Relationships

People . . .

lillian34 Comments

Some exhale fresh air
with every breath.
Others spew pollution
from every pore.

Some sow smiles
like Johnny planted trees.
Others hurl thunderbolts
of anger and fear.

Some believe in we
live in the our.
Others tout two,
us versus them.

Some stand tall
no matter their stature.
Others think small
no matter their height.

Some people hope
as they pray for the others.
Willing the others
compassion for all.

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Shared with dVerse OLN today….the virtual pub for poets. Everyone is invited to share one poem of their choosing. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join the fun! Photo in public domain.

One Night

lillian44 Comments

My eyes cannot see my face
and yet, in this room
this darkened place,

I see me in your love
your soft whisper breath
your fingertips across my skin.

You are my looking glass
image me into our dreams
light my heart, my soul,

light stars within my eyes
explode my senses,
nova me this night.

And then, as passions fade,
we shall sleep entwined
until the morrow’s dawn.

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I’m hosting Poetics at dVerse today – that wonderful virtual pub for poets. I’m asking folks to write a poem that includes a unique verbification – a noun or adjective used as a verb.  Think Google — originally a proper noun, the name of a company. People started to say “google that” and through repetition, it became a verb. How about “ganache me” — wouldn’t that be delectable?  My post, One Night, verbifies nova – a star that suddenly flares and then fades slowly. Come join us at dVerse to read and enjoy; and maybe, also, to post your own verbification! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo: in public domain.

Each night . . .

lillian38 Comments

slipping from here to there,
drifting toward sleep
my hand reaches for yours.

Fearful still,
I will not let you cross alone
this darkening nocturnal bridge.

Fingers interweave. I wait. I listen.
Soft even breaths become my evensong
and I succumb to dreams.

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Hosting the dVerse virtual pub for poets today. I’m asking folks to write a poem that contains the word “bridge.”  So many possibilities!  Come join us – bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.

What’s your history?

lillian34 Comments

Adam and Eve’s tale
created a history.
Two genders. Two roles.
From prehistoric eras
came seminal works,
histrionic characters
assigned to mankind.
Hissy fits to machismo.
Words whimpered wrongly,
like hysterical mis-spelled.
Time now to accept
the herculean tough task.
Too often not heard
unless we are herd, enmasse.
Cherish who we are.
Do not say female or male,
women versus men.
We shall march a million strong,
support each other.
Our bodies, our minds, our love.
Together we can, we will.

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Gayle hosts dVerse today and asks us to write a CHOKA: an unrhymed poem with lines that alternate 5 and 7 syllables, ending with two 7 syllable lines. A new form for me…and quite a challenge to make the sense of the poem be the reader’s main focus rather than the framework of the 5-7-5-7-5-etc-7-7 syllable requirement. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
Two explanatory notes for the poem: 1) I’ve always been interested in semantics and the power of language; applauding the movement to more inclusive language as in “fire fighter” rather than “fireman” and “work hours” rather than “man hours.” Many changes like these have concretized in our language over the years and, I believe, affected perception. This poem looks at the place of gender specific words within words. Note the italics. There are many many more one could use. I find it an interesting exercise. 2) Jan 21, 2016 is the Women’s March on Washington with simultaneous similar events around the country. My daughter and I shall attend the one in Boston. Hence the reference at the end of the poem. I should add ,persons of both gender/sex are highly encouraged to attend these events!

Will you . . .

lillian66 Comments

curl me softly?
Straight lines do not appeal,
nor pointillist detail.

Giverny blur me
in weeping willow,
mauve wisteria and lupine tendrils.

Soften words with lyrical strokes
lightly touch my lips,
whisper quietly in fading sun.

Hold me,
spoon me
in waning silvered moon.

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Welcome back to dVerse! Bjorn opens 2017 with the quadrille prompt to use the word “curl.”  dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM…come join us…curl up with a cup of coffee or a mimosa, share your take on the word and or read what others have to share in only 44 words (definition of a quadrille)!

Yuletide Carol, 2016

lillian49 Comments

In the quiet spaces
my heart awaits a miracle.

A family with no home
carrying a gift within,
sought shelter on the darkest of nights.
Turned away,
their solace lay with stable mates
and a symbol of Love was born.

As the world seethes
a baby in Aleppo writhes with pain,
feels not the love promised to many.
Angels hover,
ethereal wings tattered and torn.
Their yuletide song has but six words.

How has it come to this?

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Created for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.  dVerse will take a holiday hiatus, but I shall keep posting here.  Heads up! Tomorrow’s post is about our recent trip to Australia and includes some amazing photos of a mama wallaby and her joey!

Special thanks to Bjorn, Gail and all my fellow pub tenders. And a very special thanks to all dVerse participants for making 2016 a great year! 

she waits . . .

lillian46 Comments

elusive time
slips through fingers
like threads of gossamer silk

elusive time
disappears like dew drops
as sun steeps blades of grass

elusive
as sheaves of journal pages
covered in faded ink,
tear drop stains
softened by the years

journal pages
fingered tentatively
as she sits, mind wandering,
wizened body ensconced
in pale grey prayer shawl

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I’m hosting the bar at dVerse today, a virtual pub for poets, and asking folks to write a poem with the word “time” in it; or a poem about a particular time etched in their memory. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and imbibe some poetic words or take up the prompt yourself. We’d love to have you! Photo credit: Kristen Hultzapple.

Original Sin

lillian54 Comments

Proud anthems hide painful histories.
Call them Scar Face, the original mobs.

Maori treaties disemboweled.
Aborigine beliefs purged, land seized,
lives stolen by small pox scourge.
Wounded Knee cut beyond the pale.

Revisionist history.
Frayed band-aids cover festering wounds.
Moans for restitution reverberate.

A Quadrille (poem of 44 words) using the word “scar” for dVerse where De is tending bar at this virtual pub for poets today. Photos are from our recent trip to Australia and New Zealand. In New Zealand, Europeans came to settle and discovered the Maori people — they were of Polynesian descent. Treaties were signed that ultimately displaced the Maori. However, in recent years New Zealand has done much to rectify the situation including a formal apology, declaring English and Maori as the two official languages of NZ, giving back some key lands, having both languages taught in the first years of school. There are Maori television stations. The video is of a beautiful Maori dance on the land, given back to the Maori’s, where the original treaties were signed. A beautiful museum just opened there this year.

Second set of pictures are from an Aboriginal tour we took of the Botanical Gardens in Sydney. This man is Aboriginal (mixed marriage) and showed us many of the plants and trees used by the Aboriginee for food and shelter, and explained their difficult history. Because Aboriginees no longer have easy access to their natural foods of years ago, they now eat “normal” food and their bodies have never adjusted…the average age of an Aboriginal male is just 65. Kidney disease and diabetes are rampant in the population. The artwork is some from the garden and one bark drawing from a beautiful display at the New South Wales Art Gallery. The Aboriginees have not fared as well as the Maori in New Zealand.

And of course, the wonded knee reference is to the Massacre at Wounded Knee in 1890 when US federal troops killed 150+ native American Indians. In the U.S., the plight of the American Indian, on reservations, high alcoholism, education access etc.  In all three countries, we sing our national anthems proudly, but our countries are established on the “original sin” of taking the land away from those who were our countrie’s first inhabitants. It is a fact of our histories. This recent trip gave me much food for thought concerning history and indigenous peoples.

Quadrille Times Three

lillian65 Comments

she-devil                                                     lived recklessly
among subhuman rats                           star on knees, alley squatter
throwing die, rolling kraps                   spark of luck in fingertips
collecting just desserts                          stressed, on edge
come on baby, deliver                             reviled by all who play her game

debutante of junkies, she’s lost it all.

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Read three ways, always using the “debutante” line as the final line: 1. poem on left; 2. poem on right; 3. from left to right, all the way across as one poem.  Also uses semordnilap: one word, when spelled backwards makes a different word:  devil is lived; rats is star; kraps is spark; desserts is stressed; and deliver is reviled. Any way you read it, it is a Quadrille (44 words – no more, no less) that includes the word “spark” as asked for in today’s prompt at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. De is opening the pub at 3 pm – come on over and write with us — or just imbibe the words of others!
Photo Credit: Michal Zacharzewski