Relationships

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!

Metaphorically Speaking

lillian3 Comments

You should have known,
pumpkins do rot.

Center stage, porch light blazing,
oohed and aahed at by passersby.
Bright eyes lit from within.
But candle burns, continually drips.
Insides shrivel, eyes begin to droop.
Carved in grin begins to sneer.

Inevitably the brouhaha ends
crowds thin, candle burns out.
Orange flesh sags, collapses from within.
Maggots begin to appear.
You should have known,
pumpkins do rot.



Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is OLN (Open Link Night) at dVerse so we can post any one poem of our choosing. No required topic, form or length.

Time Passes: Petals Tell the Tale

lillian22 Comments

parched petals litter tabletop
tears cling to eyelashes
skeletal tree limbs crack
as blizzard careens from sky

sunrise announces joyful day
as cherry blossoms bloom
yes bedazzled by love
bouquet gifted, she smiles

seasons and emotions change
age wizens beauty
Your love,
her always

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting our Quadrille Monday and asking folks to write a poem of EXACTLY 44 words, sans title, and include the word “petals” (or a form of the word) in the body of the poem. A synonym will not suffice.

Image by Andreas Lischka from Pixabay

Devastating Tale

lillian33 Comments

Scam artist ~
preyed on teenage girls.
Sarah was smitten.
Invited to the party,
good and plenty ripe
with handsome bachelors
all waiting to score.

Twenty years her junior,
mints in his pocket
to wash away whiskey breath,
he sidled up to her.
Join me outside?
I’m not into alcohol
not into these wild parties.

She believed him.
Chatted gamely as they left.
Went to his penthouse hotel room.

Next day, found by the maid.
Strangled, disheveled, damaged.
But he was long gone.
On the kitchenette counter,
unopened Oreos package, glass of milk,
Duds and Suds business card
propped up by the toaster.

Handwritten message on the card:
I like ‘em young. Listen to their dreams.
All of ‘em wanna be sugar babies,
I just make it happen.
Catch me if you can.
Love to all,
Mr. Goodbar

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting and listing 27 candy bars/candies and asking folks to include at least one in their poem. If the candy includes the word “bar/bars”, those words can be eliminated…but the candy name must be used exactly as it is. No words can be added between the words in the name.

Apologies for the darkness of this poem….sometimes my words go to the dark side. Perhaps it’s all the Jeffrey Epstein stories in the news right now. I know this is a frightening poem, even though it uses the following candies: Good and Plenty, Junior Mints, Milk Duds, Sugar Babies and Mr. Goodbar. I do not mean to make light of the Epstein files and their relationship to #47. It is a horrible story and one that must completely be released to the public. Again, apologies but the poem just came from my pen. My first poem for this prompt is MUCH HAPPIER!

Image made on Bing Create.

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

October 14, 2013

lillian5 Comments

Six minutes a widow.
The sun kept shining,
the clock kept ticking,
but your heart stopped.
Absolutely stopped.

I remember my screams,
ambulance sirens.
They rushed you away from me.
Ushered me into a private waiting room.
I waited for forever it seemed.

Then that humming, beeping room.
Monitor glowing with moving lines.
Lines becoming peaks and troughs and blips.
Shroud-like sheeted, eyes closed.
Your face obscured by ventilator and tubes.

My God, so many tubes.
Family somehow there, tethering you to earth.
Doctor talk. Jumbled words to me.
“. . . his brain . . .may not wake up…not the same..”
No. No. NO.

Forty-eight hours later
your eyes popped open, staring fear.
Nurse told you firmly, wiggle your toes.
Move your right hand, now your left.
Moments of sheer joy.

We came home end of that week,
you, the real you, cognitively you.
But we were changed forever.
We live life more slowly,
love more deeply,
thankful for every day.


Written for dVerse , the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Will be submitted for possible publication in their anniversary anthology.

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.

Grateful . . .

lillian22 Comments

You are my sunrise
as are friends, family,
birthdays, holiday celebrations,
graduation festivities
hot fragrant coffee
smiles from passersby
crescendos in concertos
hugs and kisses
toddlers stomping in puddles
charitable donations
springtime flowers
random acts of kindness.
Sunshine, a constant,
even behind the clouds.

Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I’m tending the pub and asking folks to include the word “sunrise” in their poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

In all the chaos across our world, the sun still rises every day, even when it resides behind the darkest of clouds. For me, that is representative of hope – the idea that love and goodness are always present – even in the stormiest of times. Sunrise photo taken in Provincetown, MA – at the very tip of Cape Cod.

Lessons from the Bard

lillian9 Comments

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
There is a man among us
who struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
leading others who listen blindly.
His words, a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing that is truth.

What is past is prologue.
Poets shouldst therefore heed the Bard,
his timeless words meaningful yet today.
There have been many great men
that have flattered the people who ne’er loved them.
But how is one to label this man as great?
Perhaps in the way of Satan’s greatness
controlling some, luring others.
After all, the devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
Oh what men will dare to do!
Let no such man be trusted.

What of those who follow, whose integrity be lost?
Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
There’s small choice in rotten apples.

In these chaotic times,
what is our fate, my friends?
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny
but in ourselves.
For each of us can add to the light,
hold our candle high in windows across the land.
One will become many, and many become a multitude.
In light’s refraction, his rabid followers stagger.
They shall greet fear in their mirror.
Positions no longer secure
as multitudes greet them shouting “SHAME”.
Truthtellers stand in solidarity,
voices raised, we cannot be ignored.
THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!

The Bard penned:
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; 
And thereby hangs a tale.
Loud enough, persistent enough, we must be the solution.
Hands that right the scales of Justice.
We must take control of the tale.
Destiny be in our hands.


Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Merril hosts and asks us to consider fate. She suggests we could, for example, consider Frost’s or Shakespeare’s words on fate. I’ve chosen to refer to the Bard himself, within my poem. All of the bolded lines are quotations from Shakespeare. Let the Bard speak to you in these chaotic times!

All images except the scales of Justice are from recent demonstrations I’ve participated in. The scales of Justice image is from Pixabay.com