Lisa, in her nightgown
slippin through the trees
the sticks catching at her sleeves,
the leaves crunching
underneath her slippers
in the cool breeze.
I left the porch light on.
Lit the fire.
made some tea.
I hope that she'll come home.
Lisa's in the forest
there are scratches on her arms;
it's dark.
Lisa's all alone
it seems
in the cold wet park.
I saw a honey bee today,
Next door
the puppy ran away,
and far beyond this little scene,
a baby died,
and broke a lover's heart,
things change:
Lisa all alone,
sleepin' on the swing.
Author notes
Written March 1st, 2004
In a list
What did you think
Comments
1 - 38 of 38
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Well, this DOES, indeed, qualify as weird...some very fine rhymes throughout the piece, a tad too esoteric for my feeble brain however.... nicely done..
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Your natural imagery is astounding because it brings me extremely vivid pictures in my mind. You wrote it from a view that made us feel a part of the scene.
Good job from the Peppy Happy crew.
xx
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Very impressive work, poet! There is much going on in this poem on a number of different levels. Excellent!
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Nice write; seems like it could be a song
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This seems like a peom about alzheimers disease with Lisa being an older lady who has wondered off. It is really beautiful way to think of such a terrible disease if that is what you were talking about. I really like this poem and wish you all the best. Plus I am glad you found Lisa, safe on the swing!!!
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I can relate to Lisa, you depict her well. The interveaving of her shadowy exsistance and a honeybee and cosy hearth are intriguing. Spotty endline rhyme is a bit distracting, IMO Still, I truly enjoyed the read.
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Love the specificity of your images, and the picture you draw of Lisa, lingering in your mind, your hopefulness... I do wonder what is happening, since you take us first to danger, and then the rather peaceful resting on the swing... but the mysteriousness is part of the attraction, I guess!
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dunno
should I google the date? -
Now granted this was written some time ago and there are aspects of it which are to like - I dislike the phonetic patterns which does nothing for what is already dubious rhyming. But I do like the piece itself but would enjoy it way more if I wasn't distracted. What it does show, like it shows in many good writers at AP, just how much and how dramatically one can improve in an open workshop enviroment where you are surrounded by brilliant writers willing to be honest.
PS mate, do you think Peter O in April might have been on "boner alert" when he was writing his review?
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Powerful write of how many feel like this Lisa at some time in life. We sit alone as the world arounf us goes on with hearts being broke and children killing eachother, robbery's. Makes me wonder if the swing is so bad compared to the other.
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Wow.
Wow, this is weird. I thought of only myself, as if you were writing this poem piede FOR me. Wow...i feel like you are my best friend or smoething. That I am Lisa...lol...Wow.
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Some worried times here - this young girl not home, then back again -life goes on around us and we all manage to live our lives as best we can. It doesn't stop for anyone and we manage to survive another day. Kind of melancholic; things change...
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Oh. This is a very nice poem that you have here.
It's a story and a catchy little rhyme poem. I was trying to figure out what Lisa was to the speaker of the poem but I guess that doesn't matter. The whole forest seemed to be about experiencing life. Lestways, that's how it came across to me.
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lisa oh lisa oh lisa
in 68 i was with lisa from flushing new york. we made love and screwed till it hurt. she . she was a painter with talent . how i miss her succulent breasts and rotund bottom . thanks for bringing her back -
So many Lisa Poems
I heard she's an amalgamation. Yup.
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amazing
I find Lisa to be myself. As I read this I felt as if you (even though I have no idea who you are) were talking about me. I feel very close to you right now it's an extremely strange feeling. This is beautiful and so full of truth. Thank you. -
Lisa -- Who the hell knows! But, Lisa does. That really is the secret and your right the world turns 'round and things happen good and bad all over town. The one we love and care about often leave us behind, not from lack of love for us, but now is not the time. We must serve our own lives and learn to let our capacity for love grow. Then when the opportunity presents itself we let our love go.
Enjoyed your jaunt across the poetic landscape, both words and descriptions caught at my spirit and tugged for attention. Good job. Love, Tom B. -
Excellent
Love the imagery, the little girl in the swing at the end is most powerful and overwhelming. A sad poem. But touches me deeply. Great write. I add my humble accolades to all the others above. Walt. -
This is really nice, and really thorough. Keep on writing, I really enjoyed reading this. Good work.
Snuggly x -
I think all your work about Lisa is great, im gonna continue reading so keep writing them. Great write again
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feeling egoic want to read lisa poems today ..
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Why do you put your Lisa up in that Featured Box when all she wants to do is resting within the glow of your warmth?
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i would hug lisa the most in this one, you could make a whole book just about your lisas like that one when its all just about that crow
i like it, sometimes you just hear one small poem about someone and then theyre dead
but not these ones -
lisa changes ages all the time doesnt she
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I like this. aside from the fact that it's a really well written poem, I like your Lisa that you write about. I have a Lisa in my life (not the same name, of course) and I identify with how she inspires you and muses you in poetry.
the personal poignancy in this poem, in imagery, in mood, in cloaked message, moves me. a truly beautiful poem. and truly spiritual in the purest sense of the word.
lute a poet. -
It is very beautiful, hypnotically so. Reading through the Lute canon, one is reminded of La Monte Young, and his wonderful piece consisting of a B and F sharp, to be held for a long time. We begin to hear resonances, shiftings in the molecules. Some philistines would at least throw in an E natural here and there, but no. It is not to be.
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Lisa's scratches will heal and her dead arms will be okay...her eyes will dry, the swing will hear the gently cry of a childs laughter someday, if we just keep the faith, and strengthen our hearts.
Thank you for sharing this Lute, it touches me deeply. -
Lisa is strong. I know she is. She is also smart. She'll make use of those scars. She will. Dammit.
(protective over Lisa's) -
Ah, Lute. Such a poem. I have been there and done this (put the tea on) waiting and worrying. The last stanzas are like denial of reality, too painful to deal with. This is truly beautiful and really hit a chord for me in my own experiences.
Poor little Lisa. She returns, but some of her scars never heal. Of course, like T.S. Eliot in Prufrock you could say, "that is not what I meant at all...." Such is the joy of poetry. We all take from it what we need, sometimes irregardless of the poet's intent. -
A strange, sad poem. Maybe you'll find Lisa and she'll have gotten her dreamy reverie out of her system. I'm crazy, but this reminds me of a scary movie. The woods at night....I got shivers.
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Yes.'T is Lisa ...
The Poet, how well the Poet knows how to end misery ... for Lisa, that is. She is safe ... yet alone: sleeping on the swing ... Being lulled by her loneliness ... Dreamless, within her seclusion of worded trees, she rests a while. Not knowing about the porch light and the tea. But the world goes on its way: a honey bee, pregnant with sweetness; a puppy astray; a barren crib; a wounded lover.
And once, long ago, another Lisa took shelter in a storm, in her nightgown, high above the sea, barefoot, crying in the rain. Sometimes the cold wet park is an embrace of sorrow ...
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Maybe it's just because I'm reading his poems at the moment (alright, translations of his poems) but I keep seeing Paul Verlaine everywhere. Images artfully scattered together. I like this very much.
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don't touch it!
Poor Lisa's in her nightgown getting all scratched up in the forest, all cold and stuff and he's talking about a honey bee and a puppy. Maybe a stiff one will bring her home, a drink that is. Better than tea I believe.
Actually this is quite lovely. The last three lines especially end it well, though sad but hey things change.
Desiree
Edited on Mar 01, 7:50 p.m. because ''. -
I can't read your Lisa poems anymore. Because when I read it I don't see just a character I see the girl I'm in love with and her name happens to be Lisa.
I'm not trying to forget her, but, I think after 8 years I am finally over her (yes 8 years). I think it was me seeing her mother and speaking to her breifly that made me think that tho her mother hadn't seen me in 8 years and still remembered who I was tho I had long hair and a beard - I don't know, somehow that made me get over her daughter. Tho, I know I will always be in love with her, I think I am finally over her.
But, reading your pieces, which are mainly about a girl named Lisa, I only see the Lisa I know tho I know it isn't about her. I wonder if you understand?
Anyways, I'll look for the poems of yours that don't have Lisa mentioned in it, at least by name.
But, it is an excellent piece. I like the image of the ending especially.
Edited on Mar 01, 3:21 p.m. because ''. -
It's good. Not that that means much coming from me.
I do like it, and I get what it says... The first stanza is my favorite, it's just... pretty?
For lack of a better word.
Jade
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dead good
its just so sad..this really gets me..lonliness and all that...things happening faraway everything seperate and death plus scratchy twigs. i once was walking along and a tree twig caught my hair and i was trapped ...truly..them trees are vicious little brutes.... -
Well, you already know how I feel about Lisa poems...right? Glad you left the porch light on for her..seems she needs some light to find her way. Tea is good too. Wonder what you'll talk about when you find her there..Both of you are tired..it seems. Honey bee sighting is good..spring must be somewhere? I have a dam puppy that runs away..and I have to chase her in my pjs in the morning - i must look ridiculous to the neighbors...but i'm over worrying about silly things like that, really..
But oh that baby....and broken heart.. -
Nice Poem
This poem is really pretty. Very poetic. It kind of goes from one subject to the next, one having nothing to do with the other. I can't quite get an idea of who lisa is. Maybe your daughter... a mother... a friend... This piece leaves a lot up to the reader's imagination. I like it. Great work!
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