Author: lillian

Red Ibis

lillian5 Comments

Red ibis frozen in time
blur-stopped wings
millisecond before flight
haphazard photographical luck.

What if
I could bring back
one precious moment
from my life’s entirety?

All would be as it is now
except for a room-sized box
where the moment lives
exactly as it was

and I can step in and out
and in and out
of the box
back into that moment.

Savor and touch
live it again and again
inside the box
whenever I want,

only one box.
What would be
my red ibis
frozen in time?

IMG_9748

Photo taken at Bermuda Aquarium, Museum and Zoo, BAMZ. Posted for Napowrimo Day 7. Prompt is to think of different roles we occupy, different parts of ourselves and then write a poem where two conflicting “selves” have a discussion. Here, the realist talks with the dreamer.

Deeply, Simply, Be

lillian3 Comments

Do simplicity.
Eyes closed, gaze within
picture sun and feel its warmth.
Searching deeper . . .
deeper still . . .
seek the ocean’s glistening path.
Breathe in . . .
and now sigh out . . .
bask in rest within your mind.
Permit the balm, accept its calm.
Slowly begin to open . . .
eyes . . . heart. . . soul.
You are a gift within the gift,
God’s new day.

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Napowrimo Day 6: Pay particular attention to line breaks, pauses, space. A poem a day until its May. April is national poetry writing month.
Photo is Easter morning’s dawn from our deck in St. George, Bermuda. We return to Boston today.

With Apologies to Pablo Neruda

lillian36 Comments

Tus Manos (Part I)                          Your Image (Part I)

Cuando tus manos salen,               Your image curls within my being,
armor, hacia las mias,                    love, unyielding tenant,
que me traen volando?                   will you test my volition?
Por que se detuvieron                     Why is there denial
en mi boca, de pronto,                    as if my time is unhurried,
por que las reconozco                    why is this revealing
como si entonces, antes,                how essential you are to me,
las hubriero tocado,                       like a harbor to the sails,
como si antes de ser                       how is this so hard
hubieran recorrido                        harboring releasing
mi frente mi centura?                    my feelings, my confession?

Pablo-Picasso-Sleeping-woman-Meditation-

This was the most difficult prompt I’ve ever responded to! Day 4 of NaPoWriMo: choose a poem in another language; do not look at the translation. Also choose a photograph (this is a photo of Pablo Picasso’s Meditation). Now, “translate” the foreign language poem into a poem applicable to your photo. Use the “look and the feel” of the words in the original poem but do not look up a translation of the words. I have no idea what Neruda’s original poem says…….so as the title of my post says, “With Apologies to Pablo Neruda”. His words are on the left; mine are on the right. Also posting for dVerse Open Link Night.

Allegory

lillian2 Comments

Standing midst the city bustle
carousel with children chortling
dark-suited briefcase clutchers
people-ears attached to cells
city buses garbed in gaudy ads
taxis weaving, hotly honking
rushing quick-stepping humanity
standing midst the city bustle.

Standing midst the city bustle
lone curbside flower bed
stems bedraggled, drooping heads
once gaily bright and newly sprouted
dulled by daily apathy
straw-color shrivel, stripped to shreds
barely living, shadowed existence
dying midst the city hustle.

NaPoWriMo Day 4. Prompt is to realize the importance of description in poetry. It’s all in the details, hence, no photo today
April: National Poetry Writing Month, a poem a day til the month of May.

St. George, Bermuda

lillian1 Comment

Oh yay! Oh yay!
Deep sounding voice
booms on the square.
Bell clangs loudly
swung in an arc,
beckons tourists
gather ye ‘round.

Voice of St. George,
the place, not the man.
Dressed in short britches
historical garb,
he transports us back
to the ways of the times.

Town Crier by role
he riles up the crowd
condemning a woman,
the gossip of town.
Punish by dunking
those times were cruel,
we applaud them today
for the sport of their play.

Historical town
island country.
Maintaining its past
by living today.

St-Georges-Town-Crier

David Firth, the official St. George town crier, and the woman on the dunking chair, reenact history for delighted tourists. David Firth participates in international town crier competitions and works hard to perfect the voice and look. He also serves as a council man in local government. This is day three of NaPoWriMo and rather than follow the prompt, I wrote this “travel poem.”

Faith Haibun

lillian21 Comments

At times of crisis, injury; imminent danger for a child, loved one or close friend, many of us slip into “bargaining” or pleading mode. Please God, if you let her avoid this, I will . . . ; or Please God, let him make it through this and I will never . . .

This moment was different as I listened to the doctor. He may or may not wake up. If he does, he most likely will not be the same.
I looked at the doctor and demanded, What do you mean, he won’t be the same?
His heart stopped for six minutes so his brain . . .
I loudly interrupted, NO!
I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t hear the beeping machines or see the tubes. I just stared intently at his face, past the intubation tube. Held his cold limp hand and firmly said, He is here. He will return to us. I know it.
It was a statement of fact for me. A moment of faith.

snow covered cold ground
challenging spring to surface
crocus pushed to bloom

spring-awakening-3132154_1920

It’s haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Mish asks us to write about faith. A haibun is two or three succinct paragraphs of prose that must be true, followed by a seasonal haiku. This post also works for Day 2’s prompt for  NaPoWriMo where we’re asked to use “voice” in our post. Prose is in the first/personal voice. Haiku is from the third voice, looking on rather than being in.
I’ve written about this topic before…it’s been five years and those days are indelibly imprinted on my psyche.  We continue to be thankful for every day. 

Last Breath

lillian9 Comments

Stem sticky sap, spent dandelion
clutched in blue-veined hand,
slowly raised to cracked lips.
Eyes wide, she blew, wishing not.
Seeds and tenuous wisps dislodged,
age-old secrets sent to God.

Ali - Dandelion

Officially day one of NaPoWriMo! A poem a day during the month of April, National Poetry Writing Day. Today the prompt is to write about secrets.

Love Letter, Long Overdue

lillian6 Comments

Strewn on the floor
stacked on a spindle,
my teenage love affairs.
Sometimes lying on my bed,
smile plastered on my face.
Sometimes gliding slowly,
watching in the mirror,
arms hugging waist.
Paul Anka, Johnny Mathis,
Harry Belafonte,
and Fabian too.
That plop-down sound.
Then needle stuck in groove,
spun round and round.
Forty-five RPM respite
from teenage angst.
Black vinyl disks,
I adored thee.

Note_lines_horizontal
NaPoWriMo starts tomorrow — April is National Poetry Month. The challenge is to write a poem every day. We begin a day early with an early-bird prompt to write a love letter.

Bermuda, Tanaga Me

lillian27 Comments

*Tanaga – part of an oral tradition going back to the early 16th century. Stanzas of four lines, seven syllables per line; rhyming each line of a stanza on the same rhyme sound.

Just my tanaga and me
watching the dawn blissfully.
Sailboats rest upon the sea
kiskadees sing from a tree.

Fingers tap relentlessly
counting sevens, never three.
Overhead the gulls fly free
soaring, flapping gleefully.

This place holds a history
many a catastrophe.
Shipwrecks buried ‘neath the sea
part of lore and memory.

For all things Bermudaful
for friendships and nature too,
my spirit ever grateful
sadly I must bid adieu.

IMG_9534I shot this panoramic at Horseshoe Bay on the south shore of Bermuda, said to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. We’ve spent at least a month of our past four Boston winters in Bermuda and have come to love the beauty of the country and its people. This is our last year here — as we move on to other adventures next year.

Posted for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Frank introduces us to the Tanaga form. He indicates it comes from the Tagalog language of the Philippines, and does say we may take poetic freedom with the rhyming scheme, which I do in the final stanza.

Recipe

lillian4 Comments

Sunny-Side Up Daze
Serves days of happiness to the populous.

one slash of rain
dash of peppered lightning
stir lightly
fold in one rumble of thunder
set aside for eight hours of sunshine

Goes well with laughter and song.

egg-575756_1280

Written in response to Misky’s #67 Twiglet prompt. A twiglet is a short phrase, meant to prompt a flow. In this case, the twiglet given was “slash of rain.”