We romantics ~
five decades joined,
content to lie still together.
So much love
as fingertips touch fingertips,
lips linger a bit for goodnight kiss.
My wish as eyes slowly droop,
may we rise together in the morrow
joyful for another day.
Written for Misky’s Twiglet # 183 where the prompt is “we romantics” –
Neighborhood eccentric
a bit askew,
dressed for the decades
always strutted her stuff.
Peered out on the sixties
in tortoise cats-eye glasses,
black beret rakishly tipped
atop henna dyed hair.
Artistic in the seventies,
she embroidered purple zigzag
on turquoise gaucho pants.
Donned gaily colored tie-dyed tops.
Now ninety-four,
spiffy on her daily walks.
White gauzy lace gloves
firmly grasp walker handlebars.
Feet move deliberately.
Frilly laced anklets,
inside patent leather
Mary Janes.
Everyone smiles
as she lights up the street,
battery operated bulbs
on her Christmas wreath hat.
Written for Misky’s Twiglet prompt #184.
You are depressing us
with your despicable views
untruths, divisive directives.
Can you step back from yourself,
walk in the shoes of those you call others?
Can you listen rather than spew incoherently?
The world watches as you blunder defiantly.
So you say
only birds gather
to crow and cackle,
perched on wires
their party line?
Yet I see
humans wearing blinders
yes-we-believing
crowing the party line,
trying to keep their perch.
My hope?
I sense winds shifting,
see phoenix regain strength
poised to regenerate
and soar again in truth.
Written for Misky’s Twiglet #181: so you say. Photo from pixabay.com
If only, she said . . .
Abbracadabra
first star I see tonight.
And she closed her eyes
shut so tight.
Oh please, please . . .
then opened wide.
But there she was,
still standing
still waiting . . .
Written for Misky’s Twigletprompt #182: the words “if only”
Merm me –
shiny gleaming teal and aqua blue
magically beautiful and intelligent,
free to explore and dare.
Merm me –
flow, glide, glissade
braided seaweed round my wrists
necklaced in seashells and coral bright.
Would that I could . . .
dive deeply
escape earth’s rancor
and rollick in rolling waves.
Of what good are legs
and human lungs
when hell
is inhumanity on earth?
What if only life within the sea
in and of the sea,
can live and love
within the lunar tides?
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De asks us to write a poem that is somehow related to mermaids. Image from pixabay.com I must admit, I have always been smitten with the idea of mermaids!
Saturday, October 19th, 2013. A beautiful crisp fall day. Our condominium complex drive was cheerfully planted with bright cushion mums. Little did we know in July 1997, when we moved from Iowa to Boston, how important that housing choice and this date would become.
Our condominium high rise building is across the street from side entrances to Massachusetts General Hospital, one of the premiere healthcare facilities in the United States. As some of you already know, on Monday, October 14th, 2013, my husband suffered a six-minute cardiac arrest in front of our building. He was rushed by ambulance to MGH; put into an induced coma on life support. They lowered his body temperature and gave him a paralytic drug to keep him absolutely still, trying to minimize brain damage.
On Tuesday evening, October 15th, his body temperature was slowly raised as he was weaned from the paralytic drug. We were told he may or may not wake up. If he did, it would not be for at least 72 hours and, in all likelihood, he would not be himself. Against all odds, he woke up at 9 PM that night. Wednesday morning October 16th, he was taken off life support, intubation tube removed, and he correctly answered all questions posed to him by a neurologist. On Thursday, October 17th, he was moved to the cardiac step-down unit, out of intensive care. Friday, October 18th, he had a defibrillator implanted. Saturday, October 19th, he was released from the hospital. And in one shining moment, with our son and daughter on either side of him, he walked back home. Back across the street and back into our lives.
dark clouds dissipate – –
honeysuckle blooms again
bees hum in bright sun
Photo is a bit blurry as I was crying tears of joy when I took it.
Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where today I’m hosting and asking folks to write about one shining moment in their lives.
Man, woman
he, she.
Human humanity
their, heir
inhumanity.
Manual workmen
and man hours.
Policeman, fireman
chairman too.
Language affects action.
Live,
love,
be.
Written for Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Anmol hosts and asks us to write a poem about “pride, gender, fluidity, sexuality, protest . . .” Image from Pixabay.com
Rolling hills,
myriad shades of green.
Drive slowly, windows open . . .
Fresh crisp air,
cloudless blue sky.
Drumlins shaped patiently by glacial ice,
Mother Earth’s gentle curves.
Vibrant wildflowers here . . .
flowering brush there.
Stop. Rest.
Inhale the quiet calm.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. We are to use the word “drum” or a form of the word, within our exactly 44 word poem. Image from Pixabay.com
Believe in
Love.
Actually begin to
Comprehend,
Knowingly.
Live today
Inquiring, searching.
View
Equality as
Something
Meant for, but not given to
All.
Take time
To
Explore white privilege as
Reality. And understand,
ACROSTIC: poem in which the first letter of each line, when read from top to bottom, has meaning. Sharing with OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.
TO READ THIS POEM:
1. Read as you would a normal poem, noting the last line ends with a comma,
2. so continue reading by going to the first letter of each line (bolded) and puting these letters together, you have the actual ending of the poem.
lillian the home poet 