Author: lillian

Film Noir, Take 43

lillian46 Comments

Blissful dream deteriorates.
Breeze flickers, curls, skips, dances.
Spice jar creaks, spills open.
Greenish ghosts spring free,
grinning, shimmering, twisting.
Breathless whisper sounds echo.
Clouds balloon, bubble, spark storm.
Drizzled rose-red blood-shadows
pepper dawn. Hope melts.
Journeyman giggling fearfully,
leaves scarred.
Cue still lull.

ghosts-2223229_1920

Grace hosts dVerse today. We must include the word “creak” 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 43 words given in the series thus far: creak, 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!

Haibun for Geiranger

lillian46 Comments

Floating on a massive cruise ship, some days with ocean on every side as far as the eye can see, I am reminded that about seventy-one percent of the Earth’s surface is water-covered. The ocean makes up about ninety-six percent of that. I am one person among two-thousand-plus, traversing just a portion of these waters on this day, in this place.

Docked in Geiranger, Norway, the fjord rises up around us. We rest at the feet of Mother Earth. Her shawl of earthen tones and greenery spills out from the sea. Her pearlescent snow capped peaks rise far into the sky. Off ship, we feel very very small. A motor coach takes us up a winding road; so steep the bus seems angled in a partial recline position. We stop where snow makes further progress impossible. Spring melt has just begun. Stepping out into fresh, clear, crisp air, we look out and down. Our ship is dwarfed by the mountains. While the ocean occupies more surface space, landmass leads in terms of relief, colors, and grandeur. I stand, a speck amongst generations who have lived before me and those who will live after me, absolutely mesmerized.

winter’s snow-capped peaks
deter footsteps upon the pristine
Seven Sisters wait patiently

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Bjorn hosts Haibun Monday at dVerse today, asking us to write about water. In homage to Bjorn’s Scandinavian roots,  I’m writing about our cruise through the Norwegian fjords. The Seven Sisters are magnificent famous falls in the UNESCO-protected Geiranger fjord. Alas, since the spring melt was just beginning when we were there, five were dry and two were quite small in output. They need the full spring melt to achieve their grandeur.  Photos taken in this magnificent place. The sun was shifting as we were there. Just a gorgeous day!

Tap Dancer’s Advice

lillian2 Comments

Shuffle your troubles away.
Skip through leaves
listen to their rustle.

Hum three songs –
oldies-but-goodies
from your teen-age days.

Or shuffle off to Buffalo.
That’s a tap dance step
or a change in view.

Shuffle you happy,
shuffle me too.
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I figures these days, we can all use a little humor and something to smile at! 🙂  Photo: a number of years ago, the grandkids hiding then popping out in a pile of autumn’s leaves.

Limited Shelf-Life

lillian15 Comments

Glass blown unicorn
stored on dusty shelf,
grimy and forlorn.
Mocked by pewter elf,
steals its love of self.
Always within sight,
craving touch its plight.

Hear my cries, it warns.
Save me, save yourself.
Magic turns to mocking scorn,
powers drained from self
locked upon on a shelf.
Give me freedom’s light
for only then shall I have might.

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Written for dVerse where Frank hosts today, asking us to write a Chaucerian Stanza / Rhyme Royal poem. 7 metrical lines per stanza with ababbcc rhyme scheme . . . can be up to 3 stanzas. I attempted Trochee Meter: first syllable accented, second syllable not, with 5 syllables per line (well, a couple lines have more than 5).  I am ALWAYS challenged by anything with rhyme and anything with meter. For me, it’s very hard to have the sense/meaning of the poem front and center when I’m consumed with trying to get the rhyme and rhythm right. Always learning at dVerse!  Muse here is a glass menagerie collection my mother used to have on a glassed-in knick-knack shelf.

Single in the City

lillian47 Comments

Perfectly happy
in her narrow galley kitchen,
she planed to outgrow it.
The oversized refrigerator
became her gallery of sorts.
Photos of him taped to the door,
ultimately yanked off in anger
before the catsup was even gone.
New boys appeared and disappeared,
friends she planned to feed into lovers.
Time emptied the tape dispenser.
No boys, just gummy residue.
So she walked in the rain one day
going store to store, on a magnet spree.
Colorful dots. Hearts. Fanciful sayings.
Two bright rainbows.
And one empty royal blue photo frame
she stuck on the far-right upper corner
of the freezer door.
She was, after all, an optimist
through and through.

 

I’m hosting dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Tuesday Poetics and I’m asking folks to walk into their kitchen and peruse their refrigerator! Look inside. Look at the outside. What do you see that strikes your imagination that can be a jumping off point for a poem! Describe an object or use it somehow in a poem. Our refrigerator doors have always been a “gallery” of sorts with magnets and photos and sayings. So, looking at ours, I made up a young woman who uses her refrigerator door in somewhat the same way.
Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.  Come visit and chill out with us today!

Hope-si-diddly-do (a children’s song)

lillian81 Comments

Hope-si-diddly-do
sing a song of happiness.
Care and love shall spin their bliss
hope-si-doodly-do.

Hope-si-diddly-do
dawn shines new, more brightly too
when all join hands and share the light
hope-si-doodly-do.

Hope-si-diddly-do
sing a song of happiness.
Make our world a kinder place
singing do-good-diddly-do.

My granddaughter, Marika, age 9, made up a tune for this and sings it in the video below.

​Sung by Marika, age 9 (my grandaughter). A quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De is giving us the prompt word, “hope.”
I’ve also posted another poem which uses all 42 words (including hope) in this quadrille series: Film Noir Take 42.

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.

face-2580601_1920

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!