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Lisbeth, a poet 4 u

Last Updated: 5/25/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Divorced
Sign: Aries

City: ROCKFORD
State: Illinois
Country: US
Signup Date: 4/8/2006

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Sunday, August 16, 2009

Of wind & water
Current mood:

grateful
Category: Writing and Poetry

Twilight Dreams

The day is drawing to a close
with whispers of wind and echoes,
of voices left behind like a sigh
and faint laughter refusing to die.
Hearing the gentle lap of the waves,
a man is content for gifts nature gave.
Gulls swoop and soar with lonely cries,
upward, into twilight skies...
then back again to earth below,
small silhouettes against sunsets glow.
Tree lines are beginning to fade
into evening when all turns to shade.
The reflection of moon, calm on the lake
brings a smile for it's beauty to his face.

Chasing the shadows of a dreamy day,
across the lake rolls a wall of gray.
A quiet sound, through haze of mist
and firefly lights... what enchantment, this?
A door seems to open, a voice heard to call,
is anyone out there, anyone at all?
The man who lay dreaming now arises,
bathed in the glow of unfamiliar horizon.
He walks on air, drawn by light and the voice,
realizing suddenly, he has little choice
but to follow where unseen hands are leading
and face the call to send out tidings,
of the joys to be found in hearts of peace...
how many among us believe
it's still within our reach?

Lisbeth Hill

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Wednesday, April 22, 2009

A view from a hill
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Paths

How easily we self analyze
when we seriously philosophize
about the paths we could take thru life.

How carefully we cope
when the depth of our scope
goes beyond the realm of this earth.

How patiently we wait
for the tenderness which states
we have found the love of our soul.

How longingly we pray
that we'll soon find our way
inside the heart of life's truth.

How clearly we will see
all that's meant to be
as we open ourselves to the light.

How deeply that we care
when we begin to dare
to have trust in destiny's ways...

Lisbeth Hill

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Monday, April 13, 2009

winter storm
Category: Writing and Poetry

Winters Last Dance

A snowflake flutters, then another
falling from skies, dainty and wild,
with each one perfect, in it's own right.
It's a beautiful morn for strolling a'ways
with winters last breath cold on our face.

Trees speak aloud in their odd creaking vein,
boughs groan to each other for lack of warmth,
limbs clasp with the sound of their rasping bark.
The snowflakes will be their blanket of white
and the wind is their pillow for the long night.

Have you heard the deep silence of this place
with it's thickly, swirling, curtain of snow,
draping itself in abandon on the ground?
It's winters last dance in this quiet time,
quenching, earths thirst in springtime.

Lisbeth Hill

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Sunday, January 18, 2009

tree hugging
Category: Writing and Poetry

Rough Comfort

She walks in the mist,
a child in a dream,
searching for that,
which is never seen.
No comfort for her,
no cradle of arms
to hold her safe
and free from harm.
With tracings of love,
an open heart shows
and she'll give all away
so that it might grow.
Will you be her friend
when she's all alone,
caught by the rain,
so far from home?
She looks for shelter
and escape from cold
then, runs to the woods
for the trees, she'll hold.
Rough comfort they give,
sighing in the breeze...
and stroking her cheeks
with fingers of leaves.
The moon is now rising,
silver in the night,
it speaks to her soul
in cascades of light.
A promise, she finds
by the moons soft glow...
it touches her heart
with a love she knows.
Feeling rays of hope,
face, turned toward the sky,
trusting the fates,
she awaits their reply.

Lisbeth Hill

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Sunday, January 18, 2009

A journey
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Joining

Kindred spirits are awake in the night
joining hands for their mystical flight.
Minds clear away the darkness of a world,
while calling to souls, shining and pure.
The link is there, as the truth is unfurled.
If we live with spirits intact and sure,
destiny's light will show us the way.
From the beginning of our lives
to the end of our days,
we are part of a plan and must not stray.
As we travel the cosmos, we will find...
this IS but one stop, in time.
The doubts become unreal
and have all fled
the mysterious paths
on which, we've been led.
And the winds of change begin to blow
us up to the skies,
where our numbers will grow.
Then, the feeling inside
is like a sunburst of joy
because, together we'll fly
and forever, we'll know.

Lisbeth Hill

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Sunday, January 18, 2009

Love
Category: Writing and Poetry

Remember

If all your strength was failing
and dreams crumble into dust,
the last spark of hope dies
and you wonder what to trust...
If you wish that love would stay
but it only brings you pain
and your spirit's getting sore
'cause you're bleeding in the rain...
Remember,
I'll always be here with you
and I'll always help you get through.

If you retreat in silence
to sing a song of the heart
and you send it with the wind
so it echoes in the dark...
If the lessons you're learning
are like diamonds in the rough
but the spell you've been under
never seems to be enough...
Remember,
I'll always be here with you
and I'll always help you get through.

If you're seeing simple truths
that's no longer black or white
but they burn into your soul
'cause they're something you can't fight...
When it's time to turn around
from the shadows and the rain,
then, you'll hear love's whisper
and it won't leave you the same...
Remember,
I'll always be here with you
and I'll always help you get through.

Lisbeth Hill

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Friday, August 29, 2008

New Orleans
Category: Writing and Poetry

I felt I should do an update on the writing for New Orleans since it's been 3 years now since Katrina hit.
The situation hasn't improved as much as it should have.
There are so many of it's people still homeless or displaced and the levee system has not been repaired
to the point it can withstand another storm surge like Katrina produced.

Lady of the Bayou, Drowning in Tears

Katrina flew ashore like a wild bird of prey,
devouring the coast and everything in it's way.
Raging waves of fury claimed the land as it's own
'til they breached the levees of New Orleans town,
sweet lady of the bayou and jewel of the south.
Now the army corp of engineers
knew the levees were faulty, all these years.
But nothing was done to combat the fears
and soon, New Orleans was drowning in tears,
sad lady of the bayou and jewel of the south.
All this came to pass, as it was foretold
by so many, all those many years ago.
You've been engulfed in a deadly, toxic brew
and I feared what we'd find as we uncovered you,
bright lady of the bayou, jewel of the south.

Aching hearts are wanderin' down Louisiana way,
memories of happy days were all that could be saved.
Her story's far from over and it's still being told
how government neglect had left her without hope...
but even that, couldn't destroy New Orleans soul,
the lady of the bayou and jewel of the south.
So, tell me what we'll do, to protect her now
that her wetlands surrounding have lost their ground?
What will we build against the onslaught of waves
when her natural defence has been taken away?
What will we do to ensure each day is safe
when the howling storm clouds appear again
in our lady of the bayou, the jewel of the south?

Don't leave her drowning, drowning in tears...

Lisbeth Hill

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Friday, July 25, 2008

For kids with life threatening illness
Category: Life

This was written while I was doing volunteer work for the Make A Wish Foundation. My daughter, Maia was going thru chemo during that time also.

Our Children

You are children, small and tall
with hopes shining bright
on through the night,
believing it'll be alright.
The burden they bear,
they'll try not to share,
as they fight to be brave
on the strength of a prayer.

This pain will soon fade
and their lives, they'll not trade,
for, with smiles they will tell you,
they feel not betrayed.
But, if wishes come true,
I'd send some to you,
to take all the sorrow away.

For that, I will pray
and hope that someday,
as the day is long, you'll play...
in sunshine and in trees.
And somehow, I must believe
there is a good reason,
in such a hard season
for our children small and tall.

Lisbeth Hill

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Sunday, January 20, 2008

Mans Identity To Man, The Present
Category: Writing and Poetry

This is a writing that was based on the album cover of the Moody Blues,

The Present. At 1st, I thought it was a a painting by Maxwell, aka
Maxfield Parrish, but it's not, just very similar.
It portrays two beings, one lying on the ground, facing the sky,
the other bending over the first with hand outstretched,
as if offering something to the other. Inside the outstretched hand is an X.
After doing some research I found out one of the things it represents.
The X is a symbol of Man's Identity to Man. That is indeed, a present.
This is on one album cover side.
On another side the painting continues, with a space craft hovering above
and to the side of the beings. (Really beautiful artwork by The Studio.)
Anyway, this was the inspiration for my writing Man's Identity To Man.

Man's Identity To Man

We search ourselves for every clue,
to what our true purpose in life may be.
Fighting disillusion and worn by time,
we try to understand the things we percieve,
then, hope for the best in our human condition.

We'll travel our path from cradle to grave,
seeking others who were brought
from far away and for the same reason
wiping out hate and teaching compassion,
for healing, man's inhumanity to man.

Yet, we find indifference at every turn,
desensitized to suffering, so common place.
It feeds on the apathy which hides within
when we don't understand, it will seal our fate,
destroying the best of all mankind.

By remembering a universal dream,
we approach the truths of our humanness.
But if we lose faith in each other today,
no longer will our innocence be seen
in the gift of man's identity to man.

Lisbeth Hill

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Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Simple Offerings are better than nothing
Category: Writing and Poetry

Simple Offerings

With mankinds unnamed yearnings,
we give small offerings,
praying they'll be enough
for the lonely and tired,
hoping they'll find a way
to give them all flight
away from empty night
with it's lofty wonders...
Who gives us the sight
to look beyond this day,
torn by silent thunder
of simple offerings?
Mankind strives, stirs and turns
then rises above, from love.
But we see souls of millions
in the eyes of our children,
hidden like sobs or sighs
for a world cast in gray...
will we turn them away
with small offerings?
Our hopes and our dreams
were long given, it seems
to a wish and a prayer
for answers to be given
like a whisper in the air
that might never be heard...
and except for the sight
of your eyes and your mind,
by what you give of your life
and the promises you keep...

It's just simple offerings.

Lisbeth Hill

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Thursday, October 26, 2006

A poem about New Orleans
Current mood:

melancholy
Category: Writing and Poetry

This is the story behind the writing of the poem, Lady Of The Bayou.

I had been contacted to write something for this book, Best Poets & Poems of 2005. So I decided to send what I had written for New Orleans right when the flooding was going on. It was so hard to watch what was happening there. It was heart wrenching. As New Orleans was being covered with flood water there was a music fest going on in Rockford & my brother came by to say I had to go hear Sonny Landreth who was playing there. I wasn't familiar with him but I decided to go ahead, since watching all the footage of New Orleans was tearing me up. It turned out that Sonny's home is in southern LA. and what I heard that evening was outstanding. I kept hearing that music as I started writing for New Orleans the next day. If you ever have a chance to go listen to Sonny play, do it, you won't be sorry. Hearing him during that time had a lot to do with the way Lady Of The Bayou turned out. Dedicated to a much loved city & written while listening to Sonny Landreth.

Lady Of The Bayou

Katrina flew ashore like a wild bird of prey
devouring the coast and all in it's way.
Waves of fury claimed the land as it's own
breaching the levees of New Orleans town...
lady of the bayou and jewel of the south.

All came to pass as it was foretold
many, oh so many years ago.
Engulfed in a deadly and toxic brew,
what will we find as we uncover you,
lady of the bayou and jewel of the south?

What will we do to protect her now
when her wetlands surrounding are losing ground?
What will we build against the onslaught of waves
when her natural defence has been washed away?
What will we do to ensure each day is safe
in our lady of the bayou and jewel of the south?

These days, my hearts wanderin' down Louisiana way,
these days, memories are what I keep safe.
Her story's far from over and it's still being told
'bout how nothing of this world could destroy
New Orleans soul...
lady of the bayou and jewel of the south.

Lisbeth Hill

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Friday, August 18, 2006

A chisel for a writers block
Category: Writing and Poetry

Rivulets

I question and I wonder
at this book halfway through.
I hear the rustling
of unwritten pages,
words of truth
yet unspoken,
where wisdoms
tenuous uncloaking
is but a mind frame away...
bordering on memory
enscribed within the tree.

Perhaps, at last...
when trusted page is filled
I'll have learned how to heal,
or how not to grieve.
But these rivulets
of honesty,
coursing down
furrowed valleys
are etched deep
in the parchment
then seared by a soul
becoming
almost
unbearable to know.

Lisbeth Hill

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Saturday, July 22, 2006

childhood dreaming...
Category: Writing and Poetry

Childhood Shadows

I am a seeker for things of beauty...
forlorn and forgotten, quiet and unheard.
I look inside our worlds hidden places,
my eyes lit in wonder,
calling,
that they might awake from slumber.
See...
even as we speak they arise from long sleep.
Lake kelpies rear, flinging sea foam with a snort...
standing steadfast by their watery keep,
patient in the moonlit night,
they wait for a small fearless rider
with gentle hands to guide them.
Look again...
forest sprites emerge from trees
merrily dancing, laughing,
throwing kisses of love...
simply because.
They leap onto sunbeams for a game of twinkle
and they wind run for the joy of being free.
Oh, those fanciful, forgotten shadows
are like fading memories
when we allow magic to sleep again.
But innocence can burn away the fog
with rays of childish trust.
Listen...
you can hear them faintly still...
the soft nicker of what manner of steed?
And tinkling laughs so sweet...
or are they sounds of bells floating through the air?
Yes, I answer them... I still care.

Lisbeth Hill

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Sunday, July 16, 2006

Mystical poetry
Category: Writing and Poetry

Dream Dance

At the dawn of time with it's first breath,
explore the wonders not governed by death.
If magic's found in a wonderment,
why can't we explain the dreams we've dreamt?

In glimmers of hope, defenses shaken,
we remember a familiar haven.
A light hovers in the twilight mist,
offering shelter to those adrift.

Hearts once lost have been captured,
riveted, by what's known as rapture.
Do you dream dance on a bridge of thought
when the timeless zone has you caught?

When thoughts strike amidst human confusion,
enlightening bolts tear the veils of illusion.
A quest leading through mystical lands
will give truths to those who understand.

A timeless table, transformed and whole
is shared by many a wandering soul.
Dreams come to us from unknown source,
why can't we explain what they reinforce?

As thoughts are released from repressive webs,
insights will lead us through what's ahead.
We hope to discern the answers to why,
can reasons be clear without their reply?

Life's tapestry remains ever changing,
the colours of love endow it with meaning.
When we progress through our seasons in time
we'll learn how to weave our future's design.

Lisbeth Hill

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

An optimist & a pessimist
Category: Life

                The optimist & the pessimist                  
met for lunch declaring truce...  
One said:
"the restaurant could've been better, 
 cobwebs & spiders are hanging in the corner"
The other said:
"They're  doin' alright, catching flies
and they're not in our dinner"


 
They returned to their thoughts 
and the window to view
gray skies and pouring rain...
One said : 
"Look at today, it's so grim
and foreboding"
The other said:
"Mmmm,
yet, that raindrop is pretty"

                                          Lisbeth Hill

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