemons.
Z should zip his lips sometimes.
Gets too zealous and full of zeal.
Going on and on about zoology and zenzizenzizenzic.
Bragging about his membership in all those
Elite Greek clubs. Watch out Z.
There’s zeta phi and zeta mu and more.
Bu Z knows his place.
At the end of the line.
Hanging out.
‘Til he’s needed.

Catching some Z’s,  

Bring a gift of laughter, sing yourselves into his presence.

Proverbs 100:2

Joining Sandra today and a new friend, Cheryl.


Delicate Balance – Days 6 & 7

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Who has not lived that doesn’t know that dance, the one of in and out, a bob and a weave of a clumsy waltz. Like a prize fighter penned in the corner. The bob and weave in the ring of life. A punch, one two, of difficulty, pain.
Who is not part of this commonman, every man, every woman club, begun by Eve and Adam. Thank you very much.
Who does not struggle to make sense out of the hard and the rough, to soften them down and smooth them out with words and love.
Who has not found a limb or two, maybe all four tangled in a web, sticky, ensnaring our hearts our lives, in confusion and hurt.

And who has not cried out, flailing hands towards the heavens and yelled like a child in the throws of a tantrum at God and asked why?

Is there one who has not sought restoration and reconciliation from broken life, like shards of glass, shattered into pieces sharp, pieces which cut through, bleeding life drips droplets puddle.

It is all that He wants to mend the cut, and cup the chin, and wipe the tear.

It is what He longs to do for child of Eve and Adam too. To mend, restore, the balance so delicate. The delicate pieces and places, He knows.

And in the wailing and crying there is Hope. And when the relationship slips to a place where balance is lost, like life’s level and equilibrum hang in the loss of balance.

Think on these things. Rest in His arms. And look to the Restorer to re-order, rebuild and realign.

The Carpenter, Builder, The Restorer of Hope, Rebuilder of Lives,

The Delicate Restorer of Balance, He mends the lives of the broken.

What Amazing Grace, what Amazing Grace indeed.

Writing in community today with Deidra and The Nester for the continuing series of 31 Days of Wonderful Words.

This is Day 6 and Day 7 of the 31 Day Series which we are a part of at The Nester’s. There a community of bloggers is writing for 31 days in October. If you would like to back journey on this blog and read previous posts in the series please do. Previous posts have included Ordinary, Savor, Hope, The Poetic, and Dancing.

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Dancing – Movement of the Heart (Day 5)

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 9 Comments


Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire.

Robert Frost

Dance – Movement of the Heart

Elizabeth W. Marshall

If only all would dance. Simply, a little more.
As shadows, sun’s rays, and white foam waves,
Their rhythmic breaking in and on the shore.
What a gentle teacher ocean is.
Of how to find your rhythm, how to learn to dance.
Water, foam and wave thrust on shelly sand.
The dance of wave on wave, eyes Beauty from the shore.

And we think far too often to save it for the feasts.
For man to do a pas de deux when woman dresses up for out.
But what of the dance of the everyday, the simple celebrations.
Of life and living, joy in the daily, movement becomes art.
And what of running fingers down the page, and letting words join in.
The dance of wordplay, phrase finds rhythm on the page,
Partners up with thought and steps from line to line, a dance.

What if words would partner with the heart, to do a dance of lyrical  along
The lines of prose, does it become poetic and more a jig with steps more
Light and gay, where space is left so eyes can linger, breathing soft and slow.
Creates a space for eyes and hearts to partner up with mind, and waltz and
Sway, no need to rush, the pace is slow, the soul can take her time.
The pace of living can slow and savor, seeking steps which linger,
Long and longer, sweet and merry, hurry left behind.

And do we long to dance, because so early on we did, swayed and rocked as babies
The motion taught so young, to drift and sway and rock and sing, why leave that
Back in childhood. Can’t every movement restore Dance, isn’t life worth dancing truly?
Find steps light and graceful, feasting on the now, with song, and grateful pairing up
As happy partners, loving life and dancing in the moment.
Learning from trees their limbs sway, the tails of dog, like metronome have rhythm.
If only all would simply dance, a little more when living.

(Thank you for joining me on this 31 Days – A Series of Words. This is the Part 5 in the series. Other posts have included Ordinary, Savor, Hope, and The Poetic if you would like to back travel and read. Grateful to have you journeying with this pilgrim.) Note, in crediting Robert Frost’s quote on dance and my subsequent piece, I have placed my name beside my writing. Please know this is for clarification simply and that I highly esteem Robert Frost’s work and feel humbled to even be on the same page. This was to give credit, no form of comparison. Please note this, and extend grace for any wrong association or comparison which was never intended. Thanks, for grace. –Elizabeth.

The Poetic, Day 4 (Part 1)

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 9 Comments

Its a challenge,

issued from me to me

let’s not see what Webster says,

we dare not look to a boxed, canned definition of this of all things, though many do and that’s fine too,

it is the first cousin of freedom,

that’s enough for now,

no,

we’ll open the window to the soul and listen for how the heart defines it, what it says

 how it shapes,

with blood, and those pulsing veins, with bone and marrow tacked on too

and flesh, the skin, the cover

the words, they walk out like happy preschool

little ones at recess filled with  pregnant wonder of  running free

oh how they will run when the heavy school door opens and out they go.

the words, they wait on you,

come play, and bring your finest whimsy with you,

come dance, bring your dancing shoes,

we will breathe and I will wait

I will wait  and we will  pause

period

And understanding, heart and mind

and art , they will collide

down the playground slide

one atop another

into a heap of joy- squeeling, happy, word joy

they land, so soft.

And at the bottom

they are there

the words.

pick them up, dust them off,

and glean the poetic from the pile,

of words.

And if you find the thrill too short, that slide it always is

then get in line,

and down you go,

flailing, joy-filled down you go,

its at that bottom that you breathe,

and take a lingering look back up

at how you held your breath, and fully llived

whizzed right down

the short,

exhilaration

that was

the poem.