Sub-Liminality
never-never land
of premonitions
whispers of the soul
almost precursors
imperceptible
~~~
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Liminal
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
Tag: Vulnerability
November 19, 2016
Ostentatious Leaders
Ostentatious Leaders
preen before Desperate Adoring Citizens
clothing each other in superlatives
one flimsy piece at a time.
Has it become impolitic to tell the truth?
Or is it fear?
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Ostentatious
October 26, 2016
Queen for a Day Bans
I hate the word ‘banned’
My father was the King of Bans
My life as a child was ruled by Bans
My father’s list of Thou shalt Nots
conveniently fenced me in
and robbed evil of its hate-filled power
Wrong!
A thousand times wrong!
The wrong on the tip of my tongue
The wrong in the imaginations of my heart
The wrong in my never-delivered tirades
The wrong my father, and then I did to my body and soul
Haunts me seven decades later
I’m a Queen
though not by succession
I sometimes proclaim myself Queen
Crown myself and decide for myself
What I will and will not do or say
In the secret places of my mind and heart
from which I banned my father
I hereby proclaim myself Queen for a Day
And designate my personal bans for this day–
The 103rd anniversary of my deceased father’s birth
I hereby ban
self-neglect of my female body and soul
that minimizes its need to be respected and cared for
as a gift entrusted to me by God
I hereby ban
All assumptions about my father
Including whether he would or would not
accept my forgiveness
Finally, I hereby ban
Any shred of fear or self-righteousness
That keeps me from opening my heart
to God’s overwhelming love and acceptance of me.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 October 2016
Photo of my father, maternal grandfather, mother and me, 1943/44
WordPress Daily Prompt: Banned
October 23, 2016
The Star’s whole Secret —
Stars over Lake Irene, Rocky Mountain National Park, Erik Stensland Photo
For over a month I’ve been going back to this poem from Emily Dickinson, trying to figure it out. Sometimes I think I get it. Other times I feel like giving up. My comments follow.
The Outer – from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude –
‘Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood –The fine – unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel –
Though Spokes – spin – more conspicuous
And fling a dust – the while.The Inner – paints the Outer –
The Brush without the Hand –
Its Picture publishes – precise –
As is the inner Brand –On fine – Arterial Canvas –
A Cheek – perchance a Brow –
The Star’s whole Secret – in the Lake –
Eyes were not meant to know.c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
The first few times I read this poem I wanted it to say something like this: Read the rest of this entry »
October 18, 2016
The Waiting Room
Body parts visible and invisible
Come and go like clockwork
Silently seek relief
My eyes wander
Linger on each bundle of hope
Dreaming of a better tomorrow –
The way things used to be
Tomorrow morning, Wednesday, I’ll be back in the waiting room Read the rest of this entry »
September 25, 2016
For the rest of my life….
What will I do with the rest of my life?
Weeks ago my pastor preached a sermon on this. The topic was both amusing and serious. Amusing because there isn’t that much left of ‘the rest of my life.’ Read the rest of this entry »
September 23, 2016
What kept me afloat?
~~~~~Floating blossoms in an urn at Chanticleer Gardens, Sept 2016
After reading my dream, a friend asked this question: “What has already been keeping you afloat?”
I’m not drowning in the dream, though I fear some monster lurking beneath the surface might make a meal of me. Instead, it seems I’ve been floating on the Yangtze River for a while, perhaps more than 70 years. Read the rest of this entry »
September 11, 2016
A Blank Canvas Reimagined
I can’t get A Blank Canvas out of my mind. Sometimes, especially with distressing or puzzling dreams, I’ve written the next scene out as I imagine it might be. But this dream was different. Here’s what I’ve written instead–
No woman is an island….
Gentle swells of water
Calls from seabirds
The sounds of waves
Lap against my ears
Tree leaves rustle
The greatest adventure of my life
In the company of others
Keeping it simple
Floating in deep waters
Singing life with my words Read the rest of this entry »
September 8, 2016
Much Madness is divinest Sense —
Here’s another gem from Emily Dickinson, along with my personal response below.
Much Madness is divinest Sense –
To a discerning Eye –
Much Sense – the starkest Madness –
‘Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail –
Assent – and you are sane –
Demur – you’re straightway dangerous –
And handled with a Chain –c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
Dear Emily,
Please forgive me for barging in. You don’t know me and I don’t know you personally. Still, your poetry challenges me to think deeply. This one, in particular, brings me comfort Read the rest of this entry »
September 1, 2016
Rain
Rain drops
on drenched ground
eyeglasses, face
and heart
Cracks loom
in un-even pavement
Tears spring unbidden
Artesian wells overflow
Unnoticed
I walk through this cold front
of memories, grief and healing
***
This morning I walked as usual Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 