Comments Posted By Elizabeth Moon

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Clean the house. Wash the windows. Wear clean clothes. Study. Plan the classes. Be enthusiastic. Be firm. Be fair. Be informative. Be interesting. Be patient. Listen to their complaints. Discipline well. Cook. Eat healthily. Be friendly. Smile. Remember everyone’s name. Shop in the landlord’s store. Stay in at night. Sleep well.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 01.07.2011 @ 6:03 pm


The dusty smell of old books. A sense of lost, of resources unused. My mother took me as a child, it was a treat. Now people only go for movie rentals. The library is empty. Obsolete. But it still spells like books, feels of paper. No computer, or nook, or electronic thing can give me the satisfaction of turning to the last page of a good book.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.31.2010 @ 4:58 pm


It’s time, is all, working away at what was once brilliant. Like all things, we are turned over by time and tarnished. Beauty fades. Things that were once sure, are no longer. If we are not improving, if we think we are maintaining and standing in place, we are wrong.We are always moving one way, or the other.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.29.2010 @ 4:19 am


When I was a child, I had a toy typewriter. It was blue and heavy. When my parents were gone, and my brothers were in charge, I would get angry for no reason at all and run up to my room. I would lock the door and throw my typewriter into the ground over and over. James thought that I needed to be committed. No one ever asked why I was angry, and my parents never saw that side of me.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.19.2010 @ 7:36 am

The clack of the keys, the hassle of erasing, the beauty of the letters. I like the small smear by each one, of the action in writing, the commitment to the words, and the finality of each stroke. The satisfaction of pressing down on the keys.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.18.2010 @ 8:30 pm


I counted the stamps on the envelope. I wanted to make sure there are enough to get to you, to reach you. You’re so far away and I wanted to tell my plans for the future. I didn’t know you’d change your mind before it had time to get there.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.13.2010 @ 12:15 pm


I want to feel it again. The awe, the chill that runs across my skin, from my spine out to my digits. I want to feel it in you.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.09.2010 @ 4:50 am


The willow sat out on the corner of the property, giant and flowing down her leafed ropes. I had always wanted to swing on them, jump out into the lake, and swim off to the island. It was like my dream of flying, it almost felt tangible. But I would scramble up her wooded branches, and jump onto the weeping droops, only to fall back to the ground.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 12.08.2010 @ 7:00 am


My grandfather loved trains. When we’d travel, we’d often stop off at old railways, especially old covered bridges, covered in mosses and ivy. He’d get out and take pictures. My bedroom had a strange collection of rail ties, like giant nails.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.24.2010 @ 6:06 am


It’s the power is holds over us,
that ingrained pattern,
unbreakable, even for a moment,
We want to leave this
way of doing things,
move on, improve,
be better people,
but we fall back,
we become what we have always been.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.22.2010 @ 6:17 am


They all thought I was going to study the sciences. That I would major in biology. Some of my extended family was so convinced that actually thought I was until I graduated with a degree in Literature. “But you love science,” they protested. Can I have more than one love?

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.20.2010 @ 8:09 am


My first word was duck. My brothers’ both went for dad, but I liked ducks. A love that has sense been replaced by elephants. I once dated a man who loved ducks like I love elephants. He thought it was sign for us. He was wrong.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.17.2010 @ 3:14 pm


I see him, on occasion, in the mornings. I’m walking up the mountain to school, beating against the dust, or mud, depending on the season. I look up, usually 20 minutes in, and see him. He’s handsome, dark, half hidden under his hat. He never cat-calls, or whistles like the others, he just smiles, lifts his hat, and keeps riding.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.16.2010 @ 5:15 pm


The ivy against the reds, the browns,
the bricks of history.
We grew up in the cemetery of that old Baptist Church,
up in the magnolias,
where we’d sit and watch tourists
they were so impressed with the reconstruction,
the life around them,
workers in colonial garb,
you held my hand.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.15.2010 @ 1:34 pm


I have to ask to learn
como se dice…este?
They smile that smile,
the one that says,
stupid american,
but I’m learning,
and I want to eat.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 11.13.2010 @ 6:48 pm


It all stops here. They grip at us, pulling us away. We don’t know if we will return.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.31.2010 @ 6:38 pm


Those sirens, the sounds of wailing,
of life struggling,
has become background noise,
an annoyance.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.28.2010 @ 7:35 am


The shore was always yours. Your dreams
your memories.
I belonged to the mountains,
and they called to me.
That’s why I’m here.
That’s why we’re apart.
Maybe one day we will understand.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.25.2010 @ 11:53 am


The wooden grains trace down,
ending between the spaces
where others start,
this is the table where our hands works,
where papers were laid out,
and minds drifted away from where we are,
where we were.
Sometimes, I would count grains,
tracing them down,
distracting from the work to be done,
the company to be kept.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.20.2010 @ 7:25 am


The white sheets, blue stripes, laying across the bed we lay in. Everything comes back to love. Every story leads you to make some greater understanding. We don’t like to admit it. These sheets are you. I still lay in them and think of you.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.14.2010 @ 10:47 am


He always wore flannel
and smirked
but only at odd moments,
otherwise, he held his head up
watching, listening,
you always knew he was there,
but he never said a word.

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.12.2010 @ 1:07 pm


Without sunlight,
like living in caves,
we recede away from life,
from night,
from flowers,
the root of everything

» Posted By Elizabeth Moon On 10.11.2010 @ 2:10 pm

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