Lisa Zaran

Lisa Zaran Poems

Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.
...

Pale scrapings of people
with lipstick ringed glasses
and cigarettes burning,
and laughter trickling up and down
...

We drink to the night.
To tradition. To the lake's
tinsel. To the goose bumps
crawling across our skin.
...

4.

As if we have
any answers.
Still, we imply.
...

In the room
where I learned how to lie,
to cover my bruises
with long sleeves,
...

6.

She said she collects pieces of sky,
cuts holes out of it with silver scissors,
bits of heaven she calls them.
Every day a bevy of birds flies rings
...

When I drive up
to Cottonwood
to see you,
...

~for Jackson C. Frank

It seems almost too far fetched really,
too difficult to believe.
...

I've lost my place
inside of this dream
where I am walking
along a dark road
...

love is believable
in every moment of exhaustion
in every heartbroken home
in every dark spirit,
...

All around me, the sky with its deep shade of dark.
The stars.

The moon with its shrunken soul.
...

All the men in my dreams
are featureless.
I turn away and there they are.
Staring at me with their spotless faces.
...

To have felt from the center of oneself
a vital truth
as madmen must, each solitary moment,
large or small imbued with importance,
...

~who are they, the great ones?
~Adler

They are the ones
...

15.

Born woman. Go on.
It's farther than it seems,
but okay.
...

Of course, your songs in their bright red melodious coats I jump
into the pocket where your right hand goes, play with your fingers
like they're my own private army of clutches.
...

after, when you are driving
75 miles one way just to get to her
and her wind-touched hair,
bleached white by the September
...

some will be swallowed
by their mothers.
some will outlive their daughters.
far across the waves,
...

19.

He died in January, the smell of winter
will always remind me of him.
The teeming scent of rain on asphalt,
nevertheless I have learned ways
...

drifts in and out of my consciousness
as I take an easy walk through town square,
watching as others toss coins in the fountain,
the wish-want on their faces so clear, I put
...

Lisa Zaran Biography

Lisa Zaran (born Lisa Marie Hoie, September 26,1969) is an American poet, essayist, author and artist. Best known for her poetry collection, the sometimes girl, which was published in 2004 by Inner Circle Publishing. The vignette style poetry has been studied and translated at Haupt- und Realschule Grossheide which is located in Lower Saxony (Niedersachsen) in North-Western Germany. The course was taught by Frau Erdbrügger. Born in Inglewood, Los Angeles, California to a Norwegian father, Leonhard Hoie and an American-Norwegian mother, Joan Ablett, Lisa was a middle child with two older siblings and one younger. Zaran moved over forty times before the age of sixteen across the western United States and Alaska, living in such varied places as New Mexico, Alaska, Oregon, Arizona and California. She attended both public and private schools as well as several Lutheran and Christian academies. Zaran spent much of her youth reading poetry and listening to music through her older brothers closed bedroom door. The major poetic influence in her young life was James Whitcomb Riley, Thoreau, Walt Whitman and the Bible. Musical influences included The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Mozart and Luciano Pavaratti. She penned her first poem entitled Hallway at the age of six. Throughout high school Zaran contributed pieces to her local high school paper with the author listed as anonymous. In 1990 she married and within two years had two children. Zaran began to write 'the sometimes girl' in the early years of her marriage. The collection is most noted for its ability to say the right thing for all times. The work is also considered 'unpretentious, intensely personal and honest'. Soon after the publication of 'the sometimes girl' in 2004, Zaran emerged as a poet who allowed an infinite access to the core of her existence with such noteworthy works as 'Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen', 'Girl', 'Leaves', and 'Tenderness'. Zaran went on to publish You Have A Lovely Heart (Little Poem Press,2004) , a chapbook which explores the beautiful and richly detailed Southwestern landscape of Arizona. In 2005 she released a 22 poem collection online at Argonauts' Boat, almost as a prelude into her next full collection entitled The Blondes Lay Content (2006, Lulu Press) . Another chapbook was published as well in 2006, Subtraction Flower, which she dedicates to her mother. Zaran's work continues to appear in magazines, journals, ezines and anthologies worldwide. Four selections from The Blondes Lay Content are to be translated to Bangla, a language of Bangladesh. Her poetry appeals to young and old alike but it is through the young that she has won her largest fan base. Over twenty schools, K-12 and college level students, have studied her work and prepared essays, academic papers, debates and contests. Zaran continues to write as well as speak at poetry festivals. In January 2007 she founded a poetry journal, Contemporary American Voices, whose goal is to encourage and carry out through publishing the art of poetry. Official Website: http: //www.lisazaran.com Journal: http: //www.contemporaryamericanvoices.com Unofficial links and resources: Wikipedia: http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisa_Zaran Famous Poets and Poems: http: //www.famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/lisa_zaran)

The Best Poem Of Lisa Zaran

Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen

Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.


I stand at the closet door, my hand on the knob,
my hip leaning against the frame and ask him
what does he think about the war in Iraq
and how does he feel about his oldest daughter
getting married to a man she met on the Internet.


Without eyes, my father still looks around.
He sees what I am trying to do, sees that I
have grown less passive with his passing,
understands my need for answers only he can provide.


I imagine him drawing a breath, sensing
his lungs once again filling with air, his thoughts ballooning.

Lisa Zaran Comments

Natalie Tsacoumangos 31 July 2009

Liza Zaran (that's how it was spelled on a pamphlet at Danville Community College) came to the local community college here. She read a few of her short poems and talked a little about how she began writing, and what it has meant to her. You could tell that she is very emotional about what she writes even if it is just a little one or two line statement. It has a very heavy meaning for her, and for many who read it. She encouraged me to be a little more brave about sharing things that I write. Now I just need to figure out how to get it out there for people to see!

7 13 Reply
Max Reif 19 July 2005

I'm surprised to find no comments here. I find your poems fascinating. 'Intriguing', I was thinking, and the next second, came across that word in 'Hair'. You have a great facility for creating lines. Your poems go a bit beyond my rational ability to put them together, sometimes, but I feel it's a good stretch for me. I hope you'll post more as time goes on.

12 2 Reply

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