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Best Poems Written by Marla Erselius

Below are the all-time best Marla Erselius poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

The Hole In the Wall

The Hole in the Wall


I came around the corner
In my dining room entrance. then
Just to my left arm there was the
Hole in the wall.
In an instant, I recalled seeing the
Hole in the wall.
Dare I now peek?
When I was a little one
It was smaller then and so was I,
But still, it was the
Hole in the wall.

I looked into the
Hole in the wall
But it was so low on the wall,
All I saw was a pinch of light.
Now on the other side of the
Hole in the wall
Was the kitchen. it had its own
Hole in the wall
That matched the
Hole in the wall
In the dining room.

Come with me if you dare.
I have seen much to see in the
Hole in the wall.
What I have imagined in the
Hole in the wall
Is mine inside my mind-living,
So now you look see whats
To be seen in the
Hole in the wall
For splendor awaits you patiently.
Gaze, let one eye be merry.
Sideways, other eye picks up fish-eye
Drawings from the
Hole in the wall.
Blink, and whichever eye
Could miss the gloriest of all;
The white tunnel never ending
Leading you through the
Hole in the wall.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Hell Is Open

Hell is Open


Doors  closed behind them.
Inside, malevolent minds lurked.
In places only read about. Or knew of.
Pedophile pollution was rampant.
Vile male figures threw cloaks of prostitution
On children. Innocent, brainwashed.
Trust was taught.

Five years young, seven, ten.
Church basements, rooms of nastiness.
Children raped, sodomized.
Returned to class, the playground.
Lunch went sour.
Childhood was threatened. Set aside.
Heinous abuse of God's little ones.

These priests said Mass, gave communion,
Heard confessions of other's sins.
How about their confessions of desecration?
Sex with a nine month old baby!!??!!?!!!?!!!!
Me: Frozen.
Tears flowing, heart aching.
Revolted, inflamed as a burning Hell,
Disgust ever being a catholic.

These sleazeballs punishment: jail?!!;
A choking smack on his collar, no less.
Properly, castration would be just.
They're crawling all over the world.
A sickening virus that won't desist.
Filthy hands on small bodies.
Looking up to their kindness,
Blown words spit into Satan's cloak.
Opening their costumed arms to praise God.
Where was God?

Dig a deep hole,
Scrape their sickness in.
Not enough money to ease victim's pain.
Their smiles wiped into fright.
Oliver O'Grady shipped overseas;
Continues his disease.
Death in a sea of flames?
Hell will welcome them all.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Visions

Visions


The trail failed into a single wavy vision,
Sideswiped by jingles racing faster than us.
Shortly ahead were cut-out caves.
We rested.
Closed our red puffed eyes.
Dreamed of what might be real.
Scintilating. glistening silver-toned baubles.
In our hands, bunches of orange daisies--
Wilted, dried and breaking off petals onto ivory toned sand.
We buried them.

We put the baubles to bed.
Our dreams became faux genuine.
We watched what followed.
Heavy drops of red hot desert water
Making deep holes on each side of us
Just missing our sun drenched legs.
Out of the cave, yellow snakes with mahogany stripes
Slowly bounced out of our dreams into our hands.
Could we actually hold them, here in the dreams?
We did.

Reaching for some petals,
They smelled good.
We dreamt of smoking them.
I laughed and laughed at him.
In his funny delight, he pounced out of the cave,
Danced up and down on the red hot sand.
He laughed and laughed until my belly laughs
Pushed me onto the cave's side.
The sand covered me as I continued laughing.
He jumped into the next faux cave
And laughed as we both were covered
With the ivory sand.....except our faces. no doubt.

We envisioned all around us-----horses,
Paint horses with riders from long ago.
They had red paint on their faces,
More colorful and brighter than ours.
Their headdresses carried feathers of eagles.
Our respected laughing was joined in by them.
In their hands were more colorful pipes and the smoke
Swirled all around us and the caves and them.
We all laughed till we were hungry.
We all sat and roasted hot dogs....and introduced ourselves.
Dreams were set aside.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

The Lady

The Lady



In a town that stretches eleven blocks
There is a girl who walks just on one side.
She peeps into seven stores
Along her way. 
Just on one side of town.
There is the other side, of course.
She hesitates. 
She has missed her most favorite of wardrobe dressings;
Blue pumps, sparkles under latex,
Sold the day before.  Her size.

I see her on Saturdays,
Sow steps on the other side, of course.
She hasn't a clue of my presence.
Keeping my distance
Makes me more inquisitive--
Who she is, where she lays her head.
Where the peanut shells have fallen.
Walking in winter and summer,
A black parasol carried high.

I see her crossing the long bridge,
Black heels worn on all days I've seen her.
They might get caught in sidewalk cracks.
At least not that I've seen just yet.
She is tall and thin,
Dressed in black is her specialty.
I wonder if leggings would suit her.

On this chilly day
I saw her enter the Velvet Glove.
That was not out of character, no doubt.
Two minutes later, she left.
Amazingly, I saw her enter the pet shop.
Minutes later, she exited.
A black toy poodle scampering ahead
On a long leash that disappeared
Around the turn on the next block. 

A duo they were.
Walking a little uniquely now.
No need to pry any longer.
No reason to stare.
A smile instead of a frown graced her face.
The slender lady and her toy poodle
Walking ahead, not behind.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Drought

Drought



She is not amazed but softly petrified
By pieces of scattered, scantily unknown bits of filaments.
She seems wooed into what can't possibly be;
The job of growing up.
Pleading, grasping for the next unknown leap towards safety;
Security to hold on to.

Change the attitude:
Desperately squinting through fogged windows of tomorrows.
Where?
Where is she?
Here, here I say.....I am here; just faded and worn.
How invalid, how tedious, take a chance, though.
What the hell can be lost; only a last remainder.
Don't flinch for purposes important.
I'm greedy for the next day.
is there any pleasure,
Is there really any care?
The grey drought has to end someday.
Can I shower my faith, my beliefs, my strong will,
My wondrous optimism?

Ah, then the rainbow glows, yet unseen, yet.....
Oh but I can imagine where it will end;
For a beginning has already blossomed.
The itching for hope that never knew tomorrow,
That never knew me,
Will someday ease with timidity.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Weathered Windows

Weathered Windows


Savor the meadow as far as eyes grasped;
Wildlife walk gingerly;
Walked behind them, nodded.
Purple and orange wildflowers
Just didn't fit.
Twenty one posts with mildew
Surrounded the thrown out periwinkles;
Left their fate to cover a virgin path.
A path followed by newly dismissed seeds, pods;
Shown with individuality.
Brown, stiff stalks topped with feathers.
Where did the passion fall away.
With gusto and charms, looked high and blinked.
Imagine so.
Sharpened vision chased the clues;
Brought them closer, fractured two or three.
Saw a wood pile stacked
Oh so crookedly yet seasoned for the coming cold snaps:
Carried two by two, four by five bundles.
Took only two to stack back away.
Cellar doors, grey colored, worn away
Weathered down to the granny apple color
Which, by the way, wasn't  so offensive at all.
Known by those passed to another time;
Not to be abandoned nor evicted.
Gave faith with brilliant touches;
Gven to those with arms held out.
To envelop with the reached up hope
To culminate what was a yesterday, then.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Night and Forest

Night and Forest


This june night it was brighter than my bedroom.
The silvery lit rock in the forest
Was glittering like my stickers
In my scrapbook.
The forest was dense, deeper than I could see.
The road was close by with crosswalks
And blinking lights
When someone wanted to get to the other side.
The other side had a path through the other side 
Of the forest.

This night the moonlit forest
Outside my bedroom window
Picked out the croaking frogs,
Shone on their backs.
Their spikes lit up like the backs of their eyes.
Croak. croak. calling for a mate.
Their feelers left uncompromised
Yet with each beck and call
The frogs necks
Blew up big and ugly.
This night, they are alone.

This night, I sat a long time
By my window.
It was dark inside me.
It was darker behind me.
I wanted to go into the forest,
Walk with snakes moving faster
Down the path that led out.
Reaching for the long lost cries
I once shed so privately,
Not at arm's length, not there any more,
They've been swallowed up,
Sunk deep into the forest floor.
Catch a moonbeam, catch my new life.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Beyond

Beyond



I shall die in bluejeans
And have nails as red as hell and 
Be all frizzed and unkempt.
I shall look plain with a plain face and
My tennis shoes will travel me far and fast.
My eyes will see what I've never had a chance to see.
My mind and hands will reach down and
Clench ugliness and properly dispose of it.
I've had enough...
Pass it on and
Let them fight it.

Ghastly dreams.
Spit in my eye.
You can give me back if you wish.
Chase down the hate;
Trample it, smash it and
Bury it.
Angry days and nights, so enrich tomorrow and
Kill the cancer.
Oh, someday, I'll write of peace,
Of joy, of me being me and
Liking it.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Half of Winter

Half Of Winter



In one corner of town,
A hidden piece of river sparkles.
Patches of ice give it balance.
Sun lighting just right
Gives a feeling of warmth.
But no, it is still so very cold.
An eagle lands on a floe.
Patiently waiting for the right fish meal.

Stripped branches from maples
Make up a puzzle in the water.  
Give it a try.
Click.  A pic of a twisted tree
How it grew here is a mystery.
I sit and watch the sunlight changes;
Creating angles as time slides by.
On the opposite bank, all snow and ice,
No designs.  No snowangels.
Nothing to piece together.

The snowfall later tonight
Will most certainly
Change the puzzle outlook.
Change in the river is meant to be
This time of the year.
Across the river
In the coming spring,
Wildflowers so lucky to sprout;
Colors to add dimension,
Walks along the path.

The snow has fallen.
So much on the pines
Beyond my back yard.
Bursts of wind and
It strips some pines naked.
So much snow has fallen.
The icycles are growing inches by days;
Three feet for one on a corner eve.
To the eye, it seems so heavy.
Clear and still.

Details | Marla Erselius Poem

Unfulfilled Dark

Unfulfilled Dark



I tried to bring the flowers indoors.
Clouds dark hid the sun. 
The darkness overtook my movement.
No stepping. not one would move.
Frozen.  I lay there, right side first.   Frozen.
It was the beginning. Another bright season----for me?
Not I. 

It was dark. It was dark through new specs, through one bare window.
The tears fell easily. Darker, yes
Into the white covered pillow.
God, where is the newness? 
Spring brings newness. Spring allows all to open wide, to make a smile.
That's what the calendar shows.
The darkness overtook my movement.
God has hidden my newness. Why.

The flowers have withered.
The buds dead.
Darkness shadows as an umbrella
Hovering complete.
No flowers for my tisket, my tasket.
Not the blue one I chose a long time ago.
Just more pillows to soak up the tears,
Boxes of tissues I chose for this time.
Dark remains. Dark continues.