Relationships

Love Despoiled

lillian46 Comments

Oh, Henry! You’ve caught me
be-twix and be-tween.
Passion whet by champagne,
and Kit Kat Club ambience.
Desire kindled by kindness.
Your patience to consummate
pledge your troth, to wed
and only then to bed.

Until my evening gown mishap.
Bared breast revealed,
milky way to pale mounds
meant to share in nuptial bliss.
When moonlight shafts
soften look of aging skin,
light passion’s fire,
scorch through satin linens.

But shocked I am.
Your snickers, chuckles,
leering eyes, pupils wide.
Your lust apparent, unleashed.
Tongue swiftly swipes your lips
sweat beads drip down furrowed brow.
You, most definitely,
are not my Mr. Good Bar.

Fifth Avenue class and demeanor
slipped away as if a mask.
I see you now, the real you.
As far out of possibilities
as aliens from planet Mars.
Bar or not, I sand beside this stool,
proud woman, intelligent,
genteel and steeled.

Beware sir, I am not
a pay day or pay by night
loose female, giving on demand.
I am not that kind.
I thought you were different.
And so I leave you sir,
clutching cloth to breast
virture intact.

Self respect intact,
yesterday, today,
and through many morrows.
Until some partner shall appear,
unconditional love apparent.
And we shall reveal to one another
our feelings, wishes, and regrets.
Our every view into our very souls.

2011_05_11_11_23_14

I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, and we’re brand name noodling! I’ve given folks three categories: candy bars, cereals, and perfumes. I’ve listed at least sixteen products in each category. Folks are to choose ONE category, and write a poem that includes at least TWO of the product names within that category. . . using them as just words in the poem. 

I’ve chosen to used the candy bar list: Oh, Henry!, Chuckles, Kit-Kat, Snickers, Milky Way, Mr. Goodbar, Mars Bar, 5th Avenue, Pay Day, Mounds, Twix, Charleston Chew, Butterfinger, Baby Ruth, Krackle, and 3 Muskateers. I used the first 11 in this poem.

AND HERE’s MY POST ON THE CEREAL LIST!

Tempest

lillian40 Comments

In anger walked I by the roiling sea
the taste of salt, like she, embittered me.
Rough waves didst crash against volcanic rock
and spewed their shards of foam, thus dousing me.

Her words of yesterday, I thought were talk
and thus I waited by her door to stalk.
Bereft was I, like sharpened rocks so bruised,
the knife now purged of blood and hurled to sea in shock.

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Written for dVerse, where today, Frank hosts, asking us to write a rubaiyat: a poem consisting of quatrains (stanzas of four lines) and, if using more than one stanza, employs a “nesting” rhyme pattern: AABA, BBCB — and each line is written in iambic pentameter.  It’s a poetry sudoku!  Also posted for Napowrimo, day 26 where the challenge is to write, appealing to the senses. Hopefully, without lookin at the photos, you can see, hear, taste and feel this poem! Photos are from our recent trip to Bermuda.

What moment lies between?

lillian25 Comments

To cruise the seas. Ship of many with restaurants, shops, shows, casino and dancing. Playing on the waves. Yet for me, it is the moments of silence I savor. Sunset on our veranda. Leaning into the salty breeze.  Pondering as body sways naturally. What lies between that place where red melds into black? Between moments in time? Between a last intake of breath and the final audible sigh? Clouds hover like memories floating through my mind. Mixed emotions. Content to stand and savor. Slow ache for loved ones faded from my life. Red streaks lessen, darkness consumes. I shiver in the suddenly cold air.

black cold red-streaked sky
Ursus lumbers to dark den
winter signals sleep

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Haibun prompt today at dVerse: think about CHIJITSU, a Japanese Kaigo that means lingering day….can relate to the moments of sunrise or sunset. Haibun: prose (must be true) followed by a haiku that must, in the true Japanese sense of the form,  include reference to a season.  Post also applies to day 16 Napowrimo’s prompt: something to do with play. Photo taken from the deck on our last cruise around South America.

Sadly we say goodbye to Victoria our dVerse host today. She’s been a force at dVerse since its early days in 2011. Thank you, thank you, Victoria.

Nursery Rhyme Primed

lillian6 Comments

Tawny Donny wealthy and sly,
kissed the girls and made them cry.
When they told the world their tales
tawny Donny lost his veils.

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Day 15, Napowrimo : using Hansel and Gretel and Blackbeard the Pirate as examples, today’s prompt asks us to rewrite a villain’s unfortunate situation. Today, Georgie Porgie’s friend gets caught in a kettle of fish. ILLUSTRATION from Volume One, Poems of Eary Childhood, Child-Craft, published by The Quarrie Corporation, Chicago, in 1947.

 

Ars Poetica: through a forest’s eye

lillian26 Comments

Forest walkabout.
Slowly saunter, savor pine scent
see sun-lattice pattern through breeze blown leaves,
feel rock-strewn ground beneath your feet.
Find toadstool mushrooms
nestled in myriad shades of green.
Hear birds cackle, warble,
cry monosyllabic shrieks.
Or just get through.
Enter to exit the other side.
Rush from point A to B or G.
Been there but never saw.

Word forest, thy name is Poetry.
Slowly saunter through words
letters arranged, thought path on a page.
Smell rain. Picture grey clouds shifting,
sun blocked above the trees.
Hear rhythmic patterns,
singing sounds, harsh plosives,
hissing sibilants, warbling vowels.
Or just get through.
Enter to exit the other side.
Scan from point A to B or G.
Read that but never saw.

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Written for dVerse where Paul asks us to consider Ars Poetica: a term meaning “the art of poetry. ” An Ars Poetica poem expresses the poet’s aims for poetry and/or the poet’s theories about poetry. Also used for Day 12 Napowrimo. Photo taken in Ireland last year.

Allegory

lillian2 Comments

Standing midst the city bustle
carousel with children chortling
dark-suited briefcase clutchers
people-ears attached to cells
city buses garbed in gaudy ads
taxis weaving, hotly honking
rushing quick-stepping humanity
standing midst the city bustle.

Standing midst the city bustle
lone curbside flower bed
stems bedraggled, drooping heads
once gaily bright and newly sprouted
dulled by daily apathy
straw-color shrivel, stripped to shreds
barely living, shadowed existence
dying midst the city hustle.

NaPoWriMo Day 4. Prompt is to realize the importance of description in poetry. It’s all in the details, hence, no photo today
April: National Poetry Writing Month, a poem a day til the month of May.

Not Her

lillian2 Comments

Inherited from her,
the quick-to-explode gene.
Eyes down, fists clenched,
we stood silently passive
until the flame was spent.

Her sudden verbal lashings,
see-what-you-made-me-dos,
fury flung horiffic words.
Perhaps, in those moments,
I learned to control anger.

But she can fester within me.
Like termites gnawing
eroding the core of sanity.
Pause. Breathe.
Seek a good. A beautiful.

Take up pen and feel the script.
The flow. The ebbing.
I am not her.
Not that way.
I will it to be so.

s/he

lillian23 Comments

dear totto,
georgia on my mind.

androgynous. severe. erotic.
enigma of your times.
independent by design,
plainspoken in style.

red canna. female genitalia?
we think, you denied.

energized by the big apple,
southwest weathered and drawn.
artist who became,
photographers’ canvas.

middle name unknown to most.
artistry praised by many,
alive beyond your death.
i remain,

an admirer

 

 

 

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today, Bjorn asks us to write a letter poem. S/he is inspired by my visit yesterday to the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, MA to see a Georgeia O’Keefe exhibit. Photos above all appeared in the exhibit, in addition, to one erotic nude photo of her (taken by Stieglitz), behind a very sheer curtain. Her middle name was Totto. These are all photos of her. You may be familiar with her abstract depictions of brightly painted flowers and leaves. Feminists believed her red canna flower series were abstract representations of famale genitalia, which she adamantly denied. She is also famous for her landscapes of the Southwest. Post written in all lower case, to exemplify her simplistic clothing choices and style. 

She moved to New York City and married Stieglitz, a famous photographer who would take over 300 photos of her. Midway through their marriage, she began to travel between New York City and New Mexico. When Stieglitz died in 1946, she moved soon thereafter, permanently, to New Mexico. She was also good friends with the famous American photographer, Ansell Adams. I would love some day, to visit the Georgia O’Keefe museum there. 

The Cat and the Elephant

lillian30 Comments

Tis not the end of the world, my friend.
Nine lives I have
and don’t you see?
I’ve really only been through three.

Tsk, tsk, so you say.
These tusks did push us off the land
but sails they’re not,
without the wind.

Then I shall cat-call to the moon,
plead to lunar-up a breeze.
But you so heavy at the knees,
we’ll still be deadweight in the seas.

Your kitty croons, so pitiful and small,
my BAALOOs shall loudly do the trick.
I’ll proudly call up mighty Orca
and she will surely solve our plight.

—–

Suddenly their boat was perched
atop a dorsal fin
as waves did froth and start to spin,
and winds did help them soar. . .

beyond the land of different,
one so big and one so wee.
She looked up and he looked out
to navigate the troubled seas.

————

Readers heed this little tale
as you doth scan my words.
An elephant and a cat at sea,
sealed their fate successfully.

He did this and she did that
with moon and stars
and wind and whales.
Absolutely no buts allowed.

And thus they sailed,
the elephant and the cat,
into a new and verdant land ~
designed to house the everyone and all.

Silent-Night-Catrin-Welz-Stein-Acrylic-Glass-Print

This is my second post for dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, where I’m hosting and asking folks to choose one of four images from talented artist Catrin Welz-Stein.

The first post, with another image, is Primitive Folk Tale.

Some fabulous poems have been posted using Catrin’s images. Thank you again, Catrin, for letting us be inspired by your artwork!

Primitive Folk Tale

lillian65 Comments

She, the earliest of living things.
Her strength, serenity.
Eternal for the ages.

Birthed ‘neath a solar scrim
stars and silver moons afloat,
heavenly aura ’round her soul.

In her hand she held thee, wren.
Firstborn feathered creature
created from wisps of love.

Genesis of multiples
winged in soaring flight,
traversing through her skies.

Red blossoms, thorned and not,
suckled from her bosom soft
kindness sipped by every bloom.

Life seeded within her mind
begat entangled branches,
generations of humankind.

Earthly homes imagined
crowned forth upon her head
’til eyelids softly closed,

whispered words escaped her lips.
‘Tis done.
Now they must live.

Catrin Welz-Stein - German Surrealist Graphic Designer - Tutt'Art@ (24)

I’m hosting dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, asking folks to chose one of four images that I’ve provided, from talented artist Catrin Welz-Stein.  

I also published The Cat and the Elephant, using another of her images.

I love the serenity of this image. If you click on her name, you’ll get to her website which includes much more of her artwork. Thank you, Catrin, for letting us use your beautiful images for motivation today! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and be inspired!