lillian the home poet

I Was, I Am

July 19, 2017lillian28 Comments

She stood outside the car, the driver impatiently snacking on pistachio nuts inside. The waiting seemed interminable. She’d come so far for this moment. Found the certificate stuffed in her mother’s journal. Attended the funeral, dry-eyed, in shock. This was her destiny. Would he recognize it as his?

How could a name inscribed on a document, assume fatherhood after a lifetime in absentia? She held the document in shaking hands, ready to show him the proof. She could see the trail of dust far down the road, kicked up by the approaching vehicle. A new reality was about to materialize.

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Written for Friday Fictioneers where the talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields poses a photo prompt each week. Classified by some as “flash fiction” we are to limit our text to 100 words or less. Word Count here = 100 Photo Credit: Kent Bonham

Anxiety

July 19, 2017lillian12 Comments

still standing
standing still
both feet bolted
fear clamped
desperate
to flee

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A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Maybe two. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. The shorter the better. Misky posts Twiglet prompts every Tuesday. Anxiety uses twiglets 32 (with both feet) and 33 (still standing). Photo in public domain at Pixabay.

Night View from 7N

July 18, 2017July 18, 2017lillian52 Comments

Outside, an evening still-life
city sounds gone.
Color wheel spun to day’s end,
the stuff of coloratura
no more.
Within the darkness,
a multiplicity of light.

Tree leaves
individual by day
morphed imperceptible,
indistinct within their larger shape.
Lunar glow, specks of bright,
office window flickers,
shadows in grays.

Not black or white.
No monochrome this.

Softened lines and curves.
Milky illumination
blending into hazy ebony.
Outside my window,
a continuum of grace.
My urban amen
as I slip into sleep.

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We’re Looking Out/Looking In at dVerse today. I’m hosting Tuesday’s Poetics and asking everyone to consider the windows in their apartment/home. They can either look in or look out; look at the view or the window itself. And then write a poem that somehow deals with that window, metaphorically or in reality (poetic license allowed, of course!). Each writer is to do two things: 1) post the photo of their window or view from their window; and 2) write a poem motivated by that photo, using the word “window” in either the title or text of the poem. And by the way, dVerse just celebrated their 6th anniversary yesterday!! dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM Boston time today. Come on over and post your “view” and/or just take a peek with us! All are welcome!

Film Noir, Act 36

July 17, 2017July 17, 2017lillian81 Comments

Graveyard journey.
Ghosts whisper, dance,
twist, shimmer.
Breeze skips through leaves.
Clouds balloon, curl, drizzle,
storm bubbles open.
Lightning sparks, sounds echo.

Dawn spills, melts rose-red.
Peppered blood-shadows
scar green spring grass.
Nervous giggle jars grin,
breath flickers.
Cue still lull,
death lurks near.

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[INCLUDES ALL THE WORDS THUS FAR]
Grace hosts Quadrille Monday today at dVerse, And it is the 6th anniversary of dVerse! Quadrille Mondays are held every other week. Quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Each time a word prompt is given: week #1 = Quadrille #1 and 1 word; Week #2 = Quadrille #2 and a new word; etc. We build to Quadrille # 44 in week 44 with still another word. We’re on Week #36 and the prompt word is “flicker.” Past words this series have included pepper, dance, bubble, grin, lull, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath, scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, drizzle, still, echo, sound, storm, spring, and balloon. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Bereft

July 15, 2017lillian5 Comments

Words falter, flicker,
like a moist match head
producing sulfuric stench
dropping its ash.
Ideas flit through synapses
dead end at fingertips.
Oh fleeting poetic muse,
thou has forsaken me.
Clouds filter lunar rays,
dullness ensues.
I am spent.

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Summer

July 12, 2017July 12, 2017lillian14 Comments

banana popsicle me
sticky fingers and chin

hopscotch me
chalked up sidewalk
and banged up knees

fireflies me
off and on orbs
in my back yard

beach me
squiggly toes
in wet rippled sand

remembering
sweet days of youth.

Garden Scene

July 8, 2017lillian8 Comments

sunflowers
instinctively gaze toward warmth
nature’s weather vanes

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Calamity

July 6, 2017lillian8 Comments

She leaned against the wall
sun beating down
sweat on her brow,
legs aquiver.

No doubt about it
a long hard fall
a catastrophe ’tis true,
but she’d landed on her feet.

She counted in her head
one . . .
two . . .
ah. . . . just three.

She arched her back
preened a bit
and catwalked down the lane.
Six more to go.

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Includes July’s word prompt from my granddaughter, “catastrophe.”

Perpetuity

July 5, 2017lillian2 Comments

Come roundabout with me.
Twelve months
January then January,
again and again.
Hours one to twelve repeat
add A to M or change to P.
Teeter up must teeter down
hinged to teeter up again.
Perennials are as annuals will.
Your hands are theirs and ours
to fold, to point, to plant and pray.
Stones cast upon the waters
ripple out toward the morrow.
Time copulates where we are
and when we’re not.
I am. You are. We are will be
small arcs within the world
go roundabout with thee.