Biography of Elizabeth Lindberg
I'm an artist, musician, writer. Born in Maine, raised in Michigan, where I currently reside. I am currently single. I have some of my artwork on my personal website here: Artwanted.com just write in Elizabeth Lindberg to the search slot. I have 16 galleries of sketching, painting, digital art, photography, family, greeting cards, and humor.
I am basically a happy person, with a good sense of humor. I have ultimate faith in God, he takes good care of me. I've been playing music most of my life.
I play guitar, banjo, mandolin, and a little piano.
I love to compose music, and I'm grateful for the gifts of creativity that God has given me, and enjoy sharing them.
Elizabeth Lindberg Poems
Dreams Can Be Glimses Of Heaven
I hope their are guitars in Heaven, a flute or two would be ok, this is my dream of Heaven, Like Burger King,
God Speaks To My Heart
Open door, breeze on my face, I smell the rain, think of my friend, He has passed, to another place, His long struggle's reached it's end,
Gift From Heaven
My eyes have looked upon a thing, that took my breath away, in the velvet blanket of the night, a star came home to stay,
The guy was just so snarly, I took to him dislike, the more that he was nasty, the more my tongue would strike,
Legend Of Tears
Tears are really jewels you know, none of them go to waste, they're collected by tear angels, soon as they leave the face,
The Legend Of Big Foot
A hairy man once roamed the earth, a hairy thing, was he from birth, the years would come, the years would go, each year that passed, his hair would grow,
A pearl of existence, married to kindness, eliminates blindness, inspires trust,
Seasons of quiet despair, uncertainty is part of life, pain is a given, and loss while your livin, and heartache that cuts like a knife,
Quiet, yet a cricket chirps, one tiny violin, to add music to my dancing thoughts,
An Artist's Mind
Luscious swirls of orange and Red, Oh the passion and emotion! ! sultry blues, that blend the edge, indication of devotion?
Balls Of Clay
He'd found some balls of clay, and puzzled over them, inside a beach-side cave, that was small, dark, and dim,
Once upon a time in Ye old Ohio (really Michigan, but go with me here) lived a writer too dum to use her spell-check,
Should I let you kiss me? I feel your heat, you smile is sweet, but I don't really know you,
Love Is Born
Flame of Heart in Passions Rise, The birth of love, in mystery born,
Balls Of Clay
He'd found some balls of clay,
and puzzled over them,
inside a beach-side cave,
that was small, dark, and dim,
the beach he then did stroll,
he took the balls of clay,
he liked to hear kerplunk,
so he threw them in the waves,