by Ellie

All poetry on this page is copyrighted by Ellen Ferejohn Maziekien. Feedback can be sent to

At the Back of Beyond

On a rocky coast at the back of beyond
relentless waves
steadily pound -
surging; churning up icy spray.

No calm clear pond,
the heaving sea crashes.
The sky is misty,
wild, and gray.

Man does not come
to this place of magic -
of sylkies and faeries;
and sea nymphs, tragic.

Wizards hold here
with crystal and fire -
elves and sprites
with pan flute and lyre.

The tales of men,
the charms, the lore,
begin back of beyond
on a storm washed shore.
↑ Top

The Charm Workers

Faeries and wizards
worked their magic,
deep in caverns
far from light;
through the hours
when men were sleeping,
unearthly fires
blazed by night.

It was a place
no man could enter -
neither woman,
neither child;
enchanted creatures
alone gained entrance
to this charmed province,
strange and wild.

So by night
their hexes conjured,
they strove to
cast hate from the land;
then they slipped away
till summoned,
should man require
their guiding hand.
↑ Top

Dialog Between Lovers


An icy feeling comes over me as I sit alone
It is not the deep cold of the Winter wind,
although it blows, chilly and damp around me.
It is the frozen state of my soul.
A dark depression settles over me as I
again review the deeds that made me
The Destroyer of Nations.
How can I atone??
Nothing can undo what I have done.
My throat is raw from swallowing tears
And finally, bitterly, they come.
The thought that pierces my heart comes
to my mind unbidden.
She loves a lie.
The woman she loves, the do-gooder, the champion,
is a sham.
A fake.
How can she love me?


I did not follow her this time
because I know she needs to be alone.
Impossible though it seems, she gets more quiet,
Until I feel like I'm babbling to compensate.
That look comes into her eyes and they change
from blue to a somber gray.
I know that she is hurting, and that I cannot
take the hurt away.
I can only be here for her when she returns,
and, accepting all she was and is,
show her that she is worth loving, worth saving.
Worth everything to me.


She has fallen asleep waiting for me,
sitting up against Argo's saddle.
I tried not to wake her but -
those eyes are on me now.
She doesn't say a word but fits herself
against me and starts a slow caressing.
I wonder, does she know how her touch heals me?
Now she whispers, her lips on mine,
words I desperately need to hear.
Tears fall and she catches them on her tongue.
I brokenly tell her not to love me,
but she hushes me.
Tenderly, she cradles me in her arms.
The iciness in my heart fades,
exchanged for the warmth
that is my Gabrielle.
↑ Top

Each Kiss is More Intense

I want all of you; I cannot get enough.
Each kiss is more intense as
your touch goes deep, sending me into
a whirlwind of sensation.
The passion we share makes me weep
hot, helpless tears of joy.
Those amazing eyes, so cold and forbidding
when shuttered against the world,
are clear, warm and wide open to me.
With a calloused thumb you catch
and gently wipe the tears away.
You lift me up, holding me gently,
touching deep places
with an almost painful intensity.
Trembling, I kiss you wildly,
covering your face and breasts and belly,
licking, tasting, nipping, kissing.
Now your touch is firm, commanding.
I know your need; it matches mine.
What we share is white hot, intoxicating.
Your hands are everywhere,
your lips capture mine and your kisses are deep
and penetrating
bringing me toward climax.
We reach the crest together
and, tired now, we rest,
our bodies tangled, our heart beating as one.
I want more of you, I cannot get enough.
↑ Top

Early Morning Musings

I know so little about life.
Although I've lived in it
for fifty years,
I've never felt in control,
but careened through it,
now and then stepping out into reality.
So many beginnings --
first step, first kiss, first love,
first child.
So many second chances -
New school, new job, new home,
new path.
A daughter becomes a mother;
the mother watches as her children fly.
Middle age sets in and life changes.
From what I've seen so far
it will change again, but then,
I know so little about life,
although I've lived in it for fifty years.
↑ Top

An Encounter

People talk to me everywhere;
on the train, in the supermarket,
at the beach, in the park.
It may be my face, I don't know
People, strangers, just tell me things,
but why must they tell me everything?
Once I stopped to question
an old man about his dog.
He turned to me, a sad look on his face.
"Its my son's dog," he said,
"he died today."
His heart was broken.
I sat next to him on the bench
and he held my hand
and sobbed out his story;
I listened, nodding, letting him talk,
helplessly whispering comforting phrases.
The dog pressed against his knees and whimpered.
I think he was heartbroken, too.
All I could do was pet the dog and
hold the old man's hand.
I watched him walk away, hoping I'd helped.
I never forgot him.
Everywhere I go people still talk to me;
now I try to hear what they're saying.
↑ Top


Your eyes glint in the firelight
turned to violet by the flames
I could fall into them; they seem so deep
I know that you won't let me fall
but catch me in your arms
as though I were a mere wisp
insubstantial as the bits of fog that
even now are chasing each other across the grass

Our fire is banked against the wind
I am as snug as a babe;
held close, kept warm
within the haven of your love.

Now your eyes reflect another light;
by starlight they are a deeper hue.
I've seen them look as cold as ice;
but ever when your gaze meets mine
they are a sea toned blue,
and dance and wink and glow like starshine.
↑ Top


All others turned away
but you.
even my mother;
you braved their wrath.
In my view that
makes you the hero,
not I.

One man saw good
in me;
I tried to change;

I couldn't.
I gave up.
I surrendered.
I quit.

But you saved me;
against my will,
you became my friend.
I grew to be yours.

Now I cannot live
without you.
↑ Top

The Human Spirit

Middle of the night. Two forty-five, AM.
A hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake.
My husband. He says, "There's a fire, get out,
I'll get the boys!" One terse sentence.
I am up, down and out in ten seconds. Less, I think.
Out the door, turn and wait for my sons and my husband.
No one is coming! Then, Mike, my younger son
comes stumbling through the haze of smoke.
He said he had faltered on the steps and willed his legs to move
because he knew he'd die there if he didn't.
I touch him. I kiss him. He is here, he is safe!
Thank you God!
We wait. I send him across the street to pull the fire alarm.
Our town took them away!
Whose idea was that??!
We wait. I call out my husband's name.
Still nothing.
Back into the house. Stumble back out. Too much smoke!
I call. I yell. I scream their names.
"Bill! Chris! Chris!! Chris!!"
No response.
They told me later that my voice was louder than the sirens.
I scream, my voice raw, panicked, terrified.
I breathe deeply and go back into the house.
I can't see! I can't breathe. The smoke is yellow. Acrid.
It rolls toward me like a living creature, evil and horrible.
It forces me back out into the cold air.
Wait! I hear my husband's voice.
"Come into the back yard."
"What is he doing in the back yard?" I ask my son.
I run. It is November. I have on a light nightgown, no shoes.
I don't feel the cuts on my feet or the cold.
Get to the backyard! Get there!
Oh! They are in the window. Oh, thank God!
Thank you, God!
He tells me that there is a ladder by the fence.
I am a superwoman! I lift the ladder; put it up against the house.
No! I cannot figure out how to extend it!
I am helpless. But, wait! Mike has sent a policeman,
who raises the ladder and pulls my son down and into my arms.
My husband comes down the ladder and I hug him too.
He wanted to stay and save the cats.
Three cats, one, Gremlin, nine years old; one, Mischief, six months old;
one, Danforth, 6 weeks old.
They are dead. The fireman tells us we cannot go back in.
The house is lost. The cats are lost.
We are alive.
We are safe.
We survive.
I learn, first-hand, of the kindness of strangers.
We are enveloped in loving compassion and generosity.
Everything we own, someone gave to us.
We are humbled.
We are thankful.
We are loved.
We are alive. 6/4/2000
↑ Top

I Know Who You Are

I know how strong you are;
I can see the strength of your arm.
I feel the muscles moving under your skin.
Hearts freeze in fear of you;
your eyes gleam with your power,
ice blue and cold.
I understand the darkness in you,

but I am never afraid.

I know how gentle you are.
I feel the heat rising as
your body touches mine.
My heart skips a beat when you draw me close -
the light shines in your warm blue eyes.
You are lit from within
by the love we share.

I know who you are
and I am never afraid.
↑ Top

Kites Are Up!

Kites are up!
Chasing each other,
now they dip -
now they soar.

New grass bursts
onto the scene;
flashes of green
light up the trees,
and robins
bob for worms.

Daffodils proclaim the news:
↑ Top


Time moves us ever onward,
but I look back and think of you.
I know you had to go;
your poor body so abused,
so tired of fighting the war you could not win.
The fight had been a long one;
disease had never had so strong an adversary.
The battle drained you, left you weak, shaking,
but you rallied each new day and prevailed.
Job. You said you'd change your name to Job
because "you never could get a break" -
always joking about the dark struggle.
I saw you defeated at the end of a long day,
your sons lifting and carrying you to bed.
I saw you wake the next morning, still tired, aching.
You went to work, securing a future for the family
you would have to leave behind.
Fortitude. An old word, not much used today.
It means strength of mind; moral courage;
That is what you showed us every day.
The final insult, the final surgery that lopped off
flesh and dignity was too much for you.
Too soon for us, not soon enough to spare you pain
you reaped your final reward. Alone.
You died with the name of your beloved on your lips,
a heartfelt definition of love.
We wept, at the same time
delighting in your freedom. We miss you still, always.
Your legacy: be strong, be brave, study. Laugh.
Be there for your family. Work hard.
Live large, live right, and love.
↑ Top

Opening Gambit

My lips press against yours
at first meeting resistance,
then an opening, a yielding.
My tongue tastes yours
sensuous, sensual, arousing.
You respond equally, ardently,
your hand tracing a line
from my ankle to the top of my thigh;
feather soft, gossamer.
You find my center and I open.
Eyes smoky with desire, you fondle my breasts,
your fingers finding me sensitive, vulnerable.
Never looking back, I utterly surrender my soul.
↑ Top

Stallion Run

(Inspired by Theme for Endangered Species
by Helen Simmins-McMillin)

Alerted by danger sensed on the wind
the lead stallion rears, braying harshly.
His hooves come down on the hard packed earth
with a thump that startles a nearby foal,
sending it cowering behind it's mother's legs.
Another warbling neigh from the throat of the
leader and the whole herd wheels and bolts
fast, very fast, from a standstill to a gallop
In a heartbeat. Foam flecks their lips and
Long-lashed eyes squint against the clods of earth
thrown up by their panicked passage.
They are joined by other herds - of their own kind and others,
all prey animals, fleeing, running -
amid the utter safety of numbers.
Flat out, their speed unchecked, they run for miles,
acacia trees and scrub flitting by unnoticed.
Danger spurs them, unconscious trust in the leader drives them.
A clear scent of peace slows him, and they stand,
sides heaving, Legs trembling, throats parched.
Soon, it is as if nothing happened and they mill about,
species mingling, cropping the tough stems, and slowly
moving on, following the stallion toward water.
↑ Top


You are strength itself.
You do miraculous things
that others wouldn''t even try.

Seeking redemption you changed your life.
Seeking love you let me in;
and then I make you cry.

I did that.

You've kept your heart sheltered,
locked up, chained;
now it is suddenly exposed,
susceptible to pain, but you mask it.
You will not let me see.

Sometimes I speak before I think
and with a careless word,
cut you deeper than could any sword or blade.
You turn and walk away,
betrayed by your unprotected heart
and me.

I let you go.
I cannot bear your tears.
↑ Top

The Truth

If I could take the pain
I see reflected in your shadowed eyes
And ease your burden for
A little while

Your eyes would shine
With the light therein.
If I could wash away the stain
That you say you'll always bear
So others could see
Your undiminished smile

Your heart would show
The love wherein
The truth resides.
↑ Top

Your Touch

Hands on my body;
your hands, finding secret places
that only those hands know.
Sensations tickling across
my exposed breasts and
rippling down in wave after wave
of ecstasy.
The thrill of your tongue
tasting, tracing the contours
of my lips, my mouth, my throat -
now kissing, now nipping
harder, stronger, faster.
I turn and we match each other
move for move.
You touch me everywhere -
smoothing, stroking, rubbing, caressing;
every nerve awake, alive, alert.
Back arched, I am open to you
and you duck your head and
capture my lips with your own.
Spent, drained, you sleep;
I watch as your moss-green eyes close
I gently kiss them and
entangle my hand in your golden hair
as I, too, sleep, to dream again of your touch....