Cherished

Building a Reality

lillian26 Comments

People are different.
Color, ethnicity, gender,
religious beliefs, language,
citizenship, culture.

Gather them all in one place,
in concentric circles
facing each other, holding hands.
Each circle defined by a trait.

Note: circles have no beginning or end.
He who joined first disappears.
She who joined last disappears.
All are integral to their circle.

Herein lies a truth of geometric principle.
Concentric circles differ in radii
but have the same center point.
And what is that same center point?

As Maya Angelou famously wrote,
“We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.”
The center point is our humanity.

Sadly however,
truth is not constructed reality
when the builder is a demolitionist.


Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets across the globe. Today I am hosting: go to https://dversepoets.com to see the prompt this poem is motivated by.

Meandering Through Life

lillian14 Comments

I roam this curving shaded path.
Hopscotch through my youth in rompers
skinny legs, scraped knees, curly hair.
Naively sweet and unaware.

In my myopic teenage years
I roam this curving shaded path.
Blinders on, friends all important.
Time flies, motion undetected.

Parenting years, our sweet children.
Together we laugh and love as
I roam this curving shaded path
encouraging strong roots and wings.

Now approaching eighty years young
with less trail ahead, we rest more.
Your love, holding the light high as
I roam this curving shaded path.

Written for Meet the Bar Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Laura asks us to write a Quatern. That is a poem of 16 lines, divided into 4 quatrains (4 stanzas, each with 4 lines). Each line must have 8 syllables. There must be a repeated refrain that is the first line of stanza 1, the second line of stanza 2, the third line of stanza 3, and the 4th line of stanza 4.
Photo from a vacation some years back.

Seasonal Reflections

lillian8 Comments

In the waning days of autumn
nature sheds its hilarity.
Crimson red, halloween orange,
and golden yellow leaves shrivel,
lose their vim and fall.
Farmers’ fields, stripped of crops
seem eeirly clold and barren.

I seek warmth, light and respite.
Candles lit, afghan wrapped,
mulled wine and book at hand,
I hibernate.
I am, afterall, a creature of nature.
Slowed by age
and sensitive to seasonal biorhythms.

Shared with dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Friends Over Time

lillian24 Comments

Time moves incessantly
     ambles as we stroll
     rolls as we revel
     cascades in times of joy
turning, flowing, always forward.

Time separates, even while moving forward.
Distance added to time.
Friends diverge to their own paths
amble, roll, cascade.
But true friendship transcends time.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Lisa is tending the pub today, as we return from our two-week summer hiatus to celebrate dVerse’s 14th anniversary! She asks us to include the word “turn” in our quadrille: a poem of exactly 144 words, sans title.

My poem today is dedicated to dear college friends, Brian and Cher. I’ve included a few photos from our friendship over the years….the last one is just this past Friday night. Brian and Cher spent 5 wonderful days with us….reminiscing, laughing, sight-seeing, and playing cards at the same card table we sat at with them 55 years ago! Can you guess which photo is from our college days? And which one is from 1974, when our daughter Abbey was born?

Aging . . . Poetically Speaking

lillian6 Comments

When I think of aging
visions of nature appear poetically,
ready to be written across the page.
But my hand tremor sets script askew,
not unlike a preschooler’s
first attempt at printing their name.

Nature’s brightly pink ruffled peony
once perkily perched, quite the showy thing,
gleamed amongst garden’s greenery.
Now droops beneath residue
of last night’s thunderstorm,
struggling to hold its bloom.

Newborn gangly foal tries to gain its footing.
Youthfully romps through riotously colored fields,
bluebells and golden columbine waving in the sun.
Years later, put to pasture,
stands swaying slightly, head down,
eyes clouded, wildflowers a dull blur.

And I myself, mark changes in my body.
Steps slowing down, sometimes falter.
Veins protruding on my hands.
I reflect more and more
on what was, and what is,
and what is to come.

Perennials dance in spring’s fresh air,
stand proudly through their season.
Then wilting, lie down to disintegrate.
But their stock is strong, their lilt not forever gone.
Perennials bloom again and again and again,
one generation gifting its beauty to the next.


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Will be submitting for possible publication in the dVerse Anniversary Anthology.

Image by eetrinde from Pixabay

That Portrait

lillian19 Comments

Chiseled jaw, high cheekbones.
Tired eyes glance sideways,
energy depleted. Joyless.
Her exquisitely shaped lips
rouged deepest red.
Closed, not pursed, yet somehow gentle.
Dark tendrils hang beside her face,
drooping as if exhausted.
Indigo headscarf appears torn.
Disheveled from constant wear
or symbolic of war torn life.
Blues bleed pale into background.
Not thickened red of blood
but bleeding nonetheless.
One lustrous pearl earring hangs coldly,
boldly iridescent in a palette of darkness.
Did she really wear it for the sitting?
Or is it the artist’s one defiant stroke?

Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Image from Pixabay.com

Want to hear and watch poets from around the globe read a poem aloud? Come join us as I host dVerse LIVE on Saturday, June 21st from 10 to 11 AM Boston time. Last time I hosted, we had folks from Sweden, Pakistan, all across the US, Kenya, the UK, Australia, South Africa, and Trinidad Tobago! Come read a poem of your own or just sit in to listen. We’re a friendly bunch. The more the merrier!

To join us LIVE on Saturday, June 21st from 10 to 11 AM Boston time, just click here and scroll down to the LIVE LINK. Hope to see you there!

In a Photographer’s Terms

lillian13 Comments

Everyday wide apertures:
newsprint, television, radio.
Second or third-hand glimpse of another’s plight.
Photographers know
wide apertures provide shallow depth.

Until that day, that’s what I had.

That day, strolling the cruise ship’s deck,
my privileged promenade
was suddenly interrupted.
What I’d read about, heard on the news,
appeared off port side.

A small boat bobbing, barely moving.

Two oars slapped white caps.
In and out and in and out. Out of sync.
Six? Eight people? Dark shapes,
even in bright sun, crowded together.
Struggling, no doubt praying, not to capsize.

Our Captain’s voice suddenly blared.

“There is a small boat in distress.
Our assistance has been refused.
We will remain here until the Coast Guard arrives.
This will not impede our schedule.
You will arrive in Miami on time tomorrow.”

Narrow apertures give a deeper depth of field.

My eyes saw, stared, teared.
Refugees risking everything
for what they deemed would be a better life.
My heart ached at the scene
as did many looking on.

That night we did, as all aboard our ship did.

Enjoyed dinner served on linen tablecloths,
toasted our last night at sea.
Danced late into the night.
Slept on a king-sized bed
and flew home the next morning.

But I’ll never forget what I saw.


Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Dora asks us to “write a poem that conjures a veiw (whether from our travels or everyday life, whether from desire or expeirence) that is colored by the emotion of the moment.” Photo was taken from on one of our cruises that sailed roundtrip from Miami, Florida. It was a good number of years ago but I’ve never forgotten this heartbreaking experience.

Moving On Without

lillian2 Comments

Out of reach.
Shiny brunette hair ~
     with squinted eyes, grey is silver.
Unstoppable energy ~
     spurts are good, naps are nice.
Confidence on stiletto heels ~
     comfort is better.
Faded memories ~
     photo albums roll back time.

Loved ones miles away,
some forever gone.
Living with empty spaces.
Closets of clothes, clocks ticking,
rocking chair, couch, kitchen table.
All are there but emptiness fills us.
The question becomes
what is within our reach
and how do we gird ourselves
to move on, step by step,
as we are left behind.


Dedicated to dear friend, Mary Nilsen.

Join me here to rest, to smile . . .

lillian32 Comments

Might I take a seat here, please,
inside this idyllic photograph?
Feel tall grasses brush against bare shins,
wiggle toes in flower petals and stems.
Gaze at pristeen white barn
settled in among the green,
all quietly still that day.

I would lie back, eyes softly closed.
Breathe in deeply, fresh cool air,
untainted by cruelty, division, or derision.
Eyes open, I would swim deeply
amongst wispy billowing clouds
dancing in sky blue patches above my head.
Then . . . stretching my arms wide,
I would move them up and down at my sides
until a gentle flower/grass angel’s wings appear,
unlike winter’s icey-cold snowy counterparts.

Rising up, I would take two giant steps away,
look down and smile.
There is my impression.
Where grasses and blooms lie flat,
there resides spring’s angel imprinted on the field.

In reality, I hold the photo in my hand.
Its freshness, its simple beauty,
reminds me of that which once was me
many many years of springs ago.
Naively unaware, just living in the moment,
in those myriads of moments,
unaware of bends in the road ahead.


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting OLN (Open Link Night). Writers are welcome to share one poem of their choosing, no required length, format, or topic. ALTERNATIVELY, they may use the OPTIONAL prompt which I provide: write a poem inspired by the photograph above.