Relationships

Living in a Run-On Sentenced World

lillian5 Comments

how did we get to this place
where journalists are called piggy and stupid
and the one before is called sleepy joe while the one now
who was also before the one before
nods off in televised meetings but wakes up
demanding cabinet members sling odes of praise
while hiding their genuflecting knees below the conference table
refusing to speak against indulgences given to insurrectionists
as others under his spell fund masked men
not Zorro types
accosting individuals who by the way are not eating your pets
rather paying taxes to raise their children who are US citizens
being good neighbors attending church
working jobs that need bodies who show up and care

we need Martin and Jesse
John Lewis and Barbara Jordon
to be here again
we need their spirited tenacity to rile up cowardly sycophants
to grow backbones and finally say enough is enough

meanwhile he’s playing feral tom cat lifting his leg all over DC
leaving his mark so future felines and species of any kind
will know he was here in his gilded age of narcissism
adding his name atop JFKs and on towers and arch de trumps
even as he paints the Reflecting Pond blue
in the image of Mar-a-Lago’s swimming pool
which as he explained with posters as visual aids
is taller than any of the tallest buildings in the world
never mind it’s a pool of water lying prone on the ground
not a building actually standing tall reaching to the sky

he’s become an AI Master in the wee hours
evidenced by his creations
something no other president has or ever will be
see Donald the pilot dropping shit bombs everywhere
while JD warns Leo to be careful talking about theology
his boss created himself in the image of Christ
and it goes on and on and on like a run-on sentence
with no stops no resets no commas
just implicitly felt exclamation marks slung everywhere
until we the people add our own exclamation mark
and say NO in November

let the reckoning come


Written for Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Melissa asks us to write a poem with no punctuation.
Image by Vilius Kukanauskas from Pixabay

Life’s mates . . .

lillian14 Comments

. . . some arranged
some from love at first sight.
Some wooed over coffee dates, dances,
walks in the woods, saunters through town.
Some too good to be true
and they were.

In his imagination, he pictured her
a match for his gentle soul.
Someone to color his world,
hues of happiness and hope.
Ruby red lips, dark indigo eyes,
cheerful lemon-yellow everyday dresses.

She appeared in his dreams occasionally.
Magenta velvet dress swaying,
complement to his black velvet tux.
They danced together, high in the night sky,
galaxy spinning, sparkling its approval.
Their’s was a match made in heaven.

Sadly, night’s chill always ended this folly,
waking him as he reached up,
up into the nothingness of stark reality.
His hand empty, heart aching.
Would he ever find her?
Or is his dream, simply out of reach?
Too good to be true.



Written for Tuesdayd Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Melissa is hosting. She’s given us images of 4 Marc Chagall paintings and asked to write an ekphrastic poem using one of them. I’ve selected The Promenade, oil on canvas painted in 1918.

An EKPHRASTIC poem is a poem inspired by an image.



Fences

lillian19 Comments

How do people learn to parent?
Do we learn it as we go?
Is it a task with diminishing returns?

We erect loving fences round our infants.
Envelop them in our arms,
nurture them at the breast,
cocoon them in swaddled sleep.
At varying degrees we watch, hover,
interfere or cheer, as they crawl, toddle,
run, stumble, fall and get back up again.
Fences open as we send them to school.
Teachers flick reins with encouragement
to lope, gallop, join the race, keep up the pace.
Soon fences disappear completely.
Children gone more than they’re at home.
Is parenting a conundrum?  
Love and attachment grow stronger every day
even as we encourage independence,
even as their days with us are numbered.
Suddenly they’re adults raising their own
as we look on from another place.
We hope the path they walked with us
was well tread, remembered fondly.
We relish our memories
as we wait for their muscle memory
and that thing called familial love
to occasionally nudge them
back into our sphere again.


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Punam reminds us that in India, May is a month where there will be art exhibits across many cities. She provides us with several artworks that can motivate an ekphrastic poem, or we can be inspired by one of the following names of some of these art shows:
1. Nothing Twice
2. Chance Remains of Another Time
3. Open Fences

Photo is us with our granddaughter who is now 18! How time flies!

Poet’s Parisian Interlude

lillian38 Comments

Sipping bordeaux, afternoon delight.
She, the queen of hearts, oblivious.
He, her soul’s sustenance, sits restless
in the tangles of foment.
His love, her peace and windrush.
His lust, her quicksilver.

Poetry is a testament to noticing.
Journal upon the table, pen hesitates,
writing stammers, then suddenly stops.
Eyes look up, gaze high.
Sentinel Eiffel Tower looms
overlooking this changing scene.

Her hands shake, tears form.
Looking at him, she knows.
This seasonal song has no coda,
final movement complete.
He nods slowly, touches her hand,
whispers I’m sorry and leaves.
For her, the summer is done.

Written for Tuesay Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Merril gives us a list of names given to roses and asks us to write a poem including at least five of the names. We cannot use the word “rose” wtihin our poem. The rose names are Afternoon Delight, Bordeaux, Brass Band, Cayenne, Desdemona, Ebb Tide, Eiffel Tower, Golden Gate, Mermaid, No Surrender, Peace, Penny Lane, Queen of Hearts, Quick Silver, Restless, Sea Foam, Summer Song, Tangles, White Wings, and Windrush. I’ve included the ten that are in bold print.

Image AI generated on Bing Create.

“Poetry is a testament to noticing” quoted from Poetry Unbound, 50 Poems to Open Your World, by Padraig O Tuama, Irish poet and theologian.

Garden’s Dilemma

lillianLeave a comment

In his dodder of thyme,
the current head DC gardener
continues to uproot and rip out
Justicia, Honesty, and roses of all kind.
As if they were the weeds.
In their place he sows and propagates
Crown Imperial, Wormswood, Snakesfoot,
King-cups and Creeping Cereus.

This prickly pear of a man
is in no way a humble plant.
More like a mouse-eared-chickweed
forever noshing on Fool’s Parsley,
basking under the shade
of his pruned Judas Trees.

Outside his sphere, weeping willows
flail in dire need of gentle balm.
They must find a new sage, soon.
Both Burpee and the
Farmer’s Almanac warn
the upcoming planting season
will be a crucial one.

NAPOWRIMO Day 19. Today’s prompt: Using Kate Greenaway’s Language of Flowers, write a poem in which you muse on your selections of flowers names and meanings from her extensive list.

*** All of the flowers and plants I’ve used from her book, are italicized in the poem. I’ve kept the capitalization only on those that are actually used in the poem as the plant/flower itself. Reference is paid to the Old Farmer’s Almanac and the Burpee Seed Catalogue.

IMAGE of the Jacqueline Kennedy Rose Garden at the White House, courtesy of the National Park Service website.

Damsel of the Night

lillian1 Comment

Into the night she fled
nerves awry, feelings dead.
Tricked by his deceitful lies
no one had listened to her cries.

Castle and dreams now miles away
heart faltering, heavy as clay.
Past the forest deep and dank
she came upon a riverbank.

Exhausted, she gave in to pain
collapsed as thunder struck with rain.
Hands to breast, as breath grew short,
she smiled as Death offered his support.


NAPOWRIMO Day 18. Prompt: Today we don’t challenge you to write all of a long, dramatic, narrative poem, but we invite you to try your hand at writing a poem that could be a section or piece of one. Include rhyme, include unlikely and dramatic scenes…basically a poem with the plot of an opera!

AI image generated on Bing Create.

Where Does Love Go?

lillian12 Comments

Family of four,
both mother, father gone now.
Their love still lives on
in the way their children love.
Circle of love unending.


A Tanka written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Kim asks us to write a poem using the title Where Does Love Go and answer the question within the poem.

Go to https://lillianthehomepoet.com/2026/03/24/a-haibun-family-tradition/ to understand my personal meaning for the Circle of Love. Image from Pixabay.com

Tanka: a Japanese poetic form of 5 lines with the syllabic count of 5-7-5-7-7 Some say it’s a haiku that keeps on going!

Street Art in Chile

lillian21 Comments

I believe this is us forever dear,
painted image on a neighbor’s wall.
We hold hands in permanence,
street artist’s portrait of love.
His rendition, always young.
No furrowed brows from worries,
no age spots upon our arms.
He sees us somewhat oddly though,
large heads upon small bodies.
But we do lean in, faces touching,
projecting forever togetherness.
Feet dangle above his painted ground,
hovering above reality’s sidewalk.
He’s placed us in suspension here. . .
and I can imagine, my love,
this was us so many years ago.
How did he know?



Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I’m hosting today, and folks are invited to post one poem of their choosing, no required format, topic, or length. OR they may post to the optional prompt I provide which includes three photos of street art I saw in Valparaiso, Chile some years ago. The one above was one of my favorites.

AN INVITATION TO YOU: I’m also hosting our LIVE session (audio and video) on Saturday, April 11, from 10 to 11 AM EST. Please consider joining us! You may read aloud a poem of your choosing, or just come to sit in and listen! We are indeed a global group with folks from Australia, Trinidad Tobago, Kenya, the UK, Pakistan, Sweden, and across the US often in attendance. The more the merrier! If you’d like to join us, go to https://dversepoets.com on Saturday a few minutes before 10 AM EST, and click on the link provided there.