Elizabeth Fuller resides in Salinas, California. She has been writing from the heart for many years. In 1996, she had her first piece published by a small journal and soon after embarked on a successful journey through the ranks of many national literary magazines. Her early prolific writing was sparked by the tragic death of her first husband, culminating in the release of her first collection, "At Heart's Length."
This collection is filled with emotional poems of inspiration, hope, love, loss and despair - all deeply felt at the time and beautifully presented in traditional verse. After choosing to put her career in municipal recreation on hold to care for her two young sons, Elizabeth decided to devote her time to poetry on a full time basis.
This decision lead to the birth of "The Sunday Suitor," a national/international poetry review, to which she edited and published from her home. For two years, The Sunday Suitor highlighted hundreds of budding and established poets from all over the country and abroad. Elizabeth began conducting local workshops, judged poetry competitions and performed open readings throughout Northern California (BayArea). She was a regular on the Barnes and Noble Bookstore circuit and was asked to host grand openings and First Night celebrations for New Years.
During this period, she also began entering poetry competitions with her own work. In 1997, her poem "She Wore Teal," (from "Totems") won Best of 1997 First Place for the Council on National Literatures Poetry Award. This recognition became one of a long list of accomodations for her work. In 1997, "Totems: Poetry Carved From The Soul" debuted as her second published collection, where Elizabeth gifted her readers with a glimpse into the many faces of her own personal totem, built out of her inner strength and interpretations of the world around us. Everyone who reads Totems will come away with a feeling of discovery and reflection, warmth and renewal, through a myriad of poetry styles and experimental free verse. In 1998, Elizabeth remarried and rejoined her recreation career in Salinas, California.
Although she has ended her relationship with The Sunday Suitor Poetry Review, she still composes beautiful, imagery filled poems and offers classes and workshops in the Monterey County as the opportunity arises. For now, she is enjoying her family and career, with sincere hopes of getting her third collection, "Shadow Walking," published in 2001. Elizabeth Fuller maintains a web site at: www.members.tripod.com/elizabeth_neumayer/
Her lips are painfully chapped
by salt air serpents,
their frenzied tongues
thrashing
against pink, moist crevices;
Wearing away like sandpaper
against the memory
of the last summer's kiss.
The movement of your form
We are alive, dancing
in the shadows of a colorless night
send signals to my senses.
two ebony shelters
existing in servitude
to a voluptuous moon.
A notorious ocean wind
I laugh, if for no other reason
A lone gull calls with his glazed eyes,
to the land-locked woes beneath.
both wildly driven
cleaves through my summer warming,
amusing itself by the rising swells
across my exposed flesh.
than to feign delight with the weather,
embellish the lie of the coastal sun
and host reunion with a memory.
sparkling like two polished goblets
against the fire of the sky. And I watch
his curious progression, a ceremony
We endure, he and I,
laurel-crowned victors
into a salmon sunset,
by our own Pacific pardon
to the battle before:
a notorious ocean wind.
Peeling the layers of shade
for the month of June, usually
on a dripping telephone wire
One bird flies away, followed
when angry clouds will flee,
from the window, she peers out
into another Sunday rain,
a fielder's choice season, strange
thick with valley heat
and blinding sun spray.
A handful of blackbirds perched
across the street, long drops
of water falling onto empty sidewalks
with no sign of neighborhood children;
silence.
by two more, as she follows
their flight path into gray seas above,
quietly wondering
when the rain will cease her
raging temperament, and when
the birds will return,
feather dry.
The eucalyptus releases
that have witnessed
leaves twisted in damp bundles
I mourn with them,
a pungent flow of tears
after the great storm,
sour overflowing eyes
the supreme practice
of a scolding season.
I stand amongst fallen branches,
of bitter defeat, smelling
the blood of their inaptitude
to remain faithful to the larger body.
bending to the slant of the wind
and believing the day was well spent,
even in the weight of brooding trees
and broken bearings.
All text and images in The Central California Poetry Journal are copyrighted. Copyright by © by Scott Galloway 2001. All rights are reserved. See main Journal page for
copyright information.
Authors and poets submitting original materials to this journal retain all rights to their original work, except those rights specifically assigned in writing to Solo Publications including the right to publish the submitted work in The Central California Poetry Journal. The poems on this page are copyrighted by the author. Copyright © Elizabeth Fuller 2001.
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