I'm Walt. And I'm Marie Elena.
This is the collaboration of two kindred spirits; partners in rhyme;
"the best friends we've never met."
All "Across the Lake. Eerily."

Tuesday, August 31, 2010


Golden silence
Silver moon
Lake’s alliance
Souls in tune

Marie Elena

Saturday, August 28, 2010


A morning calls, freshly whispering  in the vacant shadows of night,
a sunrise in sight on the horizon, rising ever-upward to her perch.
The church of this new and blessed day dawns upon us. We pray
that every new day possesses her beauty and grace, a place
where the angels stand, hand-in-hand, offering their songs in the
rustle of each leave, the hush of the breeze and in every newborn's sneeze.
A morning; as new as any beginning for which we can wish.
A day, as precious as the life we offer to Him in our every action
It is pleasing in our sight that this right moment is presented to us;
this gift is given to us. Accept this new day in the spirit of life.

For no matter what the mortal men predict, it is a new and blessed day.
If clouds should form, it is a sign to appreciate all you have when the sun
sits high in a blue sky. If rain should appear, know that it will eventually clear,
leaving the bloom of flowers and the freshness of a start anew.
Any obstacle was placed before you, to teach you. To teach you to persevere.
To teach you acceptance of the things you cannot change. To give the lesson
that all God offers in each new day is a blessing. It is never more than we can handle.
It is always a manifestation of His love for us. Embrace this gift for it is given in love.
Embrace this day, your life, your family, your friends, and the time you have to embrace.
This is a great place that emerges from the shadow of night; this day so given.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010


Graceful and heartful, smart,
full of vigor to fight the rigors of life
as defined. You don't mind
because at your side, having your back,
is a friend. In need, indeed;
when not needed, wanted just the same.
The game is simple. Having a friend is being
a friend. Faceless, replaceless
never graceless, with a spacious heart.
From start to end, a Good friend is priceless.
Good as gold, and then some. Without end.


Saturday, August 21, 2010


Waves wash in unexpectedly, heaving and surging,

threatening our very footing, as one of our own

is wrestled under, ill equipped for the

fight of his life, which finds all

of us standing aground,

ourselves breathing


Marie Elena


Crash of surf on sand,
gulls abound and flit around
in gangs of ten or twenty.

I'd have bet money
that the beach would be full
until we cleared the ridge to the shore.

Widely scattered blankets more
sand than flannel, to a (wo)man
the guards start to vacate. We're late

to get in the water, we ought to
have come earlier. But the atmosphere
is soothing. Two of us barefoot at Erie's edge.

Hedging that bet, I get a flash of memory,
back to the day when the girls were younger
and I didn't need sunscreen to protect my scalp.

No guard on duty. Service suspended.
But it didn't cause the end of a wonderful day.
Sunset burned into our eyes; in our hearts it stays.



Ten days of silence
Eerily, Across the Lake
Buoycotting muses?

Marie Elena

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Tutankhamen need not apply
to that "pyramid" by-the-by,
under a sunny Cleveland sky.
He's not the guy; he's not the guy.

Enough kings there to fill the role,
the best of R&B; soul,
the Kings of Pop and Rock and Roll,
tops of the poll; tops of the poll.

If you can wield your "axe" with pride,
if you may or may not have died,
your music will get you inside,
enjoy the ride; enjoy the ride.

As part of a group or solo,
your legend will shine at the show,
Rock & roll; the right way to go
to make your dough; to make your dough.

As Halls of Fame go, this one rocks!
The names inside will knock your socks
so hop, and rock around the clock.
Cleveland does rock; Cleveland does rock!



Take me back to sixty-nine,
the year, not the...never mind.
I keep reverting to that time,
when life was simpler; sublime.
In the throes of puberty,
feeling music course through me.
Songs of the day,
artists of the time,
albums of the year,
in my mind, they all shine.
For music was where I found my "voice",
those melodic poems were my choice,
when I ran out of notes, the lyrics popped,
(and for a span of twelve years I completely stopped).
But back with a vengeance I came roaring
to hear my poetry take flight, now soaring
beyond all expectations, my fait accompli;
my celebration of mind, and words and me.
If I had to pinpoint where it began,
'twas the "Summer of Love" kick-started this man,
and so as I venture to continue in rhyme,
I toss my once-upon-a-mane to Nineteen Sixty-Nine!

Peace, Brother!


Sunday, August 8, 2010


The vision of a friend; seeker of artistic worth.
How on earth did she ever find this connection?

But the direction she chose to expose that eye,
a far cry from Toledo, across the Erie Lake toward Buffalo.

Little did she know, the voice she heard spoke in words
that expressed a devotion to song, lyrical and lilting; lifting

an unsure foot, and then the next. Small steps into his world
unfurling the banner of poetic pondering, wondering if her words

could touch the soul of one she perceived so gifted,
lifted by his support and recognition; a position reciprocated

in kind. In his mind, he is driven, given the opportunity
to share in poetic unity; like minds finding a common bond.

Hands across the lake, reaching and teaching each other,
a rhyming sister and brother, related by their poetry, knowing

they are enhanced by their presence, in essence their words
become their umbilical, joining and nourishing their combined muse.

He is used to relying on her friendship; a necessary camaraderie
in her eye, the window to their personalities, a view to their worlds.  



The title beguiles -- implies many styles,
and begs him the question, “Am I in possession
of voices, innumerous: poignant to humorous,
heartrending, moving, inane?”

He ponders the thought, as his mind becomes wrought
with the pieces he’s fashioned, from lax to impassioned,
from terse to soul-baring, enticing, or daring,
outlandish, bizarre, or mundane.

His voices are many, approaches aplenty,
inducing emotions while conjuring notions
of various kinds that may play with our minds
to divert, stir, or just entertain.
Marie Elena
*Originally titled "The Many Voices of Lauren Hill," in response to a Poetic Asides prompt; written to honor my PArtner.

Saturday, August 7, 2010


Generosity, personified

Outstanding uncle





Honest businessman


Respected by all

Uncle Jim is a man to be admired. In 1977, he bravely started his own precious-metal plating company here in Toledo. It was a 1200 sq. ft., father-and-son business. Once business took off, he employed many over the years. He offered free education through a tuition reimbursement program, full healthcare coverage, and respect for everyone from part-time housekeeper to chemist. As is the case for too many small businesses, the economy has taken its toll, and he has had to downsize severely.  

He is a loving father to his own children, and father-at-the-ready for me. When I was a little girl, I feared nearly everyone … including (unfortunately, and for no reason) my own father. When I was approximately four, I decided my dad was an okay guy after all. One day in our kitchen, I decided I was going to tell him how I felt about him. I climbed up in his lap to give him the very best compliment a man could ever be given: I told him that of all the "men" I knew, I loved God first, Uncle Jim Powers second, and him third. Poor Dad. I was such an evil child. Sincere, but evil.  I've never lived that one down.

Too often, we wait until it is too late to express our love and admiration for people in our lives. On this side of the Lake, I have many.

And I’m not waiting.

Marie Elena

Thursday, August 5, 2010


As far as lakes go,
truly great ones either are,
or surround, Erie.

I'm just sayin'.
Marie Elena

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


As the temperature fell,
The landscape crystallized,
Mirroring endless candlelight moons.
Stationary waves graced the break wall;
Stopped cold in Erie’s path.

Marie Elena