Dancer Down

lillian5 Comments

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There it was. Audition.
Wanted: 100 dancers
for three months prep
to perform in Boston’s Copley Square.
No experience required.

I did the same thing,
twenty years ago
in Iowa.
Auditioned.
And was selected to perform.
Ninety-nine hoofer-wanna-bees
plus Gene Kelly and me.
Thousands watched us
in the Big-Ten half-time show
or took a trip for hotdogs
and the john.

So I did it. Again.
And made it.
Again.
Ninety-nine plus me
two nights every week.
Loud fast rehearsals
with slow
every day repeats
at home
to video
online.
I should have known.
I was twenty years older
not newer
and certainly not digital.

One month to go.
On our burgundy shag carpet
five-six-seven-eight
and again
right-turn-slide-spin.
Repeat at studio
on unforgiving wooden floor.
Five-six-seven-eight……
Crap.……dancer down.

Legs sag. Muscles be damned.
Relegated to RICE.
Rest-Ice-Compression-and-
– – oh hell. I forget
what the E stands for.

Originally posted on March 23, as Self-Portrait: Dancer Down, just my third post ever….revisited and revised. No Likes then, no comments, two followers (my family members)! 

Alaska: First Glance

lillian17 Comments

photo-2

She wears mist like a silk scarf
draped round her foothills,
wisps of white cloud
wrap round her girth,
this Alaskan mountain.

Her legion of honor stand nearby
black spruce, short in stature
strong willed in spirit,
cling to permafrost tundra,
their tenacity and her beauty
reflected in cold still waters.

photo 2      photo 3  Photos taken from our dome topped train ride from Anchorage to Talkeetna, Alaska yesterday.

A Study in Tears

lillian10 Comments

photo

I cried today
peeling onions
at our black marble countertop
knife chopping
on the old scarred cutting board.
I laughed at myself
as salty tears seasoned diced sweet yellow
enough for two, waiting for your footsteps.

I cried today
walking in the rain
the Charles covered in mist
damp fog coolness on my face,
your absence by my side.
A young couple scurried by
unaware that my tears ached
with rivulets from the sky.

I cried today
in front of our tv
on our corduroy couch
stained by tears on wales.
Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr,
an Affair to Remember
their ending so bittersweet
ours so not.

And I wondered
if anyone,
beyond these walls
could hear
my silent
primal
scream.

Motivated by rereading a prompt from my poetry mentor, Holly Wren Spaulding, in a previous class with her.  Write a poem using “anaphora” —  repetition of a word or phrase. 

Photo Op to Words

lillian3 Comments

IMG_1182

….and she looked at me
frustration in her eyes
anger on her lips
and screamed sooo loud:
Can’t you just somehow,
get all your ducks in a row?

I know, I know. The picture is of geese. But eider way ~ the scene on the Charles and the pun ~ make me smile! Just havin’ a little fun this AM with my morning cup of coffee….enjoy your day 🙂 

Mirror Image egamI rorriM

lillian8 Comments

I stand here, you there
separated by a chasm of disbelief.

I know me, I feel me.
Who then, are you?

You must be from another place
or time or universe.

When I turn my head away,
will you laugh at my derision?

Will you reach out,
pat my back and mutely say 

There there, you’ll be alright.
Are you sympathetic to what I see?

My memories are inside of me,
hidden to the outside world.

I do not wear them for all to see.
Why then, do you?

luxurious-mirror-1422353

Photo by Torli Roberts

 

Even Song

lillian11 Comments

green tent

Plop
Patter
Ping
Slow steady nocturnal rain
taps on the yellow-green ceiling
of my ancient canvas tent.
Comfort seeps in as I burrow deep
in my cocoon zippered bag,
crisp cold nose, just outside the seam.
Lids shutter slowly as ears perk to listen.
Thoughts float in a cool haze.
A hooting owl sits sheltered
by spring’s green-yellow canopy.
The drip, drop, patter
plops above its feathered head.
Dreaming now,
a moon sliver guides me
to a sleep moment of clarity.
These rain notes are nature’s evensong.
A prayer
for all who sleep in this forested place.

rain-233545_1280

Revised from one of my very first poems written in February, in my first class with Holly Wren Spaulding. Posted so early in March (as Rain Song) , I doubt but five people saw it!
UPDATE:  I am in Alaska, as you read this! Will be posting every other day for two weeks until I return.  Mostly new — poems that is — although I will be rejuvenated (love that word!) even more upon my return to Boston, our city by the sea.