Author: lillian

Aunt Flo

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Old Glory flaps in the breeze
red and white stripes unfurled,
grommets clank against steel pole
as I walk by in a rush.

You loved the beauty of our flag.
You actually lived the flag.
The greatest generation, and you a woman,
a Naval Commander among them all.

Young girls should know your name.
Short in stature, you stood tall
saluted boys and turned them back into men
healed so many, traveled so far.

So many times we sat at your table
ate lemon meringue pie
and rolled the Yahtze dice
the infamous photo above our heads.

You and Admiral Nimitz, side by side.
One honored hero, known by many.
The other, slipped through time
a silver haired, kind old woman.

The wind stops, the clanking too
and I stand still remembering you
in that faded black and white photo
of your glory days.

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Florence M. Frazier,  1915 – 2010. Former Commander in the U.S. Navy. Photo is from Aunt Flo’s visit to us in Boston, celebrating her 90th birthday. At our urging, she brought one of her military caps. We took her to the nearby Charlestown Navy Yard and visited this ship.  As she boarded and as she walked on deck, every military personnel we met saluted her.  It was an absolutely magical day!
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz was Commander in Chief of the U.S. Naval Fleet in World War II.

Off Course

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I’d travelled through time, hopeful to visit the genteel days of Jane Austen’s world. Instead, the calibration mechanism slipped and catapulted me into a reed-covered pond.  Scrambling out of the machine, the corrosion was evident. How far off course had I come?

Sopping wet, I stumbled down the nearby path and came upon them: three young girls writhing on the ground. Suddenly they rose in unison, pointing at an ashen-faced red-haired woman in the surrounding crowd. “It’s her,” they screamed. “She’s the witch! Take her to the pond and test her!”

And they moved toward my beloved machine.

dale-rogerson

Photo by Dale Rogerson.  Word Count: 98
First try at flash fiction using this week’s prompt photo, provided for Friday Fictioneers. Requirements: 100 words or less + photo attribution. Boston is a commuter rail ride away from Salem, Massachusetts — alive this time of year with reminders of its witch trial days! Not sure I’ll continue writing in this genre — but fun to try!

Trippin’ through 100 Words

lillian11 Comments

She got up on the wrong side of the bed
to a cacophony of sound.
Cats with top hats chased red booted unicorns
down the neon road
beneath her webbed feet.
Flamingos squawked,
slipping up a red licorice slide.
A bubble floated by
with Dorothy and Toto on a hammock inside,
stretched from one iridescent curve to the other.
She wanted to climb inside and lie down
or find some peppermint tea.
She licked her fingers
and slowly remembered
those funny looking mushrooms
on the other side of the bed.

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Photo taken on our Alaska hike through the Tsongas Forest.

Here But Not

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stockvault-macaw137674  photo credit:   Geoffrey Whiteway

The macaw flew out the window
and my world became inescapably grey.
Poe’s raven without naming text
no black, no white.
Like peering closely at a newspaper,
pica type-print not visible
only paper fibers
etched in fine lines of shaded grey.
Guaranteed indelible ink
smudged by presses.
And no voices.
Only empty word bubbles
suspended from flapping mouths.
Filmed eyes watch stick figures
slink nearby in slow motion.
What happened to me that day?
The day the macaw flew out my window.

Dedicated to those who live in the throes of mental illness or depression,
invisible too long.

Disappearing Hood

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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

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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.

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Photo from visit to an Orthodox church in Estonia. Post motivated by Daily Photo Challenge and dedicated to my dear friend Louise.

Decision Time

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traffic jam

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

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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.

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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!