Her goal
to live a pentatonic life
like the piano’s black keys,
always in harmony.
Her Name Was Melody
Author: lillian
Disappearing Hood
Wrap around porch with hanging swing
iced tea chats and potted plants
playing dolls with Junie Z
on a summer night lit by fireflies.
Sliding glass door shut ramrod tight
concrete slab with charcoal grill
removed from prying eyes.
Two steps to double locked doors
reined in yard with triple garage
and wooden horse blinder fence.
The word neighbor? Gone.
It hopped a moving van,
took a right on the expressway
and drove right out of our lexicon.
Carefully I Ask
This prayer I say as dark draws nigh
and she slips off to sleep,
may angels stand their guard nearby
as she dreams softly deep.
And when the sun begins to dawn,
wake to the new day’s light,
tell her she should continue on
the hope is near, within the fight.
Photo from visit to an Orthodox church in Estonia. Post motivated by Daily Photo Challenge and dedicated to my dear friend Louise.
Decision Time
Lines and lines of cars move nowhere
tempers flare, boxed in, horns blare
appointments fester in my mind
hands clamped on wheel,
like talons on prey.
I crave, I need, I must have space.
Foot to brake, pump and pump again
peck my way, inch by inch
peer through smog and fumes
find a seam, create a crack
desperately seeking blue.
I crave, I need, I lust for air.
What if I quit?
Leave it all behind.
Try new wings, not a migratory line.
Free form, to soar, to find
real, life affirming air.
I can, I should, I will.
She Liked to Taste Life
Sample the edibles
while sauntering by a vendors’ stall
savor the sour and the sweet
lemon tarts with a marzipan carrot beside
devour her lover’s kisses by night
and wake up to humorous tidbits
and some evenings, dine by candle light
lick beads of moisture
from her wine glass
while supping alfresco by the sea.
She fancied herself a chef
stirring the pot
and turning up the heat
if it simmered too low.
Written for Margo’s Poem Tryouts, which I recently found thanks to Chalk Hills Journal, a wonderful blog. Margo asked that we find highly-descriptive words relating to a ‘simple’ subject, make a list of those, and then write to those words. I chose the “simple” subject of eating. Photo taken this past summer on the deck in Provincetown….indeed, eating alfresco!
Starring….. Ms. Autumn
One leaf at a time
nature does a slow strip tease
blushing crimson red.
Photo taken last week in Boston’s Public Garden.
The Meeting Place
In my dreams
I often float to Neverland.
No fairies or pirate boys,
just a place where memories live.
Images once trapped in sepia tones
slip through the web of synapses.
The loving dead come visit me
as if to soothe my soul.
Their smiling faces calm me
into a deeper, softer sleep,
assure me, whisper to me
happiness exists here, on this side too.
We are Present
One step at a time
through difficult uncertainty
we navigate ups and downs.
Watch as eagles soar,
stand in wonder at mountains
firmly rooted, standing tall.
Embrace this fullness of life,
a course to learn trust
no matter the challenge.
We live with the good news
blessed in His care,
every day to count.
Photo: Bryce Canyon National Park – mountains extraordinaire. Dedicated to all those facing difficulties looming ahead. A reminder to live in the moment, thankful for every day.
Juxtaposition Tales
He laughed at the brightly colored
bird mobile above his head,
crib swaying slightly
each time his chubby legs kicked
inside the pajama bag.
The premature butterfly,
monarch colors still pale
fluttered lightly, insistently,
beginning to outgrow its cocoon.
She was plump with curves,
delicious for his taste
and he wondered if she would be interested
in a bloke like him.
The tabby cat slurped milk
knowing she could use her paws later
to lick off vestigial drops.
The moon lead him down the path
until he reached the dock’s end,
a point of no return in his fogged mind.
The cricket struggled
to rub his wings together one more time,
his sweet song coming to an end
with the killing frost.
Photo Credit: Juan Sole
…and the Seasons Tilt
Aspens quake in fear
Sycamores pretending happiness
turn smile-happy yellow,
while the Mighty Oak
blushes crimson red.
They know Winter lurks
behind crisp cool autumn air,
her cold heart waits impatiently
to unleash harsh winds,
strip them of their dignity.
They will stand naked for all to see
rattle and shiver with no recourse
while we don puffy coats
bright red stocking caps
and hand knit yellow scarves.
We add layers of color
while they stand
dark limbs exposed,
the transition time
when the seasons tilt.
Photo: October 14, 2015 in Boston Public Garden.
lillian the home poet 