The flow of creativity within me propels my pen and keyboard to sing phrases often accompanying my art pieces.
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” Leonardo da Vinci
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” Leonardo da Vinci
CONTEMPLATIONS
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The Metronome’s Tangled Beat of Covid19 the tangled beat of the Covid 19 brought a pandemic quite obscene Coronavirus a new kind of plague our attentions to health are certainly not vague the metronome beats the numbers of cases how many ventilators in our databases the metronome beats the numbers of deaths how many souls with very few breaths the pulsing beat with throbbing questions inquiries no answers but lots more questions tangled thoughts raveled emotions our psyche unbalanced with trembling tensions our lives have changed with this quarantine a clouded unknown in this labyrinthine in a time warp we’re muddling though in a daze our equilibrium askew light and sunshine at the end of the tunnel this winter or the ‘21st autumnal we’re waiting to hug to kiss to caress yes we will emerge from this wilderness the metronome’s tangled beat of Covid19 coats an upside down world with a viral screen Elsa Wachs © 2020 Patience Lost oh, patience I have been tested worried I have failed lost equilibrium perhaps demented would an mri show my veins running cold my pores prickly o aptitude for math science forget but life’s challenges I’m in tow calm a moderate temperament situations taken in stride wrestling with rage my vision is blurred slammed with incompetence or my perception thereof risen to a level of incompetence or have I surely a character exam before the Almighty I plead still trying I’m a a work in progress Elsa Wachs © 2011 Birds Social Distance sadness enveloping our vast globe Covid19 pulses like a frightening strobe even the birds social distance no mingling what kind of existence tho natural for our feathered friends its not for us humans to comprehend blanketed choked by the Corona invasion smothering masks muffled conversation how many more months when will this end yet wrens and robins fly and sing telling us the joy the morrow will bring Elsa Wachs © 2020 Show Us words, words, words we’re so sick of words* we get words all day through first from congress, now from you is that all you citizens can do? we petitioned and lobbied as our kin disembodied dems g.o.p.s - heads in the sand is that U.S. liberty’s new brand? Columbine Aurora Sandy Hook Virginia Tech Vegas — calamitous Parkland Pittsburgh El Paso Charlottesville Dayton —blasphemous show us don’t talk amendment etched in our soul if you’re responsible show us tell us no tales filled with cliches our children are dying what’s the delay? Columbine Aurora Sandy Hook Virginia Tech Vegas — calamitous Parkland Pittsburgh El Paso Charlottesville Dayton —blasphemous show us bullets exploding the U.S. in rage we’re sick of the news on the paper’s front page the situation’s deploring mental health needs exploring we hurt we mourn don’t alibi Is this America? why? Columbine Aurora Sandy Hook Virginia Tech Vegas — calamitous Parkland Pittsburgh El Paso Charlottesville Dayton —blasphemous show us priests ministers mullahs rabbis please where is your fervent outcry? Is violence as American as apple pie? Elsa Wachs © 2013 / 2019 |
Mourning our Losses or Is America Humpty Dumpty Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall who what wall Trump's Mexican wall ooh Trumpty Dumpty when will you fall the Lady continually reverberates- ”Give me your masses yearning to breathe free..”. something important to articulate wouldn’t you agree Cruel Trumpty again at his golf resort no help coming from our highest court while those seeking refuge put out a plea children-- CAGED--crying “mama” on bended knee now her dim lamp flickers at our un-golden rusted door what worth the US promise even at a discount store along came a virus it spread far and wide Dr. Fauci told us how many more will die Trumpty Dumpty merely said its a hoax he shrugged as he spoke- I don’t care if they croak Trumpty-king’s henchmen gave him a green light: sell Democracy, burn it up at 412 fahrenheit we are mourning the loss of American culture the heart-empty-Trump-team tears our flag like a vulture they’re making old glory ungloriously tattered can we pick up the pieces of America shattered Elsa Wachs © 2020 Bound to Be Free i sit here reading reading the same words i have read for so many years some i know some very familiar i am told to read silently i am told to read aloud the words bind me i am bound by these words these are not my words i want to say something i say nothing i am bound by the past i am bound to the generations that came before me i am overcome by a sense of belonging i am bound to the words they give me a reason for being they bind me and yet , i feel free free to pray free to pray in my own way. Elsa Wachs © 1996 Rite of Passage to my grandmothers Esther and Eva who came to the United States during the wave of immigration in the late 1880s waters murky, dark and deep curling waves spray pearls of hope prospect possibility piercing rain drops fall like opals clear long, interminable days longer cold dank nights days filled with frightening loneliness tempered by sweet expectations sounds of sobbing chanting davening in deep reverie caressing tiny precious prayer books, a life line boxes bundles knapsacks grips stuffed with bits and pieces mostly memories survival kits young mothers uprooted infants at their breast ashen bewildered children cling to mothers’ skirts old women young girls leaving homes their roots for what the dawn enchants luring them from the bowels of the ship they come spellbound these females in profusion press their way to see a lady majestic bedecked in billowing briny robes she lights their way her garb encrusted with desires fulfilled ambitions achieved our fore-mothers came they came at risk nurtured by their heritage Elsa Wachs © 1997 |
