Entwined, enraptured,
engulfed in joy.
Lying still with heavy breath,
my lips rest on your shoulder
taste the sweet salt of love
Author: lillian
Song Fest
Please mouth the words
so we can win.
She did. They did.
And she never, ever
sang again.
Lily Lake
Mid-August.
Car piled full, city girl to rural job.
Staccato palms on steering wheel,
radio Oldies defiantly blares
Summer in the City.
Turn round rural route bend,
foot shifts to brake
shocked by Monet view.
Signal to shoulder, sit mesmerized.
Amana Colonies serenity.
Green velvet leaves blanket still waters,
delicate yellow petals undisturbed
as slick-backed frog leaps pad to pad
finally rests,
centered in quiet setting sun.
December Challenge, Day 5: Start with time/when. Write about a body of water you remember. Include specific details.
Sweet Times
Fourth grade mimic,
knee socks rolled down to puffy anklets
like sophisticated high school girls.
Three nickels clink and plunk,
bus fare to my Saturday dream.
Past Neisner’s Five and Dime
where the mynah bird sqwaks at little fingers,
guards balls and jacks in the wooden cubby.
One aisle over from ladies cotton underpants.
Past Durkin and Durkins, that grown-up place
where daddy buys one suit, every other year.
And there it is, bakery supreme.
Plastic number thirty-four, I wait and wait.
One chocolate éclair please.
Deep, yellow, cold, smooth custard
slathered between puffy sweet dough,
cut in uneven halves. Lips first lick
dark chocolate swirled on top.
Nothing ever tasted so good,
standing on linoleum floor
in black and white saddle shoes,
knee socks rolled down.
Photo Credit: Daniel West. Day 3 Winter Poetry Challenge: Write about a candy or something sweet that you loved as a child.
The March
He watched in amazement from the fifth floor window. He told Melinda it would never work. Her eyes damp, remembering.
But they were coming in droves. From the subway stop. Riding bicycles. Pushed in strollers. In school uniforms and ragged jeans. All colors. All sizes. Children of hope, many with handmade signs.
Hundreds bowed their heads in prayer, and then began to walk from the old Transportation Building to City Hall. Melinda held the banner high. No More Hurting People. Peace Now. Her locket caught the sun and gleamed at him. Their son’s picture within the small gold heart.
98 words. Written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Photo by Roger Bultot.
Battle
They boil in hatred,
witness disregard of life
violence erupts.
She simmers in pain,
cancer invades her body,
prayer uplifts her soul.
December Poetry Challenge, Day 1: Write a two phrase poem: begin by looking out and away from yourself. What do you see, hear, find? Then narrow your gaze, almost as if you were tightening the focus on a movie camera. What’s close at hand? Make these two elements speak as one poem. Employ brevity. Dedicated to a dear friend.
Christmas Memories
Red glass ball,
LILLIAN in first-grade teacher print.
Fragile, egg-shell-thin pink bell.
Crooked winged, the airplane flies
above crayoned Santa, sparse cotton beard,
black boots colored outside the lines.
Me, mother, daddy and my big brother Chuck.
All gone now, save me,
and their three ornaments
carefully hung at the top of the tree.
Bridges
At this age, spectacles sit precariously,
the bridge of my nose their perch.
Magnify life’s past,
forks in the road, hillsides with ruts
sea side suns and city life,
so many bridges forged.
Looking ahead, the distance is less.
Tread slowly the tunnel etched on the map,
transition away from and into the dark.
Or seek light, transition forward
cross o’er the bridge and soar slowly,
glide through the transom and savor the view.
Photos of Zakim Bridge in Boston, MA. Poem motivated by Daily Post Photo Challenge: Transition. Bridges, of many kinds, transition us from place to place.
Respite
houseboat river meander
sun glistened water
rain ping roof and ripple swish base
doe eyes stare from woods across
myriad shades of green
priceless time away
feeds my soul
soothes my mind
city life be gone
Unsettling Found Poetry – Sitting on a Book Shelf
It is a wicked time.
Pride and prejudice run amok
fueled by devices and desires.
Politicians play the confidence game,
endangered values center stage.
The dreams from my father
seem so very long ago.
Sunday drives in the family car,
unlocked doors, porches with swings.
That used to be us.
Today I watch appalled.
Certain trumpets spew vitriolic words.
In cold blood stories litter newsprint pages,
stained red in televised image
too often unseen by too many.
Let us pray for a still life
with bread crumbs for everyone,
hope we are not racing a timeline
to the end of [y]our life book club.
Amen.
Created from book titles found on a Chicago book shelf: Wicked by Gregory Maguire, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Devices and Desires by P.D. James, Confidence Game by Christine S. Richard, Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama, That Used To Be Us by Thomas Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum, Certain Trumpets by Garry Wills, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, Still Life With Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen, Timeline by Michael Crichton, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe.
lillian the home poet 