Cherished

You Became My Constant

lillian7 Comments

I was not there, the day everything changed.
When was that? When World War II ended?
When Einstein discovered relativity?
When nine-eleven crashed into infamy?

Or when Harry really met Sally?
Or when you simply ate a peach that summer day,
juice deliciously dripping down your tanned wrist.
Somewhere at that moment, I suppose a child was born.

Truth is, everything changes
with every breath we take.
Every pivot, every spin, every loping run,
something new becomes.

Nothing stands still. Except perhaps
sentinel mountains in the Norwegian fjords.
Yet even they are marred by subtle granular shifts
as we gaze up at their rugged rockface surface.

Like when we turned around
and our children became adults.
We noticed when their braces came off that summer,
but we didn’t register the daily shifts.

I don’t understand my image in the mirror.
I know it’s me. But how did it become . . . that?
Wasn’t it just yesterday, I was a brunette
and you introduced yourself to me?

Fifty-seven years later, we walk more slowly,
still hand in hand more often than not.
We’ve passed through so many seasons together,
the path is now longer behind than in front.

And so my love, in this moment
that shall also pass by all too quickly,
I simply must tell you.
I am thankful for every day.
I am thankful for you.

Written to share with dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Saturday, March 18, dVerse will go LIVE with audio and video from 10 to 11 AM EST.

Folks from across the globe will meet face-to-face via Google Meet to read a poem of their choosing, and to visit across the miles.

Click here between 10 and 11 AM Boston time on Saturday, March 18th to join us — you’ll find an easy link that will open in your browser so you can meet everyone. Be sure to click on the SATURDAY link. Come and read a poem of your own OR just watch and listen. We’re a friendly goup and the more the merrier!

Photos: That’s George, the love of my life, and I our freshman year in college – many many years ago. Second photo is of us this past summer.

Seaside Frolic

lillian10 Comments

Sun beams broadly,
watches innocence frolic
on Cape Cod shores.

Arms akimbo,
children leap
through shallow waves.

Water splashes,
tickles skipping, kicking feet.
Laughter punctuates the scene.

If I could, I would capture this joy.
Carry it in a bottle with perforated lid
and sprinkle it on the world at will.


Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Lisa tells us it’s time to play at dVerse!

Photo at Provincetown; our grandchildren many years ago.

Haiku for Glenn

lillian42 Comments

You’re skywriting now,
in stardust and bright moonbeams.
Still, we’ll miss you here.

Glenn Buttkus. Jun 14, 1944 – February 17, 2023.

Born in Seattle, Washington in 1944, he was a movie buff and an amateur thespian through high school, community theater, and college productions. He was accepted into the U of W’s BFA Professional Actor’s Training Program in 1970, then in its third year of existence. He worked in Regional Theatre in the Northwest for a few years, and then relocated to Los Angeles. In 1977, he took a job at an agency for the blind that was located near Hollywood, and he found a new love: special education. He returned to college, getting his MA in Education and worked with blind people for thirty years. (from m.imdb.com)

Glenn was a frequent contributor to dVerse and other online venues. His was a powerful voice at our OLN LIVE sessions. He is already missed.

Image clipped from his last appearance at OLN LIVE.

Who needs a rosary?

lillian4 Comments

Rosary tied to box spring
beneath where my father slept.
God, have mercy on him.
He did not worship You,
but lived You in relationships.

I was taught Papal invincibility
as priests preyed on youth.
They forgave others
behind confessional screens,
required rosaries for penance.

My father,
God rest his soul,
more a father than them.
He didn’t need a rosary,
but many of them did.


Explanation: When I was away in college, I received a phone call from my mother. They’d just had a new mattress and box spring set delivered. And the strangest thing, she said. When they went to remove the old box spring, they found a rosary entwined in the bottom of it. Did I have any idea why it was there?

And then I remembered. When I was in Catholic grade school, learning my catechism, I feared my father wouldn’t go to heaven because he didn’t go to church and he wasn’t a Catholic. So I sneaked into my parents’ bedroom, crawled under their bed and tied a rosary to the boxed spring, on the side of the bed my father slept on. Imagine the indoctrination that happened to make me think that and go to that extreme to save him. I was probably in third or fourth grade when I did this. I just couldn’t understand, I suppose, how such a good man as my father, wouldn’t be allowed in heaven.

Image by Richard Revel from Pixabay

Path to Serenity

lillian31 Comments

We walk quietly through hushed forest.
Tree tops shimmer-emerald in bright sun.
Shaded lower branches,
more soft-hued green.

Leaves wave in gentle wind.
Sunray flickers through foliage,
forms mosaic patterns upon our faces,
upon our soft smiles.

We slowly walk deeper into calm.
Birch trees, conifers, cypress,
scent of damp pines.
Ancient sentinels of passing time.

Powerful strength towers above
as delicate ferns and wildflowers
thrive in earth beside our feet.
We revel in balance before our eyes.

In the midst of raw beauty, we embrace.
Feel strength course through our beings.
We will be back again and again,
witness to the healing of this place.

Dedicated to Rob and Kathy. Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Today, from 3 to 4 PM EST, poets from around the globe will meet LIVE, wth video and audio, to read aloud one poem of their choice, to visit with each other and lend their support to the creative endeavors of all. Come join us HERE and then click on the link provided for Thursday’s live session!

Can’t join us on Thursday?

We’ll meet again LIVE on Saturday, from 10 to 11 AM EST. Join us HERE and then click on the link provided for Saturday’s gathering!

Photo from Pixabay.com

With Apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning

lillian40 Comments

“How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.”

Valentine’s Day,
definitely the time
to answer that query.

One, two, three, four . . .
forty-seven, forty-eight,
fifty-three wedded years.

Seven dogs we called our friends,
two children, nurtured and loved,
five wonderful grands.

Strolling Singapore’s orchid gardens,
admiring Japan’s cherry blossoms,
walking atop the Great Wall.

Meandering beside Lake Michigan’s shores,
through London’s fog, Alaska’s snow,
Bryce’s hoodoos, Yosemite’s trails.

From Iowa to Sweden to Australia too.
Easiest answer to that question?
So many ways over so many years.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, on Valentine’s Day, Sanaa is hosting and asks us to write “plainly” about love.

Photos top row, left to right: summer 1974, pregnant with Abbey, our first child; at the Great Wall outside of Beijing; in Japan enjoying the cherry blossoms. Bottom row: in an underground cave in Bermuda about 8 years ago; and finally, us here in San Diego just seven days ago, February 7th, celebrating our 53rd anniversary! Thankful for every day.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways” — from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43.

Crocus Me

lillian13 Comments

Born in May these many years ago,
amongst lily of the valley
and gaiety of tulips bright.

I am like the crocus
enjoying first rays of spring sun
in the midst of winter’s final stance.

Assertive, I push forward
first to appear,
even when slicked with chilling frost.

During coldest of times
I burrow in found comfort.
Your arms, ready to enfold me.

Like Mother Earth,
you are my home
in every season of the year.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sanaa asks us to “become the embodiment of winter. Tell us what you feel during this season.” Crocus Me is where my muse took me!

NOTE: HOPE you will join us this Thursday, Jan 19, from 3 to 4 PM EST for OLN LIVE . . . OR . . . for the first time, on Saturday, Jan 21, from 10 to 11 AM EST.

You’ll find two links on Thursday’s dVerse: one for Thursday and one for Saturday. Clicking on the link will bring you to a live session with audio and video! Come meet your fellow dVersers and either read one of your poems aloud or just come to listen! The more the merrier! We’re a very friendly bunch!

Timing is Everything

lillian45 Comments

I was never there, the day everything changed.
When was that? When World War II ended?
When Einstein discovered relativity?
When nine-eleven crashed into infamy?

Or when Harry really met Sally?
Or when you simply ate a peach that summer day,
juice deliciously dripping down your tanned wrist
and somewhere I suppose, a child was born.

Truth is, everything changes
with every breath we take.
Every pivot, every spin, every loping run,
something new becomes.

Nothing stands still. Except perhaps
sentinel mountains in the Norwegian fjords.
Yet even they are marred by subtle granular shifts
as we gaze up at their rugged rockface surface.

Like when we turned around
and our children were adults.
We noticed when their braces came off that summer,
but we didn’t register the daily momentum.

Hell, we just celebrated a New Year
and it’s already old. Even this moment.
It’s now the moment that just was.
Did you blink? Did you notice it pass by?

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Merril gives us a list of podcast titles and asks us to write a poem including two of the titles: I’ve chosen “I Was Never There” and “Pivot”. Image from Pixabay.com

This Time of Year

lillian5 Comments

There is a tint of blue
in every Christmas season.
In the midst of Advent purples,
celebratory reds and greens,
in twinkling decorative lights.

There is a hint of blue
despite carolers and tinseled trees,
cookies and gingerbread houses,
marshmallow topped cocoa,
mulled wine sipped from Santa mugs.

Spirits hover round
this special time of year.
Loved ones from generations past,
family members miles away,
those made angels far too soon.

Memories mingle in traditions,
attached forever to ornaments,
long treasured decorations,
holiday photo cards and books,
all brought out this special time of year.

This was hers . . .
he made this . . .
she loved this one . . .
I remember when they gave me this . . .
he made this ribbon rose.

There is a tinge of blue
to every Christmas season.
Reminiscences simmer within our joy.
Many are with us round the tree,
in our hearts if not standing near.


Merry Christmas to all!

To the Love of My Life

lillian24 Comments

Life is candylicious with you.
My Hubba Bubba, my Mr. Goodbar.
My Swedish Fish, my Lifesaver.
My Starburst when darkness falls.

You bring a Bit O Honey
to every single moment we share.
Everyday with you is a Payday,
rich in laughter and love.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish is hosting Quadrille Monday and asks us to use the word “candy” or a form of the word in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Do you recognize the candy names in my poem? Hubba Bubba, Mr. Goodbar, Swedish Fish, Lifesavers, Starburst, Bit O Honey, and Payday. Had fun with this one! Photo is from this past June: me and my Hubba Bubba!