Posts Tagged #iphone shots
Rivers
Posted by Elaine Olund in creative writing, photography on November 23, 2014
Rivers
There’s a river in my
November sky—
a river of fathomless blue
sweeping between
ice-crusted snowdrift clouds
floating high
over bare-armed trees
and bare-armed people.
My teeth crunch an apple
my feet crunch leaves as
Monday’s snow melts into
tiny sidewalk rivelets.
A boy zigzags the lawn
hunting acorns he trades
for tired smiles from his mother.
Love flows like a river, unstopping.
Why wait?
Posted by Elaine Olund in creative writing, photography on November 19, 2014
Why wait?
Why wait for inspiration to appear,
surging onto your page like a whitecap
gliding over the sand
salty, foaming with words
Why wait, when outside the wind sings
naked trees wave their long arms,
even their sturdy trunks sway, drunken
Why wait, when the clouds above
skate across the cold sky
like children sliding on ice
Why wait, when the house seems to have weighed anchor,
rocking with every gust, creaking like an old boat
setting off on a choppy uncharted sea
Aftermath
Posted by Elaine Olund in creative writing, photography on November 15, 2014
Aftermath
I feel like a river
so full I might overflow my banks
for years, so dry, now I am water, falling—
falling like the ginkgo leaves,
that lie scattered like footprints on the sidewalk,
so rain-slicker yellow, they are wet, oh
I had such a fever, once
I was empty as an old Halloween pumpkin,
scraped, drying, dry inside,
dying I was dying, I was lying
on my back, floating on the current
so hot the water sizzled when it touched my skin
I floated so long
hypnotized by love and the sky and
the fever’s fire
Once I was a wound, bleeding
Now I am welling up vivid as blood—
maybe I could be that red rose, blooming,
trembling in November’s
sharp teeth
Indiana Sunset, November 10
Posted by Elaine Olund in creative writing, photography, travel on November 11, 2014
the start of a poem:
driving home from Indiana
sunset blazing an orange goodbye
contrails crisscrossing the deepening sky
speeding through billows of dust
from the seed corn being processed
by harvesters crawling the darkening fields
Pendleton, Eden, Maxwell, tiny towns
brick houses, bonfires blazing in backyards,
November leaves burning, summer burning
up ahead, a great pyramid of golden kernels,
oh, how they glow, under sodium vapor lamps
such a harvest, this year, such a farewell
Vibrations
Posted by Elaine Olund in creative writing, photography on November 8, 2014
Vibrations
I read today that
four hundred forty beats per second
equals the note called “A”
I thought of you, of resonance,
of tiny ear bones trembling with words
of the resounding delight of being heard
How the word ‘vibrant’
rings like a bell of poured molten
bronze, cast
cast like a spell, pure magic
syllables sometimes sing like plucked strings
music of minds in tune
Falling
Posted by Elaine Olund in Uncategorized on November 2, 2014
I am a leaf, falling,
surrendering,
I will not cling,
like a mitten on a clip—
No, I’ll flutter like a bird
float through this
dizzy blue forever
fall freely
letting go, or
winter will never come
and if winter never comes
spring will never bloom
I am a leaf, falling.
Spellbound
Posted by Elaine Olund in creative writing, photography on October 30, 2014
My poor feet cannot stop
bewitched, like in a fairytale, cursed:
they cannot stop, so I walk and walk and walk
as if my head is no longer in charge
as if my heart might burst from
beating and beating and beating
This golden hour: cresting the hill
breathing molten light and
air electric between twin storms
air so clear it crackles in my lungs
Was I sleeping too long?
Where am I?
A wolf’s dogging my footsteps,
I hear him, throaty and relentless
breathing and breathing and breathing
maybe I’ve wandered into another realm?
Even my shadow, once so faithful, has turned away
nothing is the same anymore.