Life

The Innocence Project

lillian13 Comments

Hope for the wrongly convicted.
False confessions
coerced confessions
eyewitness misidentifications
forensic science errors
public defenders inexperience.

Cell doors clang shut
futures stunted
tears long since evaporated
possibilities suffocated
except
the Innocence Project has my name.


Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Melissa asks us to consider the song, “Folsum Prison Blues”, written and performed by Johnny Cash. The first four lines of the song are
“I hear the train a-comin’,
it’s rolling ’round the bend
And I ain’t seen the sunshine
since I don’t know when.”
Melissa asks us to write a poem inspired by the song….and by Johnny Cash actually going to Folsum Prison and singing to the inmates.
The Innocence Project is an organization that works toward the release of prisoners who are wrongly accused and imprisoned for crimes. To date, their organization has succeeded in the release of 250 innocent prisoners. The Exonerated Five (formerly the Central Park Five) are some of the more famous individuals who benefited from their work.
Image by Daniel Vanderkin from Pixabay

A New Year’s Resolution, in alphabetical form

lillian9 Comments

Abracadabra
because I want a magician’s wand to
change what was into what was not and what could be.
Defy divisiveness,
effects of hatred, and speaking of the “us” versus the “other”.
Forge ahead to find new paths.
Gather those who want positive change.
Hand in hand with hope, honesty and just
intentions, may we begin to
just listen. Truly listen
knowing we are all located within the same sea of humanity.
Listen and listen more. Open our ears and hearts.
Make a concerted effort,
not numbing the pain of others into
oblivion.
Prayer is not enough. In the
quest for healing, we must
reflect on what could be and make it so. It may
seem
tenuous
until we verbally and actively
validate the
worth of all God’s people.
Xenophobia is not an option.
You and I, if we’re honest, also have roots in other places.
Zest and good will toward all humanity: may it be our Resolution for 2026.

Written for Meet The Bar night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. We’re asked to become Abecarians: Create a poem of 26 lines where each line begins with a letter of the alphabet and the letters are sequential. I’ve written from A to Z. Not the first letter of the first word in each line. Image from Pixabay.com

Building a Reality

lillian39 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.

Reality / Truth?

lillian18 Comments

He or she or it peers out from window’s side.
Black obsidian-like pupil
orange incandescent iris.
Half there, half hidden.
All knowing? Fearful? Oblivious?
Seer by unearned reputation
among feathered fowl.

I arrange alphabetical letters.
Create single words, strung-along thoughts
gibberish with mismatched curves.
Leaked ink stains fingers,
dribbles dots on embossed paper
smears black blotches.
Accidental undefined punctuation blobs.

What seers roost among us?
Spew artificial intelligence scenarios.
Indulge everyman, everywoman,
every androgynous human.
Note the ever present “man” in that word.
Want it? Steal it or create it. At the cost of many
for the pleasure of few.

That all seeing obsidian eye?
Taxidermist’s handiwork unfinished.
Half-body only.
Nothing else behind the window.
What you see? Rancid carnage, 
stuffed roadkill. Alternative reality.
This is all we get.
““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I’m hosting the pub’s Open Link Night today, as well as dVerse LIVE on Saturday from 10 to 11 AM EST. Folks can post any poem of their choosing, no required length, form, or topic OR write an ekphrastic poem, one that is motivated by one of three “window” images I’ve provided, or any “window image” of their choosing. Owl image above from Pixabay.com

Join us LIVE on Saturday, October 25th, between 10 and 11 AM EST!!
Want to see and hear poets from around the globe read their poems (all in English)? We’re a very friendly bunch! Come join us to sit in, read a poem of your choice, and/or join in the conversation. Click here and then click on the Zoom meeting link provided (video and audio). Hope to see you Saturday, October 25th between 10 and 11 AM at our LIVE session!

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.

Haikus for October 2025

lillian7 Comments

nature’s cancan skirts
vivid orange, gold, crimson red
leaves delight the eyes

windows opened wide
fresh breezes ruffle curtains
pumpkins on display

witches roam the streets
moms and dads with little ones
door to door for treats

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Dora’s prompt is entitled Tripping the October Light Fantastic. She asks us to write a poem about October. Photo from last October in Boston’s Public Garden.

Haiku Warning

lillian13 Comments

Rooftops cold, lifeless.
No sharing. No caring. Dead
metaphorically.

Values depleted.
Hopper’s view of the future,
stark warning. Resist.

Jarring emptiness.
Where were you when it happened?
Democracy failed.


Today Sanaa hosts OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. We can either post a poem of our choosing OR post a poem related to the image above.

Edward Hopper’s City Roofs. Image courtesy of –   https://www.wikiart.org/en/edward-hopper/city-roofs

I Shall . . .

lillian1 Comment

. . . thrive in this topsy-turvey world.
I shall walk upside down, toes in the stars,
leaving diamond shaped footsteps in the sky.

When down is up and in is out,
I shall put my forearms in earth’s rich soil
wiggling my fingers like squiggling worms.

I will be a handstand acrobat
padding through sunflower fields,
pollen dusted elbows attracting bees.

When the sun sets,
I shall ride the moon
kicking stars into nova showers.

I shall hum joyfully in my out-of -tune way,
find greening in deserts, sunlight in shadows,
and I will always smile with hope.

Image by Gerd Altmann 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!

Are You Out There, Uncle Bob?

lillian7 Comments

Never planned to join the circus,
although there is a hereditary tendency.
My Uncle Bob ran away to the circus,
several times. But he always came back.

Never planned to join the circus,
but what a circus we’re living in now!
Twenty-four-seven news cycle,
clown leading buffoons under the big top.

Never planned to join the circus,
but it’s tempting to become an escape artist.
I’d lose myself in romance novels and Netflix,
or any kind of my own-made cocoon.

Uncle Bob, if you’re anywhere out there,
somewhere in the cosmos,
help us find our way back home again.
Just like you always did.

Kim is hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. She asks us to write a poem “that starts with a surprising hook, which can be one to three lines, but must develop into a fully-fledged poem.”

A bit of explanation: in a few years, I’ll become an octogenarian. I actually did have an Uncle Bob, who every time his wife became pregnant, ran away to the circus. Absolutely true – he had four children so he ran away four times! But he always came back- well before they were born. He was a wonderful uncle and as my childhood memories recall, had a lot of fun with his kids.

PS: here in the U.S., this is no time for any of us to be escape artists. It’s time to speak out, stand up, and resist!