Relationships – Page 30 – lillian the home poet

Unsettling Found Poetry – Sitting on a Book Shelf

November 27, 2015lillian6 Comments

It is a wicked time.
Pride and prejudice run amok
fueled by devices and desires.
Politicians play the confidence game,
endangered values center stage.

The dreams from my father
seem so very long ago.
Sunday drives in the family car,
unlocked doors, porches with swings.
That used to be us.

Today I watch appalled.
Certain trumpets spew vitriolic words.
In cold blood stories litter newsprint pages,
stained red in televised image
too often unseen by too many.

Let us pray for a still life
with bread crumbs for everyone,
hope we are not racing a timeline
to the end of [y]our life book club.
Amen.

books

Created from book titles found on a Chicago book shelf: Wicked by Gregory Maguire, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Devices and Desires by P.D. James, Confidence Game by Christine S. Richard, Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama, That Used To Be Us by Thomas Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum, Certain Trumpets by Garry Wills, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, Still Life With Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen, Timeline by Michael Crichton, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe.

Am I

November 18, 2015November 18, 2015lillian8 Comments

Shrinking I am, walls closing in on me
head in a vise. Eight by ten, five by
seven, four by six, wallet size. A
postage stamp stuck on some
old godforsaken envelope
thrown out. Unneeded,
Your old cameo. I’m
a person with pain.
To you, nothing.
Disappearing.
I am a void.
Am alone.
Am I a
not I
am
Ø

From Her Side

November 12, 2015November 13, 2015lillian2 Comments

Like a dust storm
swirls of grey, dark, darker still.
Whirl of words stick to skin
broken twigs, stabs of blame.
Misery clings to eye lids,
sneers and looks of disdain
seen in every moment of wakefulness.
Like sheaves of wheat broken in the gale
she droops, snaps, folds in to herself.
Years of neglect wrought this reality.
She disappears, marginalized,
haze floating on the wind.
Mouth open, silent howls, she succumbs.
Responsibility acknowledged by no one.
Acrid pain swallowed,
she chokes on life.

This World or the Next

November 8, 2015lillian12 Comments

Memories shimmer
stretched taut
like a spider’s web.
Tubes, wires,
stainless steel
monitors with beating blips.

You lay there in that present space
but somewhere far away.
Then, like a marionette
whose master dropped a string,
your eyes jolted open
and you returned to me.

No photo. Thankful for every day.

Here But Not

October 27, 2015October 27, 2015lillian7 Comments

photo credit: Geoffrey Whiteway

The macaw flew out the window
and my world became inescapably grey.
Poe’s raven without naming text
no black, no white.
Like peering closely at a newspaper,
pica type-print not visible
only paper fibers
etched in fine lines of shaded grey.
Guaranteed indelible ink
smudged by presses.
And no voices.
Only empty word bubbles
suspended from flapping mouths.
Filmed eyes watch stick figures
slink nearby in slow motion.
What happened to me that day?
The day the macaw flew out my window.

Dedicated to those who live in the throes of mental illness or depression,
invisible too long.

Her Name Was Melody

October 26, 2015lillian10 Comments

Keyboard Keys Close Up Piano Keys — Photo Credits: Suvro Khan

Her goal
to live a pentatonic life
like the piano’s black keys,
always in harmony.

Juxtaposition Tales

October 18, 2015October 18, 2015lillian2 Comments

He laughed at the brightly colored
bird mobile above his head,
crib swaying slightly
each time his chubby legs kicked
inside the pajama bag.
The premature butterfly,
monarch colors still pale
fluttered lightly, insistently,
beginning to outgrow its cocoon.

She was plump with curves,
delicious for his taste
and he wondered if she would be interested
in a bloke like him.
The tabby cat slurped milk
knowing she could use her paws later
to lick off vestigial drops.

The moon lead him down the path
until he reached the dock’s end,
a point of no return in his fogged mind.
The cricket struggled
to rub his wings together one more time,
his sweet song coming to an end
with the killing frost.

Photo Credit: Juan Sole

Diamond in the Rough

October 15, 2015October 15, 2015lillian25 Comments

          Oh
          So
         cold
        Immune
       ToLoving
      RoughTimes
     ColdShoulder
      HurtMeDeeply
       ColdHearts
        ColdLike
         IceAnd
          Dead
           To
           Me

WP Writing 201: create a CONCRETE/SHAPE poem employing the word/meaning of COLD, and employing the device of ANAPHORA (repetition of same word at the beginning of multiple lines of verse).

Elegy for Childhood

October 14, 2015lillian18 Comments

Do not grasp or fear the sifting sand
savor instead, sweet memories.

Tippee cups and imagined friends
popsicle sticky smiles.

Unabashed big bigger Balooka bubbles
popped on freckled nose.

High pitched yells with a Mary Jane stomp
knock knock jokes giggled silly.

Proscenium now disappeared, curtains askew
props and costumes gone.

Mourn not the little ones of yesteryear,
loose your hand and revel now.

Their roots are strong, let go the sieve
tis time to change the scene

WP Writing 201 prompts: the word “flavor”, enumeratio (listing), and the elegy form. Elegy: usually in couplets, first line longer; can be a longing, loss, mourning, and/or a celebration of life.

Behind the Myth

October 12, 2015October 12, 2015lillian17 Comments

The myth behind the woman loved by many,
richly layered flavors, cultivated to impress.

Miss Popularity, Miss Luther League
years later, a doctor’s wife
mother and choir member too.

Chameleon of many faces.
24 hours. 10 stories.
A runaway drama, no one really knew.

Instability lurked behind her masks
until the show of the week
forever changed her life.

Ripple effect
wider than a tidal pool.

Knife in hand, surge of passion
husband prostrate at her feet.
Murdereress. A new role.

Impromptu, adlib,
shocked by the script.

found

Prompts from WP Writing 201: faces, found poetry, chiasmus. Found Poetry: scissors and newspaper in hand, cut out words and phrases and arrange them in a poem. Words from THE WEEK, September 18, 2015 edition. Chiasmus: a reversal, an inversion (title to first line).