•March 5, 2017 • 1 Comment

When I am alone
I clench tightly to the nothing
I Am
what I seek
have left
within, gnarled and knotted driftwood thoughts
Pine, the fear of being lost
The Ancient
I Am
I ever was

–Elisabeth Connelley


To Drop

•July 4, 2015 • 2 Comments

i sit
looking out
of a window
fine rain drawing lines
from the sky
drips drop falling
from single sand-cherry leaves
also to the ground
one here
one there
does the rain decide
where to fall
does the drop choose
when to let go
does it consider
or does it simply do as it is meant
to do
and fall
is it directed beyond itself
by the flowing Tao

do i worry myself about lists and inventories and intent
do i fill my time with lists of pains

may i stop looking for what is wrong
and stop trying to make it right
and simply be

I wonder if it is too much to ask to simply notice the simply being
the drips singing
to the ground.
–elisabeth connelley


•January 22, 2015 • 1 Comment

snow snow
snow snow……snow
snow snow
listen to the scuffle of the shovel
the skitter crack scattering salt
sizzle melting
steam rising
from tea

–elisabeth connelley

On a Winter Morning

•January 13, 2015 • 1 Comment

noticing the rosy rim
a round thing
draws my eye

creamy whites and gray shaded stone
hefty thick-rimmed glass
comfortably cradling
precious and fertile

of summer past
holding seeds
of basil
yet to come

–elisabeth connelley

Early Winter Noise

•November 23, 2014 • 1 Comment

waking to quiet
not yet dried glazed doughnut thick coated
sidewalks and roads

slurping tea
taking breathing treatment
watching as if
waiting for

even the birds
their breaths and tapping pecks

a crow scolds
an errant fat splatting drip drop of rain
daring to fall from a branch

then silence returns

–elisabeth connelley

I Follow My Eyes, She Said

•October 19, 2014 • 2 Comments

Dirty Keys
A Round Red Pot
Cobalt Blue glimpsing out from behind Ruffled Curtain
I follow my eyes, she said
Soft yellow lamp light, from an old right bulb
Pooling on Deep Orange Red and Almond Blossom
Fabric covered seat
In the corner
I follow my eyes, she said
Discarded Cane
Three styles of shoes
Steady now
Dried Red leaf long straight stem
Propped and top tipped over
At right angle to worn baseboard
Where it fell

–elisabeth connelley

Trapped or Protected

•April 23, 2014 • 1 Comment

Breaking with my own manner here. I wrote this poem listening to the music in the following video. I think, that for me, it’s part of the poem itself. I did NOT make the music. I only felt it. It felt me. Promoted an expression in the moment.

enclosed in your fist
i was safe
what if
i feel abused
and then you sigh
and you carefully open a space between two fingers
and i peer out
and i see
that I am being
in the light
of the sun
there is no ground beneath me
there is no where to run
there is not yet
any safe space
to be put down
–elisabeth connelley

I forgot somehow to run and to play around and around, up and then down laughing at you watching me as the flame rises and I float off in union. Maybe I can remember how. Please forgive me. I cannot forgive myself. At least…not yet.