wave after wave,
battered vulnerable shore.
Split assunder
droplets splayed like angry spittle,
fury unleashed.
Photos taken in Bermuda.
Feels like
Author: lillian
Wish
Fantasy me.
Pull the moon within my reach
sprinkle stars in my palms
open my eyes to untold mysteries.
Let me journey through life
unabashed and brave.
OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Come join us and share your words or imbibe the thoughts of others. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo is in public domain.
Hoyle Be Damned
This ain’t kitchen bridge.
An arrangement of tricks,
points scored below the line.
Kibitzers watch dumbfounded.
Self-sufficient suit
forced into dummy hand.
Duffer without finesse,
unbalanced distribution
trumps again and again
to win
the grand slam.
A second poem for Dverse, Tuesday Poetics…using the word “bridge.” Apologies to Hoyle’s rules for bridge…..and yes — metaphor applies. For those of you unfamiliar with the card game of bridge: kitchen bridge is a social game with little emphasis on skill; all of the following are terms used in bridge and may be found in the Hoyle’s book of bridge terminology/rules: tricks, points scored below the line, kibitzers (nonplaying onlookers), self-sufficient suit, dummy hand, duffer (bridge player of inferior ability), unbalanced distribution (has to do with the cards in your hand), trump, and grand slam.
Alone
Stripped naked of hope
she sat hugging knees to chest
sole embrace,
soul distraught,
done with dreams.
Photo in public domain. Misky’s Tuesday Twiglet prompt #6 : “done with dreams.” A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Maybe two. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought.
Each night . . .
slipping from here to there,
drifting toward sleep
my hand reaches for yours.
Fearful still,
I will not let you cross alone
this darkening nocturnal bridge.
Fingers interweave. I wait. I listen.
Soft even breaths become my evensong
and I succumb to dreams.
Hosting the dVerse virtual pub for poets today. I’m asking folks to write a poem that contains the word “bridge.” So many possibilities! Come join us – bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
1950s – haibun memory
There were no cell phones. No super highways. No air-conditioned cars. We rode with the windows down and used paper maps. That summer we drove from Waukegan, Illinois to Cape Cod. My mother often sat with her feet up on the dashboard and her full skirt pulled way above her knees. She hated the heat. “We’re finally there,” my father said as he pulled off the road. I was in the back seat, playing with my Revlon doll. There were small cabins scattered around the driveway and you could barely see the ocean at the end of the dirt road. A man ambled over and my father asked “How much?” I don’t recall the amount or the cabin number we stayed in, but I do remember clearly what the man said next. “Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds stayed here last night.”
sand dunes on Cape Cod
wind swept over many years
memories lost to time
Lady Nyo (Jane) hosts dVerse Haibun Monday and asks us to write about a memory from childhood. Given the recent deaths of Carrie Fisher and one day later, her mother Debbie Reynolds, it seems appropriate to write about this particular memory. In terms of a timeline, Revlon dolls were made by Ideal, beginning in 1955. Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds were married from 1955 – 1959. Haibun: a paragraph or two of prose (not fiction) followed by a haiku. Photos: Cape Cod National Seashore near Provincetown. How serendipity that I now live in Boston and since 1998, have spent one or two weeks every year in Provincetown, Cape Cod.
Snow Visions
i.
Thunder snow
rare glimpse of winter anger
snow angels disappear in gales.
ii.
Softly swirling snow
heaven’s hushed lullaby
midst city streets and sounds.
iii.
She stands by her window
wrapped in color splashed comforter.
Forehead on cool pane, eyes closed,
her thoughts begin to drift
like falling snow on once green mounds.
Photo: From our window…looking out on Boston as snow piles up on ground, trees and window sill.
this early morn
outside my window
snow falls silently
large delicate flakes
slow motion cascading white
The Crank
As the argument unfolded
he sputtered and clanked,
like a cold radiator
cranking up the heat.
Twiglet Prompt #5: “cold radiator.” A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Maybe two. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. The idea is to create a poem or piece of prose using the twiglet as the jumping off point – the shorter the better! New twiglet prompts appear each Tuesday — join the fun!
What’s your history?
Adam and Eve’s tale
created a history.
Two genders. Two roles.
From prehistoric eras
came seminal works,
histrionic characters
assigned to mankind.
Hissy fits to machismo.
Words whimpered wrongly,
like hysterical mis-spelled.
Time now to accept
the herculean tough task.
Too often not heard
unless we are herd, enmasse.
Cherish who we are.
Do not say female or male,
women versus men.
We shall march a million strong,
support each other.
Our bodies, our minds, our love.
Together we can, we will.
Gayle hosts dVerse today and asks us to write a CHOKA: an unrhymed poem with lines that alternate 5 and 7 syllables, ending with two 7 syllable lines. A new form for me…and quite a challenge to make the sense of the poem be the reader’s main focus rather than the framework of the 5-7-5-7-5-etc-7-7 syllable requirement. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
Two explanatory notes for the poem: 1) I’ve always been interested in semantics and the power of language; applauding the movement to more inclusive language as in “fire fighter” rather than “fireman” and “work hours” rather than “man hours.” Many changes like these have concretized in our language over the years and, I believe, affected perception. This poem looks at the place of gender specific words within words. Note the italics. There are many many more one could use. I find it an interesting exercise. 2) Jan 21, 2016 is the Women’s March on Washington with simultaneous similar events around the country. My daughter and I shall attend the one in Boston. Hence the reference at the end of the poem. I should add ,persons of both gender/sex are highly encouraged to attend these events!
lillian the home poet 