Among the quiet
full bloomed beauty seen by all
blushes tints of pink.
Author: lillian
Beloved
Through tiers of life
your spirit
my muse
always.
In response to the Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: what (or who) is your Muse?
Across the Street
Consumed by work
pinstripe suit sits hunched
fingers click print, delete
legs walk then fold
break time
crystal vase of carnations
on white draped table
lips sip wine, talk at and smile
phone alarm chimes
legs cross the avenue
and return to work.
Consumed with work
hard hats firmly planted
hands pound, lug, drill
bodies climb, squat, and reach
break time
blue lunch bucket snaps shut
legs dangle from ibeam ledge
mouth gulps thermos coffee
foreman shouts warning
legs stand tall
and return to work.
Transition
She stood at the crossroads of dusk
mourning smile upon her lips,
and slowly stepped across.
Unexpected
Seven squares sit empty
in front of the number circled in red,
preceded by months of exes. Solid black lines
crossed at the exact middle point.
Belly so big, feet are questionable.
End of season sweet corn devoured,
dripped butter solidified on plate’s edge.
Slab of apple pie about to be devoured.
Fork stops. I stop. Puzzled. Wet.
Not like a dam’s breech,
more like the trickle of a creek.
Not exactly by the book.
Wheels spin, gravel crunches,
rocks spray at mewling farm cats.
Roads rush by.
Do you feel the earth calling you,
my moans stalling you?
Years later, we wait impatiently,
while you adjust lipstick, stalling.
This time, we’re ready.
But you’re not.
Effigy Mounds
Fire burns crimson hot
against night’s black sky.
Thousands of eyes stare
through nature’s scrim.
Souls stir
below ancient burial mounds,
spew bits of stick ash
into sacred space,
angry at our trespass.
Fireflies
Iowa fireflies
dance with stars
against the black backdrop
of eternity.
Once trapped
within a glass jar
their magic dims
like childhood dreams
whimsical
wistful
gone.
Garden Haven
A reflection pool lies elongated
surrounded by earth-tone tiles
lacey leafed trees, like still life
mirrored on water canvas.
Serene in symmetry,
myriad shades of soothing green
white clematis peek from vines
cascade down ancient stone walls.
Meticulous care by some invisible hand
so evident in this magical place
we tread lightly, voices hushed
afraid to intrude.
Junie Z.
West School, still here.
That metal bar around the schoolyard,
smoother now. So many years
of little hands sliding along its surface.
I bend low, touch its coolness
and you’re with me again.
Junie with the short dark hair.
Eyes closed, I see four anklet socks
in plain brown mary janes
kick up and over the rail,
cotton dresses in laughing faces.
Up the street, a car alarm blares.
And just like that,
your laughter floats away,
my hand lifted from the bar.
WRITING PROMPT in my June Challenge class: recall a memory of someone, what provoked the memory — a scent, a place?
Crayon World
Color me rainbow happy
your Red Sox cap next to my blue visor.
We sat in bright colored Adirondack chairs
kite string loose, then tight,
as you played with the tension.
Our dreams sailed high into cloudless sky
paled only by your art deco shades
as you stared out, looking for words.
Color me livid when you talked about her,
like lightning flashes in a raging sky.
Anger fueled by heat, dissipated over days of grey.
Rainbow chairs sit empty, lined up, waiting.
Color me invisible, when the door closed.
Photo:
from Provincetown, on Massachusetts’ Cape Cod. Poem and photo in response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge to interpret ROY G. BIV — the memonic to remember colors of the rainbow.
lillian the home poet 