Tag Archives: poetry

Journey with a drop of water

5 Apr

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Journey with a drop of water

in an ordinary stream on an ordinary farm.

Begin at the rusty barbed wire fence in the northeast section.

Consider tumbling, flowing,

floating, pooling, rippling,

swishing, swirling,

bank left

crashing, splashing,

bank right

movement through sunlight and shadow

embrace stones

waltz around pebbles

glide across sand

dive beneath limbs

carry fish

Emerge at the one land bridge.

Elizabeth Frazee  3-Apr-96 (WOW…20 years ago)

776013258407 copy

781443258407 copy


Elated with Eliot’s Elegant Book Review

15 Mar

I was so elated that I purchased I Ching: The Book of Change translated by David Hinton (new to me).  I am amazed that I found Eliot Weinberger’s review in my twitter feed.  Here is the link:


His review is comprehensive, concise and engaging.  My study of I Ching began 17 years ago preparing collage interpretations, followed by a lull, then re-engaged last year with photo interpretations posted in Elfcroft’s Friday Photos.

Here are some gems from Eliot’s review:

“it can explain everything”

“crucial words have no fixed meaning”

“Everything is connected.  Everything is in a state of restless change.”

“Chinese characters as ideas rather than words”

“Cosmic filing system”

“microcosm of Chinese civilization”

“tease the mind”

“read in an infinite number of ways”

………the possibilites…..:)

This time of year Flannel Sheets say…

9 Feb

Come to us,

Welcome, we are here for you.

Relax your head, your neck, your shoulders, your legs, arms, fingers and toes.

Warmth will soon surround and envelope you.

Nestle between us.

Quiet your thoughts.

Drift off to sleep, to dream.

Sooth your soul in the nest we create for you.

Peace be with you.

EF 6-Mar-99

Flash back, could have been yesterday

29 Sep

It was October 1995.

Walking to Meadow

Crrrrisssppcccrrracckllewwooosshh walking through autumn leaves.

Wide trail lined with small trees and undergrowth

Deep ruts from tractor tires

Adjacent to small irregular shaped fields for corn and soybeans

Winding stream with rocky bed to cross twice

The stream

The stream

Broad wings take hawk gliding above tree tops

A mossy granite block marks the place where a one room farm-house stood

I stopped near the end of the road by steep eroded bank

Observing bright afternoon sun’s reflection on a calm pool in stream

A cool gust of wind sends ripples across water

Twinkling stars appear on the surface

My destination is meadow bounded by tree covered ridges

Meadow with island of tulip trees

Tulip trees with bright yellow leaves

Tulip trees with brown flower pods pointed to clear blue sky

Elements earth and sky connect through trees

I found my connection with earth and sky walking to meadow

Elizabeth Frazee 15-Oct-1995

End of the lane

End of the lane


16 Apr


Ahh spring, clumps of daffodils are blooming in lawns in every direction.  Like a song that plays in your mind, the Wordsworth poem “I wandered lonely as a cloud” has been in my head.  When I did a Google search for the poem, I discovered it filmed to rap music in 2007.  A human performs it in a squirrel costume….really.  It is available on YouTube.  For me, this poem is better the old-fashioned way…..a classic from 1804.

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
  That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
  When all at once I saw a crowd,
  A host, of golden daffodils;
  Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
  Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

  Continuous as the stars that shine
  And twinkle on the milky way,
  They stretched in never-ending line
  Along the margin of a bay:                                  
  Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
  Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

  The waves beside them danced; but they
  Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
  A poet could not but be gay,
  In such a jocund company:
  I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
  What wealth the show to me had brought:

  For oft, when on my couch I lie
  In vacant or in pensive mood,                               
  They flash upon that inward eye
  Which is the bliss of solitude;
  And then my heart with pleasure fills,
  And dances with the daffodils.

Written by William Wordsworth
Spring mix

Spring mix