Category Archives: My Poetry

“Give us This Day Our Daily Meds” #NationalPoetryMonth

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April is National Poetry Month. Some people are writing a poem a day. Others are carrying poems in their pockets. I can’t promise I’ll be able to write a poem every day. But what I can promise is an increased awareness and mindfulness of the daily poetry and beauty all around me.

I like writing poetry because the medium is more conducive to capturing feeling and images–the little threads of daily existence, sometimes overlooked in the larger fabric of my life. These fleeting thoughts, images and feelings don’t fit well inside a blog post or journal entry. But I love the exercise of jotting images down, especially if I can rhyme the words!

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I’ve written a few poems this past week–short little things tapped out on my InstaQuote app. I’ve posted them on my Instagram (@elizabethesther) and thought I’d share them here, too. Would you like to join me in a month of poetry? Jot down some everyday words, images from your day, the feelings you felt. Let yourself relax into the words. No striving. No pressure.

To get started, might I suggest a little inspiration? I simply LOVE this book, “Poemcrazy: freeing your life with words” and have pulled it out again this past week to refresh my wonder.

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And now, a few of my  poems from this past week.

April 2: “Tomboy” (this is a tribute to one of my 6 year old twins)

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April 3: “Laundry Day for Thoughts” (I do so much laundry. I began wondering: what if we could wash our thoughts like we wash our dirty clothing?)

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April 5: “Daring, Thirteen, You” (written in honor of my son’s 13th birthday)

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April 5: “First Communion” (written in honor of my daughter’s upcoming baptism)

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Filling the Quiet [a poem]

After bringing Jude home from the hospital, I had a panic attack. For me, there is no worse feeling than watching one of my children suffer. It is a desperately helpless feeling. I was so scared. What if he died? What if he faints again? I have no control! I calmed myself by listening to poetry. And then I wrote a poem. This poem may seem morbid to you but I was so soothed in the writing of it. This poem reminds me that even in the wake of terrible things, there are little tasks that sometimes tether us to sanity and help us go on.

Filling the Quiet

And after the cacophony there descended
a holy quiet.
Fain would I desecrate it with words–
I did the daily, ordinary tasks of making bed and sweeping floor.
These are the things I still must do
even if I’m losing you.

EE, 2.21.13

Precious Ointment

I have wasted my alabaster soul on you
and do not regret one mite.
Though to you it was nothing
to me, it was never trite.

     I poured out all, gladly.

Even if now forsaken, I am love’s widow.

it wasn’t meant to be this way

me you everything falling apart late now why?
after all this work, this too, too solid flesh
it eats at us.
addiction
a dirty word, a dirtier secret
absurd
I’ve tried to walk the straight and narrow
falling faster, falling sparrow
it ate you up, mauling marrow.
And you presumed
me always covering your dirty tracks
I won’t regret the giving I gave
the saving you, save this.
This road. You paved.
It is not mine to walk.

Sometimes walking away
is the only way to say
i love you.

[update: this poem isn't about me, in case you were worried. :) i wrote it for a friend who is going through a difficult time and whose strength and beauty in the midst of pain inspired this poem.]

Persephone’s Bower

I will not go,
I will not go,
though you plead me, pleading low.
Though the church bells in their ringing
heaven promise, angels singing.
I will not tell,
I will not tell,
though I know the story well.
Though my heart in silence waning
beats a tune, my conscience
staining.
Come with me,
Come with me,
take me down to that dark bower.
Past the Styx and past the tower,
there it blooms
Persephone’s flower.
Ah, there we’ll rest
’til Earth’s last hour.

By: Elizabeth Esther
October 2, 2011

All Our Knowing

How does killing
avenge a killing
or hitting
rectify the blow?
How does willing
redeem free willing
is this the only way we know?

Now the gloaming dusk
is falling
briny tide is rolling out.
Can you hear the darkness calling,
can you taste its loaming doubt?

Trust our word, The Word, the Word
this they say to us–absurd.
Can’t they see our hearts now glowing,
emptied all of all our knowing?

By: Elizabeth Esther
October 1, 2011

This post is part of the 31 Days linkup hosted by thenester.com

Tinkle-Winkle Near The Sinkle

I tinkle-winkled near the sinkle.
But if I hide unduh da potty for a blinkle,
She won’t notice I been naughty–
ya thinkle?

{if you wikes me, I gots my own Twitter! Fowwow me @DarbaLish p.s. if I poops on yo wawn, ma mommas gonna picks it ups, k? k!}

Broken for you

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You Gibraltar and I–the battering waves,
I fling myself against you–the shattering saves.

You delight in sacrifice–love broken in by pain,
Too late I rue, regret the marring stain.

Still.

I scan the stony edge of your impenetrable face,
And bury myself in the mausoleum of
                                              your indifferent embrace. 

Elizabeth Esther
10/19/10 

Typographer

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You are draped in a festoon of years
            weighted with chronicles, tomes, indexes.

And I am the repository of your stories
            an empty cistern you fill up with all your fullness.

You spill children and I shed them
            tangles of words, yours and mine rearranged.

We are cocoon weavers, gossamer strand splitters
        molting fonts and glyphs; our very own typeface.

Did you ever imagine it would be
                      such exquisite agony?

EE, 11.20.09