Yarnalicious.
Blueberry, ripe plum
lemony snazzle yellow
pinkorange sherbet.
I touch and squeeze,
trying to decide.
Author: lillian
Louise
She stands on the precipice
life before, a memory
life after, a question
life now, a quest.
In the shadows,
she seeks hope.
Photo taken some years ago in a beautiful church in Tallin, Estonia. Update: My dear friend Louise lost her two year battle with ovarian cancer on Sunday, February 12, 2017. She was a woman of incomparable spirit.
Nature Knew
All they needed
was a gardener’s catalogue.
They should have known.
Tumpet vine,
also known as trumpet creeper.
Common colors, orange and orange red.
Some consider the plant invasive.
Drops hundreds of seeds
sending up suckers.
Keeping size under control
with aggressive pruning
is often necessary.
If allowed to grow,
can easily take over.
Extremely difficult to get rid of.
Containment
is a
consideration.
Prevent the plant
from reseeding
in other areas of the landscape.
Tumpet vine
can work its way
under shingles
and
cause damage
to foundations.
They should have known.
Stanzas 2 through 9 are quoted from two on-line garden sources. Shared with dVerse OLN, the virtual pub for poets where it’s open link time – share a poem of your choice today – no prompt. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come imbibe some words or pour your own!
Fruitopia
He scent her,
over a cup of tea and slice of sole.
His moistened fingertips touched her lips,
lemon balmed her into paroxysms of love.
Twiglet #10: scent of lemon. Misky posts a twiglet every Tuesday: a short phrase, a word, to prompt a thought, a flow or a memory. Artist credit: Girl Holding Lemons by William-Adolph Bouguereau, 1899 -found in wiki art.
Predilection
First grader. Never mulled
no twists, just straight up.
Shaken on the playground,
meets bully spirits with bravado.
Some day, she’ll pass the bar.
And she’ll be the one.
We’ll toast her as she takes the oath.
Hail to the Chief.
Posted for dVerse Tuesday Poetics where De asks us to “mix it up a bit” by using terms having to do with the bar / pub scene, drinking terms. IE in Predilection’s case: mulled, twist, straight up, shaken (not stirred), spirits, bar, and toast. The trick is, the poem cannot be about the drinking scene! A fun prompt. Hail to the Chief is the music played at the inauguration after the presidential oath is taken, and thereafter when the President of the United States is introduced. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on over and imbibe some words!
Flight
Surrounding reality melts as I seek the comfort of sleep. In that half-aura, lying with eyes closed, weight of quilt on chest, I work to release tense shoulders, facial muscles. Within my mind’s eye, weightless arms rise, outstretched. I float above my body, cares released, and soar into the night.
heron, tense, alert
dives hungry into dark sea
soars with silver fish
Björn hosts haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Photo credit: Bird Sirin by artist Sergey Solomko. We’re asked today to find artwork that does not illustrate our haibun, rather compliments its meaning. Haibun: short prose, not fiction, followed by haiku. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
A stopping place . . .
Simplicity is a roomy closet, an empty drawer,
stars overhead and terra firma souls.
Memories and dreams conjured
from maps, photo albums, paper and pen.
Long walks in whatever weather,
wherever place, your arms round me.
Thankful for everyday.
Tobacco Bay. Ten minute walk from our rental in St George’s, Bermuda.
It’s a ball . . .
toss it up for grabs
till it falls foul
dance it quick-step
fast as you can
beach it
with head buried in sand
wad it
tear soaked tissues in hand
or
just get some!
Written for Misky’s Twiglets using the words “It’s a ball.”
Bermuda Winter
Bermudean seas
aquamarine ripples glow
sun kiss dappled waves.
70 degrees and sunny today in Bermuda.
Imaginary Friend
My Namrah, fantastical beast,
is always waiting near.
When fear accompanies darkness,
I know he will be here.
He flies me to the shining stars,
appears within my dreams.
Lifts me up on widespread wings
and soars through sequined streams.
Frank is our guest host at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and asks us to write a poem in common meter. This is one of the most difficult types of poetry for me to master. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
lillian the home poet 