Memorable Lines on My Face Make Me Who I Am--Not "Old"

Lately, my friends keep lamenting over age spots and wrinkles, discussing this treatment and that treatment that will help them stay young-looking. Here is my poetic response:

The Lines on My Face

The lines on my face
SHOW, don’t tell
a story
of a writer
blessed not by a well of angst
from which to draw word pictures,
but by a fountain of bittersweet joy,
from which I gather
well-read palmfuls to splash
onto my new wrinkles
just in time to turn them into
fantastic crows’ feet
and grin marks,
hydrated by freshwater happiness
and saltwater lessons.
My fine lines,
though written with strength,
are not the type discussed by Oprah’s Book Club,
nor are they admired
by the “Beautiful People,”
who see them as defects of aging,
rather than privileges.
The lines on my face
help to make me ME—
as do these lines above.

Words and Water

When I contemplate the power, necessity, and life-giving force of words, I think of water, which comprises most of our world and our bodies.


Flowing Words
by Susan L. Lipson


Words flow,
Flow like rivers,
Rivers of rhythm surging,
Surging and burbling and pouring,
Pouring into oceans and lakes and streams,
Streams of thoughts and wishes and desires,
Desires shared by readers who immerse themselves and drink,
Drink their fill of rejuvenating, satiating lexical liquid,
Liquid literature swirling into open minds, the vessels of ideas,
Ideas represented by words that flow,
Flow like rhythmic rivers,
Rivers of words.

Dams built,
Built of closed minds,
Minds in perpetual drought and fear,
Fear the flooding of their foundations,
Foundations that cannot withstand the tides of change,
Change that flows through all,
All open to words,
Words that grow,
Grow life.

Poem Recalling New Year's Eve 2013

In the Balance
by Susan L. Lipson

Within the moments between New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day,
Hides the paradoxical beauty of Life itself--
Ending juxtaposed with Beginning,
Regrets counterbalanced by Resolutions,
Dropping balls and countdowns launching rising confetti and happy songs.

The heat from the joyful crowd swaying and bouncing in front of a roaring fire
Seems to shudder in a blast of cold air
From an opening and closing door,
And I freeze in the warmth of a hug and a wish for a happy new year
As pained faces flash behind my eyes—
Faces of other friends, not here,
Whose hearts are too heavy now to teeter upward
And find equanimity.
I pray for them silently
While around me plays a soundtrack
Of clinking glasses, raucous laughter, and lively music.
Someone breaks a wine glass,
And I hear, “Oh no, I’m sorry!”
And “No worries! It’s fine!”
And laughter,
As we interrupt the party to collect shards and dry the floor.