fantasy

Oracle

lillian13 Comments

Card table covered in dusty gauze scarf,
book case with tattered paper backs
two chipped coffee mugs
and one stuffed black bird.
This basement flat, windows dark
gold stars and silver moon
taped on black garbage plastic.

She sits, tarot deck in hand
gnarled fingers poised to read,
nail tips brown from nicotine.
Curling grey wisps of hair
bejeweled barrette, three stones
so obviously missing.

I watch wearily. Smell her breath
and incense stick. Shove down
this nauseous urge. I must hear.
She must tell me what I need to hear.
And she hoarsely begins to speak.

SONY DSC

Written for Ms. Quickly’s prompt, this way to the oracle.
Photo Credit: Ruxandra Moldoveanu.

How May I?

lillian26 Comments

Where is this place your camera stills?
I want to step inside, kaleidoscope left behind,
a monochrome to soothe the soul.

Bedspread created long ago,
thread-circle trails of small stitches
smoothed by generations’ rest.
Wooden cupboard beside the bed
holds graceful, long necked pitcher
inside smooth china bowl,
poised to share cooling waters
rinse woes from worried hands.
Single curtain draped in gauzy folds
lacks taut crease, pressed edge or hem.
Pulled gently to one side, reveals stone wall
somehow softened through old glass panes.
Flowers blossom just beyond,
lines blurred between petal, stem and earth.

No black, no white, no bright cacophony.
The serenity I will surely feel,
if I could step within.

portarthur11bw2

Photo Credit: Kaz Gosper. Thank you Kaz for allowing me to write a piece about this stunning photo from your trip to the Port Arthur historic site in Tasmania. I truly enjoy following daysandmonths — Kaz’ site where she shares her absolutely stunning photography. Please drop by and enjoy her work!  Also sharing this piece with dVerse Poets Pub, open link night #164 where Gayle tended bar last evening!

Channeling

lillian30 Comments

He lived on the streets. His junkie parents couldn’t deal when the infection went to his ears. He could sign though. Well enough that petrified folks gave up their money to the frightening, grunting teen.

Today’s cold was numbing. He entered the church and spied the antique clavier. He found himself sitting, eyes glazed, watching his fingers fly over the keys. What the? And somehow, music filled his head. Loud, crashing crescendos of…

The cop’s shove knocked Ludwig off the stool. The angry gesture sent him sulking back outside. He stopped to listen, straining. Nothing. The mute world stared back.

hh-spinet

Word Count: 100   Although it’s Wednesday, this piece of flash fiction is for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers. Photo Credit: Jan W. Fields.  Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 to 1827) was almost totally deaf in the last decade of his life. Many of his most admired pieces were composed in that last decade. Would that a homeless young boy might have his talents and we would never know.

Stellar Transition

lillian3 Comments

Magic beans lie atop the fallow ground
rooted by tears those many years ago.
His death, unexpected
after one hundred glorious days.

She’d waited patiently,
gossamer hair now grey.
And when the monsoon rains did come
they matched her grief in magnitude.

Rivers engorged
became fast running seas.
Earth drenched in new hope,
the magic began to grow.

Tendrils became vines
became trees became redwoods,
and blushed at her ascent.
Last steps on lightning’s jagged stairs.

His fingertips reached down for hers,
thunderous clouds turned calm.
And a new blaze was born that night,
third star to the north of Sirius.

thunderbolt-1158506

Photo Credit:  Michele de Notaristefani

Ms. Poppins’ Travails

lillian29 Comments

Drones.
Little mechanical beasties
shall not be my demise!
Flashing metal, whirs and spins,
winds whoosh. Just concentrate!
Umbrella steady, point toes left.
Nose bleeding, dress in shreds
whirling blades too close again.
Children waiting. Parents chafing.
Magic wearing thin.
Umbrella soon to be
my rain-only accessory.

showers_umbrella

With apologies to Mary Poppins.  Motivated by Dverse Poets Pub prompt: create a Persona Poem. Decided to take the “light” approach today — a little humor to hopefully make you smile.

Dear Peter Pan

lillian7 Comments

I need your help,
the crocodile is getting close.
Time just seems to disappear
even on ho hum days.

Please send Tinker Bell
to flit round my head.
I’ll remember then
to think wonderful things.

And the starry sky
outside my window
will look more inviting
when it’s my turn to fly.

lillian

peter pan

 

Quickly’s Winter Doldrums Jan 10 Prompt: write an epistolary poem – a poem in the form of a letter.

 

Sunday’s Invitation

lillian6 Comments

Come meander with me,
a moon walk among scattered dreams
to explore the tantalizing.

Choose the light and join hands.
This shadow of mine shall disappear
as we climb out from the depths.

Secrets one and two shall be no more,
and we shall discover all we need
in that open space created by shared souls.

Our desires shall blend, one upon the other
like rose petals cling to their bursting bud
in the midst of a slow delightful rain song.

And we shall be two as one,
ready for Monday’s promise
this feeling, this exhilaration,
this passion called Love.

rose-bud-1306629

Motivated by Quickly’s Winter Doldrums: Create a list of titles – then be creative with them.  Sunday’s Invitation includes titles from some of my very first poems (started writing poetry in February 2015) and are some of my very early posts (started site in March 2015). Meander, Moonwalk, Scattered Dreams, Tantalizing, Choose the Light, Shadow of Mine, From the Depths, Secrets One and Two, All We Need, Rain Song, Monday’s Promise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snow Angel

lillian8 Comments

In the midst of the forest, a winter mystery.

Quietly I tread, trail growing in drifts
this midnight walk to escape my emptiness.
One soft breeze, but for a moment,
takes my eyes to the scene.

Wide-winged depression on new fallen snow
sole sign of disturbance this quiet night.
Footprints absent, no tracks, not a soul,
trees stand tall, hushed in veil of white.

An aura of glimmer appears in that shape
lifts slowly, approaches, then hovers
with me in its midst,
that moment of calm, a moment of peace.

Crystals of light narrow to rise
higher and higher, and then they are gone.
Snow mounded where once they lie
and I left in wonder, my eyes to the sky.

snow angel photo by Debbie Shiel