city in repose
a mirage these days
can we turn back the clock
i don’t understand
when calm and love
made their exit from the scene
or were they a mirage too
Photo of Boston taken July 4, 2016, looking down the Charles River at sunset.
Author: lillian
Loner
She walked away
many years ago.
Chose overgrown trails
sun tipped wild roses
and unflinching stars
on the backroad of life.
Photo taken in Mt Rainier National Park.
i am…a frog?
like a pollywog
but continual
constant metamorphosis
life’s playpen journey
never habitual
every step negates that
sister, wife, mother,
teacher, painter, dancer,
sometime-poet
daughter
daughter is missing
from the list
pollywog always
pollyanna mostly
metamorphopolly
named wrong
should be polly
could be…
because
i am…
we are…
you are…
a becomer
photo credit: Hyunhee Park
Owl
Natural beauty, serene
sits in aura of pine tree wisps.
Feathered creature.
Brown, taupe,
shades of ebony and white.
Round face pivots not.
Stoic eyes stare
as voyeur camera
takes its shot.
Amazing photo taken by my niece, Charli Michele Gruenwald, in her back yard. She lives on Lopez Island in the state of Washington.
City Life
Steaming, sassy, sultry,
she rules the hood.
Stares defiantly.
No mercy.
Sidewalks, front stoops
hallways and flats
simmer under her glare.
She dares you to be cool.
That sweltering summer sun.
Listing…
…as we round the bend.
Steps less sure, pace more slow
hand in hand, loving still,
leaning toward the end.
Passage
Slivers of stardust
xxlie
xxxin
xxxxhis
xxxxxpath.
Stairway to heaven
lightens the way.
Night Time Nostalgia
nights etched in mind
black water glistens
harbor lights beam on sea
shadow figures lean toward wind
far away music starts and stalls
tree frogs serenade the stars
stars peek from black sky
Bermuda’s scrim of night
Photo from our deck in Bermuda, just before the stars came out in force….in February. We were right on the harbor….so many beautiful evenings! Prompt is from my recent June class — write a poem of nostalgia.
Scentalicious
Backyard lilac walk-about
honeysuckle and new cut grass
leaves piled high, burning bright
apple-pie-oven and baking bread
grandma’s wrinkled talcum skin
gingerbread men and cinnamon
outside pine tree brought within
season by season,
scentalicious all
Written for dVerse Poets’ Pub with Grace tending bar today. Today’s Poetics asks us to write a poem about scent.
Still Life
Paint me a rose garden
petal by petal
thorn by thorn
a microcosm of life.
A primrose kind of gal
petite with pastel temper,
wed to a brooding man,
morose and prickly by nature.
They live in a rosemål house,
flowers etched in love.
It’s quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets’ Pub with Bjorn tending bar. He asks us to write a quadrille (poem of 44 words) using the word rose (primrose, morose, rosemal). Photo is an example of the Norwegian art of rosemal.
lillian the home poet 