Relationships

Haikus Reflect the Times

lillian10 Comments

I’m singin’ the blues.
Not that raspy haunting way,
more like zydeco!

This America
understood what was at stake.
Democracy won.

Black, Hispanic, Jew,
Christian, Muslim, women, men
gay, straight, everyone.

Americans chose
truth over fear, compassion,
and voted NO KINGS!

Much more than a rout,
Trump was emasculated.
His sycophants shocked.

Poe’s words speak to Trump,
Quoth the raven, never more!
Blue skies now shine bright.


Written for OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets across the globe. Image created on Bing Create.

November 3rd was election day in the US. The Democrats outperformed everyones’ expectations. The House and Senate both flipped . . . Democrats will hold a significant majority in both. In state and local governments, across the entire United States, folks voted out Republicans (President Trump’s base) and voted in Democrats up and down the ticket: from judges to senators to attorneys general to governors . . . you name it, Americans voted in Democrats and said no to Trump’s administration and policies. The “blue wave” we hoped for became a blue tsunami. From Texas to Georgia, to Michigan, Ohio, and Maine; across the entire country….it is a monumental shift. One, I believe, the world celebrates.

October 31st, 2026

lillian2 Comments

Mesmerized by autumn’s colors,
jack-o-lantern creations
children donning costumes
door-to-door gathering of treats.
Humans blithely celebrate Halloween.

Oblivious are they, as the night progresses.
Asleep in beds, candy inventoried,
sweet tooths sated, witches’ hats discarded,
costumes strewn on floor.
Adults and childrent in exhausted sleep.

Clocks toll midnight, that preternatural hour.
The signal on this one night, the dead await each year.
Occurrences beyond the pale, are about to begin.
Bats circle screeching as darkest of clouds shroud the sky.
Streets, empty of humans, fill with the unspeakable.

Skeletons escape graves, clamber boldly through town.
Disembodied spirits float overhead.
Mummified creatures, once embodied souls,
perch on porches, curbs, moaning in groans.
All things once dead, make their appearance.

One hour each year. This is all they’re given.
To move. To feel the wind. To awaken and live again.
Regrets may arise
as some have wishes of what they could have done.
Others content, just breathe before they enter deep sleep again.

This is the twilight time, unbeknownst to many.
This time between All Hallows Eve and All Hallows Day.
The time of the living dead.


Poem inspired by our walk through Boston’s Beacon Hill late yesterday afternoon, looking at all the Halloween decorations folks put out. Image created on Bing Create. Happy Halloween everyone!

On Halloween Night

lillian15 Comments

Goblins on mischief rampage.
Forest-sprite Sylvie awakens
atop her mushroom cap.
Too visible!
Wings pulse message,
screen needed now.

Sylvie escapes beneath fiddle ferns
as fireflies answer by the thousand,
hypnotizing malevolent ones.
Full moon reveals staring Snowy Owl.
His countenance
frightens goblins away.

Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Lisa asks us to include the word “screen” in our poem of exactly 44 words sans title. Image created on Bing.

The Cadralar: Poetic Form for the Times

lillian19 Comments

1.
Red yarn raucously stretched,
tangled up and down stairs.
Cat spent
chin rests on ball’s remainder,
tail and right paw ensnared.

2.
Snow melts under warming sun.
Water rushes over boulders
carves trail in mountainside.
Carries, tosses rocks and branches
gurgles loudly in rapids below.

3.
Tuk tuks, bicycles, tarp covered trucks, cars.
All jockey in and out as drivers gesticulate.
Heat blazes, smog suffocates.
Traffic lights. Detour signs. No matter.
Throng pushes ever on.

4.
Hurdles placed, runners crouched
starter gun sounds.
Numbered bibs blurr.
Some clear barriers, never look back.
Others fall, lay defeated. Eating dry dust.

5.
Blue tsunami gathering steam.
November third in sight.
Maneuvering through noise
through blustering lies
the race to empathy, truth, democracy.

Written for Meet The Bar at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Laura asks us to write a CADRALAR, a unique poetic form explained below.

Cadralar:
Poem of five numbered stanzas.
Each stanza an imagist poem that can stand alone: a photograph if you will, but seemingly unrelated to the other stanzas, until you read the 5th and final stanza.
Stanzas’ lines should be similar in length.
Final 5th stanza, reveals the thread between the first four stanzas and answers the question, “What do you yearn for?”

Hint: I often find it helpful to go back and read the first four stanzas, after reading the final one!

FYI for those readers not from the US: November 3rd is election day in the US. It is not a presidential election year – that doesn’t come until 2028. But, we do vote for a large number of US congress folks (House of Representatives and the Senate), as well as important state offices including governors and members of state legislatures. If we “flip” Senate and House seats to the Democratic party, it will strip Donald Trump of much of his power and there could even be another impeachment, albeit a successful one in terms of removing him from office. All of these are possibilities. Many in the US, like across the globe, are tired and furious with what the Trump administration has done to the US and its ripple effect on the globe as well. Stay tuned for results on November 3rd.

*Red is the color of the Republican party: the group of sycophants following President Trump’s MAGA agenda.

*Blue is the color of the Democratic party.

The Would-Be Poet

lillian16 Comments

Trumpet wails
smoke curls in jazz club
ice clinks in whiskey glasses.
Eyes glued to stage
they sit, imagining,
caught in her spell.

Red moist lips
sing in raspy sex-tinged voice
I put a spell on you.
Hips gyrate slowly
arms stretch above her head
hands writhe seductively.

He sits, shoulders slumped.
Food spattered lapels
ink stained fingertips.
The poet, as he’s known,
soaks in the atmosphere
with nowhere to go.

His mind travels
with her every word.
Imagines himself
inside her throat,
inside her eyes,
inside her soul.

Why can’t his words
do to his readers
what her voice
her words
her body
do to him?


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Sanaa hosts Tuesday Poetics with a prompt titled Thirteen Songs, Thirteen Hauntings.

She gives us a list of thirteen songs and asks us to be inspired by one of them. We’re to let the music determine the mood, imagery, setting, and voice of the poem. I’ve selected I Put a Spell on You, by Nina Simone. The music and video definitely inspired my poem. Click on the video above, watch and listen for a bit and you’ll understand why.

Azul’s World

lillian17 Comments

I’d like to see the world
through Azul’s eyes.

Where trees are lush green
vibrant with life.

Where every face is smiling,
grinning happily.
Side-by-side neighbors
whether across the globe,
the continent, the island,
the city or neighborhood.
Where there are no others.
Only a world of us and we.

Where all children are kissed by mothers
beneath trees melodious with caroling birds
hidden among their leaves.
Where the rising moon thrives
shining hope and beaming light,
even as the setting sun
paints the sky in waves
of yellow and crimson orange.

May we all see our world
through the eyes of Azul.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting and am delighted to post four pieces of artwork created by Azul, an 8-year old boy from the Philippines. I’ve never met Azul, only his wonderful father. I’ve posted four of Azul’s drawings/paintings and asked folks to create a poem inspired by one or more of them. I think he’s a budding artist! In case you’re interested, here’s the fourth piece of Azul’s art that I did not include in my poem. It too is beautiful.

A Short Political Ditty for the Times

lillian17 Comments

Hum-diddly-dee
hum-diddly-dum.
Sing out with glee,
beat that drum!

Add words to your tune,
“sycophants be gone”!
Revile the buffoon,
use your brassiest song.

Come November third
rise up, Land of the Brave.
Drown this theater of the absurd
in a tsunami blue wave!



Written for dVerse, the online pub for poets around the globe. Today, De asks us to write a quadrille including the word “hum” or a form of the word.

Quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, that includes a particular word provided in the prompt.

Living in the Wrong Time

lillian15 Comments

She seeks answers in the landscape,
this early nineteenth century woman.

Firmly corseted, demure by training,
constrained by society’s expectations.
She pauses deliberately on crude dirt path,
having followed it through rolling hills
amidst surrounding trees.

Would that she could stretch her limbs,
bloom anew, sway in every fresh breeze.
Remain firmly rooted defying threatening storms.
But she is here. Painted in her times.
Resolutely she turns, walks off canvas,
slowly returns home.

How much joy she would have
if in this moment she could know,
her female counterparts
will change the world.


Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual home for poets around the world. Today Melissa asks us to consider the artist Henri Rousseau and provides us with several of his works to motivate our poetry. I’ve chosen his painting, La Promenade dans la Foret (The Walk in the Forest) c 1886.

For Jaye

lillian3 Comments

Adirondack lady
blankets at the ready
cool evenings to come.

She sits surrounded by woods
lulled by the sound of loons,
listening, smiling with Joe.

Memories seem to visit her lately.
Their early parenting days
punctuated by laughter and love.

She waits now, expectantly,
their child’s mothering days
soon to begin.

Time passes by, disappears,
inexorably moving forward.
Generations born and tendered.

One certainty
in these unpredictable times,
this new little one
will be born into a world of love.