To live in shadows doth chill the soul
and thus my invitation,
come with me to greet the morn.
Together, we shall find the sun
the light and sustenance for our way.
happiness
Oh My!
She tickles my funny bone
two front teeth, gone
bare space, a badge of honor
exchange rate higher now
fairies demand more.
Metaphor
Her red silk scarf
tossed aside in passion
lies still on dew kissed grass.
A slight breeze unfurls,
curls beneath its folds
ripples flow from edge to edge.
The morning storm
not expected,
rolls in stronger gusts.
Gossamer strands arc
higher and higher still
until vivid crimson
shatters darkened skies.
A New Day
Come join me at the dawn
lift up your hopes,
lay bare your heart.
I promise this, my love
our dreams shall soar
with the morning sun.
In response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge: the dawn is symbolic of new beginnings.
Door to Her World
Chamber for metamorphosis
cells, toes, body, mind
meld, breathe, grow within
seek and find
passage to the world.
Cord nurtured life
cut, but not.
Tether stretches,
sometimes taunt
always there.
Fingers clasp, spirit touches
eyes smile, seek and find.
You were the beginning.
You are the constant star
an infinite circle of love.
Tap Into Life’s Lessons
Magic shoes! Shiny black with big looped bows
slabs of silver metal screwed on soles.
Best gift ever, when I was oh so young.
And oh how I remember…..
NOISE.
PURE NOISE!!!
Swing a leg. Stomp, march, slap, clang!!
Body all feet. ALL SOUNDS.
EVEN WHen i tiptoed.
Add lessons, Tuesdays at ten.
To learn.
Teacher teaches,
directs, muzzles.
Shu-ffle, shu-ffle.
Shu- no, NO, NO!
SHHHH!!!
Like-this.
Con-trol the-swing,
shor-ter. NOT so big.
Shu-ffle, shu-ffle.
One-two, one-two.
Slow-down. Con-trol the-sound.
Com-press your-space.
And there I was, in the mirrored wall,
shrinking. Like putting reins on little feet.
Learning to be small
while growing big.
Learning to fit in.
Sunday’s White Rose
Among the quiet
full bloomed beauty seen by all
blushes tints of pink.
Unexpected
Seven squares sit empty
in front of the number circled in red,
preceded by months of exes. Solid black lines
crossed at the exact middle point.
Belly so big, feet are questionable.
End of season sweet corn devoured,
dripped butter solidified on plate’s edge.
Slab of apple pie about to be devoured.
Fork stops. I stop. Puzzled. Wet.
Not like a dam’s breech,
more like the trickle of a creek.
Not exactly by the book.
Wheels spin, gravel crunches,
rocks spray at mewling farm cats.
Roads rush by.
Do you feel the earth calling you,
my moans stalling you?
Years later, we wait impatiently,
while you adjust lipstick, stalling.
This time, we’re ready.
But you’re not.
Garden Haven
A reflection pool lies elongated
surrounded by earth-tone tiles
lacey leafed trees, like still life
mirrored on water canvas.
Serene in symmetry,
myriad shades of soothing green
white clematis peek from vines
cascade down ancient stone walls.
Meticulous care by some invisible hand
so evident in this magical place
we tread lightly, voices hushed
afraid to intrude.
Junie Z.
West School, still here.
That metal bar around the schoolyard,
smoother now. So many years
of little hands sliding along its surface.
I bend low, touch its coolness
and you’re with me again.
Junie with the short dark hair.
Eyes closed, I see four anklet socks
in plain brown mary janes
kick up and over the rail,
cotton dresses in laughing faces.
Up the street, a car alarm blares.
And just like that,
your laughter floats away,
my hand lifted from the bar.
WRITING PROMPT in my June Challenge class: recall a memory of someone, what provoked the memory — a scent, a place?
lillian the home poet 
