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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
You raised me up,
then brought me down.
In between we loved, fought and got caught
in one another’s web of insincerity and deep-felt need.
The spaces were filled with warmth, passion
and a chill that could turn your toes black.
I yearned for and felt your presence long after you were gone.
The after-effects of your rhetoric seeped into the contours of my brain;
influencing my thoughts and dictating my deeds.
You were in my life for a reason.
To teach me what I can do without and to--
damn it, I hate to admit this--
You taught me to love and think for myself.
I may have gone kicking and screaming as I learned to do this--
obstructing your wisdom and negating the power you had over me.
Today I am better off without you,
because I’m not the same me.
Thank you for helping me grow,
but no thank you for weaving yourself into my very being
to the point where I was no longer me.
The bottom dropped out.
The puzzle lost it’s pieces.
I had to reconfigure those pieces to fit into a whole new me.
The power of thought gives me the ability
to choose to take what moves me ahead
and disregard what keeps me still.
Thank you for being in my life,
because I wouldn’t be here without the good and the bad of you.
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
Stillness leads to another place.
Stop and notice.
I can get past the fear of what will be there.
Understanding and compassion of self and others,
an awareness of the sound of the walls coming down,
to reveal a more pliant world,
full to capacity with harmony, love and peace.
The flowers buzz with the promise of new growth.
The ions of the air tingle
in anticipation of what might happen next.
The world in it’s stillness offers endless possibilities
in the span of a second.
Why be afraid of what happens next.
You cannot stop the ebb and flow of life,
but you can get past being scared,
to be on the still shores of calm and serenity.
Stillness does lead to another place.
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
On the streets of Kamora,
a man sits at the Fountain of Angels,
eying the days offerings
which lie at the bottom
of the tepid water.
The man remembers when he was
one of the click clacking masses,
on their way to work,
in the Main Dome of Kamora,
ready to pass ordinances
which allowed dogs on leashes in the park,
bettering and improving the city,
keeping it cobblestones,
which were erected in eras past.
The man remembers losing his position
and being put on the street
because the cost of living in Kamora came too high.
He sits where he can,
sleeps where he can
eats what he can.
The underbelly of Kamora is paved with grease and dirt.
The great unwashed populate the parks at night.
No clickety clacks.
more ting tinging and swish swash.
The man notices all the details of Kamora,
what he was too busy to notice in “better” times.
The mosaics of the great buildings
with the echoes of it’s former prominence.
Not the tiles of the great shopping center
which resides in a newfangled
behemoth of a building.
The birds in the belfry
and still the click clacking of those who work.
The man swoops up a handful of silver and copper coins
and notices the faces of Kamora’s founders
on the bottom of the fountain.
Like an onion,
the city unfolds with new revelations,
while the man sits and waits,
watching the clickety clacks
and the ting tinging swish swashes.
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
My body,
ripe for the taking,
filled with shames voice.
Plunged into the fiery depths of self mutilation.
My sense of self lashes out, and when threatened,
curls inwards to my very core.
The stress creeps upwards,
as if failing to reach the freedom of a hill top
filled with weeping willows,
that sway with the loaded failures of my past.
Disintegration comes when I buckle under
the stress of reliving these failures.
My shoulders pull back and settle into my body
opening up vessels of hope.
I take one step at a time
as if walking the line of steadiness.
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
Family is always there.
Then it pulls away,
detaches and rips apart.
Lost with no anchor.
Alone.
No one cares.
It shows up with conditions
that are hard to meet.
I may lose myself.
I can’t get back that aspect of family that I lost,
but I can find myself again,
retrieve what is important.
I never went away.
I was always there.
I let myself vacate and I can let my self return,
stronger than ever,
determined and free.
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
A CARESSING HAND
Leather-tanned skin
Wrapped around bone
Soft in its intention
Enfolds another
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
TRANQUILITY
Totally abandoned
Reaching out
Against the wind
No one is there. A
Quickening heartbeat that is
Useless to calming me down.
Instead, I am sickened because
Love is not there and
Is buried in the rubble of
Tanks of tarnished memories. A
Yolk around my neck that drags me along.
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
TERROR
Traumatic injuries to the mind and body
Entering a sphere of darkness
Reruns play over and over
Re-setting the many moments
Of one’s reality
Recanting what was once said
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
BUCKET OF SHAME
They made it easier
Standing in a bucket of shame
To be washed of all their negativity
And born anew to a
Trowel of meaning
Sharing in a group
Our insides
Made complete and safe
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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Elizabeth Hipwell Poem
Dip your toes into the water.
Feel it splash.
Take the first step.
Aim your arms toward the heavens,
reaching beyond your boundaries to the other side.
Bend with precision.
On the count, fly to your destiny.
Trust that your body will take you there.
Trepidation ensues with stinging eyes,
tired muscles,
and adverse waves.
You can do it.
Whoosh!
You’re there.
*Inspired by A JOSEPH CAMPBELL COMPANION by Diane Osbon
Copyright © Elizabeth Hipwell | Year Posted 2010
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