Transplant

lillian54 Comments

City lights blink like fireflies, regardless of season. High rise windows shine where brick meets sky in a busy horizon.

Ten thousand steps a day are easy here. Church, mosque, supermarket. Post office, synagogue and hardware store. Restaurants serve Italian, Chinese, Ethiopian, French, Japanese, Greek, seafood, pizza, tapas, ribs. Department stores, yarn shop, coffee shops, and burger joints. Museum of Fine Arts and African American Meeting House. Beauty and nail salons, barbershop, shoe repairs, dentists, doctors, optometrist and palm reader too. Freedom trail and river stroll.  I am carless in the city. Well-worn walking shoes upon my feet and a cornucopia of things to do.

Iowa girl
fifteen acres
first-picked tomato
dripping down my chin.
Transplanted to cityscape.
I still carry heartland habits,
greeting surprised strangers
as they pass me by on city streets.

Written for dVerse, the virtual poet’s pub, where Bjorn is hosting Haibun Monday and suggesting a modern take on this form — put it into a city poem and the haiku that follows the prose may or may not be about nature; may or may not follow haiku form. Pub opens at 3 PM…come visit other’s views of city life! Photos taken from our 7th floor deck in our highrise in Boston.

Rotting Fruit

lillian9 Comments

i.
They ignored the name, blood orange,
plucked it from apples in the bin
and then they were surprised.
Layer after layer peeled away
through pock marked rind
through white pith,
only to reveal a rotten core.

ii.
They chose the brightest orange one
mr. jack-o-lantern
pre-carved, with the biggest grin.
Set it out for all to see.
Surrounded with goblins,
they left it on the porch too long.

Rot and mold began to take its toll.
They watched in great dismay
as it slumped and caved
into a misshapen ugly thing,
far earlier than the target night
it was expected to shine.

bloodocean07

 

And What Shall Ye Say?

lillian24 Comments

Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.
Words from Bob Dylan’s iconic song, Blowin’ in the Wind

The airways reverberate
vitriolic hatred, spewed humiliation
despicable, visceral crudity.
Not crudité as in aperitif.
Main entré of spoils.

The wildfire is aflame
catching drafts of ignorance.
No longer can we pretend.
These are not embers
quietly waning in desert sand.

We must be the douser,
each by declaring no.
It must not be this way.
It cannot be this way.
It is not this way.

The answer is not blowin’ in the wind.
The answer is us.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Bjorn is hosting and celebrating announcement of the Nobel Prize for Literature to Bob Dylan. Whether you agree with the selection or not, there is no denying the power his words had for so many during difficult times in America’s history. It seems to me, we are in the midst of trying, frightening times again. This poem is dedicated to Bob Dylan’s genius talent, and to Michelle Obama for having the courage yesterday, to stand up and speak out. 

Birthday Celebration

lillian31 Comments

The room had a sour smell,
filled with canes, walkers
tv guides, checkerboard games,
and the people that accompany them
in a place like this.

He sat up tall, expectantly,
waiting for that age-old song
from the high-pitched warblers
hunched over the tinny piano
pulled out for occasions like this.

Balloons hovered overhead.
Candles dripped life-time moments
onto fondant flowers.
He patiently held a paper plate,
too thin for the thick slab he desired.

And so I asked the centenarian
for the secret of his longevity.
Well sonny, I always say,
close your eyes to dream.
Just make sure you open them wide
to watch where you step.

happy-birthday-1322786

Posted for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Walt asks us to write a celebratory poem or one that uses the word “celebrate.” This is actually one of my first poems, a character study, reworked for this prompt.

…and the earth prays

lillian63 Comments

Clouds slung over land
like a prayer shawl before the dawn.
They cling softly to earth’s shoulders,
until sun begins to warm her soul.
Mist slowly slips away
leaves moisture upon her limbs,
like tear drops shed in supplication
seeking grace for this day.

Monday’s quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words) for dVerse, that virtual pub for poets, where today Kim is tending bar and folks are writing about clouds. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on over and imbibe in more clouds. Photos from a past trip to Alaska.

Bermuda

lillian61 Comments

…and I shall imbibe her beauty…
shape-shifter clouds, wisps and trails…
lemon sherbet sun with melting rays…
pink sand beaches beguiled by sea glass…
aquamarine waters, clear and bright…
yellow kiskadees sing to dawn
as loquats plump for picking…
oh Bermuda, I do savor thee

Photos taken in Bermuda this past February and March. Here, the loquat are just ripening. Posted for Open Link Night at dVerse, a virtual pub for poets. Bar opens for OLN today at 3 PM — stop on over and read what others have to share!

Fanciful or Real?

lillian58 Comments

Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
 will we sing, and bless this place.
William Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night’s Dream

She fancied herself a fairy at an early age.
Each toddler step produced peels of laughter
from those who regaled in every teetering move.

She gathered smiles and tucked them away
behind sweet curly tendrils,
within folds of chubby knees,
in the sparkly depths of deep blue
behind delicate lashes with flutter dreams.

And as her steps grew wider, longer,
she skipped around the globe
passing out smiles to all she came upon,
turning darkness inside out
to light the path of many.

She was the first within a multitude,
if only we believe.

Feel their touch in sunbeams,
look within darkness and seek their starry light.
Gaze into delicate etchings of frost
upon our windows in the coldest of days,
and understand.

There are fairies and angels among us,
if only we believe.
And we can choose their ways,
light a path through darkness
and create smiles within the world.

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frost-633826_1920

Welcome to Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today I’m tending bar and asking writers to kick up their heels a bit…..give me the ole razzle dazzle! Give us some sparkle! Think of the meaning of these words and either use one, two, all or none of the words while creating a poem that evokes their mood. Stop by to read the full prompt and see what others come up with. Come enjoy some razzle dazzle with us!

Morning

lillian30 Comments

I wake up first. Our pattern for the past forty-six years. Turning my head, I see the love of my life. He sleeps, small puffs of air escaping from his lips. I smile recalling early days when he rocked our children, sang softly and soothed them into their dreams. His beard is white now. His hair more sparse than when the alarm clock jarred us into busy career filled days. I am content. I know we will soon be talking, laughing and loving, thankful for this day.

sun rises indolently
touching cloud puffs with rising blush
a new day to love

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Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse, a virtual pub for poets, where Grace asks us to write about an ordinary moment in our day, challenging us to find the “extra” in that moment.  A haibun is a paragraph of prose, written in the first person and is a true personal narrative; followed by a haiku that is complementary. Photo from Provincetown, MA.