Love

A Sultry Summer Dance

lillian11 Comments

Waltz with me, take my hand.
Hear the gulls call to us
fly o’er us, soar for us
dance for us on the sand.

Oceanside, hand in hand
me touching, you wishing
souls in tune, now kissing
three-stepping, lusting fanned.

You’re so strong, hold my hand
dance with me, past the sun
dance with me, past the clouds
through the stars, never land.

Oh my dear, damn this waltz.
Pen down now, poem be done.
Quick-step me, quick-step me!
Now . . . now . . . now . . . never to cease.
Now. . . Now. . NOW!
Ahhhhhhh . . .
release.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Late to Thursday’s post – Bjorn hosts and asks us to consider the waltz in poetic form. For example, the waltz is usually danced in 3-beat measures: 1 – 2 – 3, 1-2-3. I’ve tried to have three beats throughout, so for example, the first line is “waltz (1) with (2) me (3), take (1) my (2) hand (3)”. Tricky. I’ve given it a go and ended up with a waltz on the beach that turns quite bawdy! FYI: the quick-step is another ballroom dance, quite opposite in pacing and attitude than the waltz or tango for example. Image from Pixabay.com

The Stars Declare

lillian5 Comments

Night sky’s scrim beams on us.
Heads tipped, eyes heavenward,
cold crisp air embraces.
Hope gleams bright, if we believe.

Heads tipped, eyes heavenward,
stars shine, diminish doubt.
Hope gleams bright, if we believe,
this truth shall live through pain.

Stars shine, diminish doubt
hearts must open willingly.
This truth shall live through pain,
our love shall bloom again.

Hearts must open willingly,
words must tumble free.
Our love shall bloom again,
night sky’s scrim beams on us.

Late to post to Peter’s prompt for Thursday’s Meet the Bar night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to write a pantoum.
Pantoum: comprised of 4 line stanzas the follow this pattern: 1,2,3,4; 2,5,4,6; 5,7,6,8; 7,9,8,1
In other words:
* the second stanza repeats the second and fourth lines of the first stanza, in its first and third line.
* The third stanza repeats the second and fourth line of the second stanza, in its first and third line.
* This pattern continues until the final stanza which repeats the second line of the stanza preceding it, as its first line; and the first line of the entire poem as its final line.
Quite tricky to write in the pantoum form and still have sense to the poem, without the form “sticking out” to the reader’s sensibility!

Forevermore

lillian17 Comments

Top of the hill. Treeless.
Wildflowers blanket the meadow
canopied by cloudless sky
bluebird blue.
She stands, shear linen skirt billowing
arms outstretched,
face tipped toward afternoon sun.

Long ago declared their place,
they still meet here every year.
This day. This anniversary of his death.
She feels again his touch,
so real within the mountain air.
Yellow buttercups glad to see her,
wave spritely in spring’s breeze.

Delicate petals succumb to wind,
part from stem and float toward her.
Adhere to tear streaked cheeks
just as his kisses did that final day.
Sandals tossed aside,
dew moistened grass licks her toes
and she smiles.

He is with her here.
Their love was real,
still is, and shall be
forevermore.  

Bjorn from Sweden is hosting OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Tonight the pub is live – poets will gather via the miracle of technology, visit with one another and read their poetry aloud. It’s marvelous to connect names with faces and voices. Everyone reads in English and we usually have folks attend from Sweden, India, the UK, the US, Australia, and other places around the globe. Come join us! Image from Pixabay.com

By the Sea

lillian21 Comments

Standing in front of the sea,
she smiles with moon-kissed lips.
I immerse myself,
deeper and deeper still.
Explore her nautilus curves.
Ebb and flow within her wake,
then lie still
as darkness gives way to light
and dawn awakens me.

I lie stilled on deserted beach.
Low tide surrounds me,
as if the ocean bared its soul.
Oh rapturous sleep, I question thee.
Was she real, this goddess of the night?
Or was she but a siren
escaped from far-off craggy coast?
Tears flow from my eyes
staring up at blushing sky.

Spent am I,
splayed out on moist and rippled sand.
And then my fingers feel . . . what?
Something smooth and cool to touch.
A nautilus.
I stare at it in wonder.
Then slowly, lowered to my lips,
my mouth upon its curved edge
I whisper hoarsely,
I shall return tonight, my love.
You are my destiny.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where it’s Tuesday poetics and we are asked to explore erotica in poetry. I like to think of this as romantic rather than erotic. Simply my choice of words. Photo taken last year in Provincetown during a full moon.

Solace

lillian9 Comments

Like a peregrine
caught in a tailspin,
hard pressed
to find calm within.
To escape the din,
to rest,
seeks his lover’s inn.
Ah sweet nest of skin,
sweet breast.

Form of poem is a Lai: nine-line stanza with syllabic and rhyme requirements as follows:

line 1: 5 syllables, rhyme word a
line 2: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 3: 2 syllables, rhyme word b
line 4: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 5: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 6: 2 syllables, rhymes with b
line 7: 5 syllabkes, rhymes with a
line 8: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 9: 2 syllablesm rhymes with b

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.
Photo from pixabay.com

Moon Dipping

lillian9 Comments

Soaking in a creek,
she lingered in the cool moonlight
basking in luminescent shadows.
Clothes on rocks beside her
she imagined star glitter upon her brow,
pretended the soft breeze was her lover
and succumbed to the night.

fmoon-3385760_1920

Written for Misky’s Twiglet # 89: “soaking in a creek”
A twiglet is a word or short phrase meant to motivate.

Garden’s Delight

lillian14 Comments

He waited in the garden.
Their daily early tryst,
always morning glory.

Impatiens,
burning desire
bursting his bachelor buttons.

Dainty yellow lady slippers
softened her step
coming closer, closer still.

Beautiful bosom
draped in ivy,
touched by morning dew.

Primrose to many,
but he knew better.

Those swinging rosehips,
passion flower in disguise.

woman-2124050_1920

Written for Misky’s twiglet # 88, “ivy draped.”  There are seven flowers mentioned in this poem, in addition to ivy. Can you find the all? A twiglet is a short phrase or word that is aimed to prompt.

After Many Anniversaries

lillian57 Comments

I have no need for mirrors
or overly affective words.
Aging is reality.
I need not be reminded
of it stealing time
elasticity and
dew-fresh skin.

But you, my love,
wrap me as if in gold,
caress my heart.
You hold my hand
and walk with me,
as if we are young love
now as then.

Gustav_Klimt_016

Wrapping up our dVerse 7th anniversary week, Frank asks us to write a septet. It can be a single 7-line stanza or a poem with two or more 7-line stanzas. Image is one of my favorite Gustav Klimt works, The Kiss (from Wikipedia Commons). 

Midnight Lovers

lillian31 Comments

Lips pressed to lips
hips to hips divinely so,
curtains flung wide.

Clouds pressed to moon,
beams flicker upon their bed.
Passion illuminated,
bodies melding move
like strobe light scene.

Muddled love,
pressed thru paroxysm
finally splays itself.
Breathing deeply,
hands clasped,
they sleep.

illustration-1948905_1920

It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. De is hosting and asks us to include the word “muddle” in our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). From the kitchen.com “Many warm weather cocktails us fresh ingredients such as herbs and fruit, and often muddling is reuired. To muddle means to press the ingredients agains the side of the glass. Muddling helps to release the flavors of the fresh ingredients so they bind with the alcohol.”