Author: lillian

Film Noir, Take 42

lillian43 Comments

Breeze flickers,
leaves curl, skip, dance.
Spice jar spills open,
peppers dream.
Freed ghosts shimmer, twist, whisper.
Breathless sounds echo.
Clouds balloon, bubble, spark storm,
drizzle rose-red blood-shadows
scarring green spring grass.
Journeyman grins, giggles.
Fear dawns.
Bliss melts.
Hope dies.
Cue still lull.

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De hosts dVerse today. We must include the word “hope” in a Quadrille: poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.  Quadrille Mondays occur every other week. Each quadrille series includes 44 Mondays: a different prompt each time. We need only include that week’s prompt in our poem. This post includes all 42 words given in the series thus far: hope, spice, free, bliss, dream, fear, flicker, pepper, dance, bubble, grin, lull, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath, scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, drizzle, still, echo, sound, storm, spring, and balloon.  Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.  Come join us!

Poet’s Plight

lillian3 Comments

Words tumble round my head
searching for mates to copulate,
birth meaning upon the page.
Sleep eludes me as words deluge me.
May I write, please?
Spackle paper in alphabet hue.

Night remnants. Darkened window pane.
My muse flickers like candles upon the sill,
fickle handmaid of creativity.
If light begets light
perhaps dawn will quicken her step,
drawn to these sputtering flames.

Words slowly seep from pen
cursive dips and curves.
I write tentatively,
then speed the pace
racing to beat the dawn.
And then,  I rest.

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Ms. Ima Character

lillian15 Comments

She chose a lucky-charmed life,
chocolate chip tolls
in the gluten-free lane.

Driveway décor, night-time too,
rainbow arrow from street to door.
Somewhere-over-the  always nearby.

Merry she is, poppin’ about,
never in knots, no-sayer not.
Upside-up, never down-side down.

Lover of music, coda in place
3/4 time is far too slow.
Give her 6/8 and she rushes the gait.

Zingin’ along on her hubby’s zither
strummin’ those dum do-diddley-dos.
She rocks-a-hill billy rockin’ toon
never the deja-vu blues.

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Paul hosts dVerse today, the cyber pub for poets. He’s asking us to mix up our language a bit….forget the grammarian rules. So, read the title aloud. This poem is about Ms. Ima, as in I’m A. And her last name is Character 🙂  I really had fun with this one. How many of the allusions can you catch here? Toll-House chocolate chips, a cereal choice, a famous Julie Andrews movie and a famous Judy Garland song, a number of musical references RE music notation, and a country musical instrument. And yep, that’s me in the photo. A number of years ago goofing around with my grand kids. So I guess you could say, I’m a character too!

shroud

lillian19 Comments

deep within the soil
perennial seed lies dormant
safe from winter’s scorn –
would that I could sleep as sound
oblivious to my pain.

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Frank is hosting today at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He’s asked us to write a poem about sleep or to use the word itself. My post today is a Tanka: 5 lines with a 5, 7, 5, 7, 7 syllabic content.  A Tanka should include a shift in tone after line 3 or 4. Here, line 4 shifts from nature to the personal.  Added note: written in the voice of another.

Primal Desire

lillian55 Comments

Desperate emerald envy.
Brownish grey chameleon
scampers across dirt path,
seeks scintillating shrubbery.
Ah . . . relief,
greening on a leaf.

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I’m hosting dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Tuesday’s Poetics and I’m asking folks to write a poem that includes their birthstone. For example, if you’re born in May, your poem must include the word emerald; January birthdays, garnet; April folks, diamond; etc.  Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come on over!

Film Noir: Take 41

lillian59 Comments

Ghosts invade sugar-‘n-spice blissful dream,
grin, shimmer, twist, skip, dance freely.
Whispers spark sounds, jars echo.

Breeze flickers.
Clouds pepper sky,
curl, balloon, bubble open.

Dawn melts, spills rose-red.
Storm drizzles blood-shadows,
scars green spring grass.

Journeyman giggles fearfully,
leaves breathless.
Cue still lull.

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Mish hosts dVerse today. We must include the word “spice,” or a form of the word, in a Quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title).  Quadrille Mondays occur every other week, for a total of 44 times, each with a different word prompt. We need only include that week’s word prompt in our poem. This post includes all 41 words given thus far: spice, free, bliss, dream, fear, flicker, pepper, dance, bubble, grin, lull, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath, scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, drizzle, still, echo, sound, storm, spring, and balloon.  Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.  Come join us!

Looking Up, I Wonder . . .

lillian39 Comments

Does the sun, obscured by gray clouds,
feel like she’s brushing clammy cobwebs
from her perspiring face?

Do stars sputter when meteorites flash by,
hogging their solar spotlight?

As the moon waxes,
does she feel guilty about her expanding curves?

Does the sky feel belittled
when her brilliant blues blend with ocean hues,
blurring her celestial hemline
with saltwater slurps in a hazy horizon?

Are clouds frustrated
when winds blow them off course?

Do tides falter
when lunar rhythms lose their beat,
as if the maestro’s baton
has developed a score of its own?

Looking up, I wonder . . .

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Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Bjorn asks us to write a poem that consists only of questions. And indeed, we are looking to the skies as Cape Cod is under a tropical storm watch tonight and tomorrow, expecting residuals of Hurricane Jose.

My Pen and I

lillian28 Comments

My writing spills out from a deep cistern of life’s experience. Sometimes a bit dank and dark as the pen dips deeper. But never from the despair of a void.

I am a doer. A make-your-own-sunshine-on-a-grey-soupy-day kind of gal. Cheerleader-tap-dance vigor still runs through my veins. Lean machine, gone somewhat dumpy with the addition of an old age belly, I choose to look up and out, not down. My daughter once said to me, “Mom, every movie can’t be the Sound of Music!” But I do choose the channel, right? Write.

sunflowers smile at me
sheets flap and furl on clothes line
summer of my mind

 

 

It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Toni, our haibun queen, asks us to write about why we write the way we do. Who are we and how does that come out in our writing? My readers will have to decide if they think I’ve nailed this assignment. 🙂

These are two of my all-time favorite photos from Provincetown at the tip of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. We’re in the second week of our annual two weeks here. Even on grey and foggy days, there is a soft beauty to this place! Hmmmm sounds like my haibun! Haibun: a paragraph or two of tightly written prose (cannot be fiction) followed by a haiku. A haiku true to Japanese form, always includes a seasonal word. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Two Lives – Metaphorically Speaking

lillian31 Comments

i.
He lived a crab’s life
sidling through his world
without confronting anything head on.

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ii.
She never knew who she was.
Today, servant to his whims
yesterday his foil.
Tomorrow, his jewel case on display.

In her youth, the obedient child.
Perfect pianist stretching to reach the pedals
daddy’s little girl,
mama’s protegé.

Turn this way, look here.
Here, not there.
Do this. Do that.
Twisted. Manipulated.

She’d led a kaleidoscope life
until all the pieces crumbled,
reduced to shards.

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Two poems, one short, one a bit longer, written for dVerse. Today, Bjorn hosts and asks us to write metaphorically. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.  For those who need a quick review from their highschool poetry unit, very basically stated, a simile is a comparison using the words “like” or “as.” A metaphor is a comparison without using the words “like” or “as.”  Both photos in public domain at http://www.pixabay.com