hope

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.

IMG_0191

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!

I am the Sins of Those Before Me

lillian45 Comments

They arrived in droves, valuable cargo.
Used for the well being of others
to plant and sow, shod our horses,
tend our fields and homes.

In their visibility they were anonymous.
They were bid upon and owned.
Free will shackled in irons,
inhumanity by humanity.

This is our history. Not sepia toned
nor romantically blurred by antiquity.
Not smudged as charcoal blends,
disappears into fine threads of vellum.

This is our history,
and I am ashamed.

Posted to dVerse where Bjorn is hosting OLN; opens at 3 PM Boston time.
No photo posted with this poem. Racism still lives and appears on nightly news. I crave the dream of Martin Luther King and pray for all our children, for a better, kinder, more just world.

 

In the Balance

lillian56 Comments

For six minutes you belonged to eternity. Then paddles upon your chest. Twice.
You were here but not here. A stainless steel and glassed in room with whirrs, beeps, and methodical suction sounds. Your body, cold and dormant, in transition. A shell suspended in time that encased your soul, your mind. You were somewhere in a season unknown to us. We waited. We prayed for your voice and love and laugh to break through and survive.

chrysalis hangs by thread
holds life in transition within its seams
to be or not to be

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Photo Credit: Alfonso Diaz

It’s haibun Monday at dVerse and our beloved Toni reminds us that in Japanese culture, the aesthetic is all about change – impermanence. “Mujo. Our lives are not the same as yesterday nor will they be the same tomorrow.” Haibun: prose (not fiction) followed by a nature-related haiku. dVerse opens today at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Toni will be taking a hiatus from dVerse until November. We shall miss her dearly.
October 15, 2013: the love of my life broke through and returned to us. Thankful for every day.

 

Wishful Thinking

lillian54 Comments

There are grey days
cloud descendant misty days
loud angry thunder days
torturously grueling tortoise days
furiously frenetic days
and there are flowers.

Petals for the gathering.

Sunflower fields
heady lilacs, sweet moss rose
shasta daisies, brown-eyed susans
and anytime-of-day four o’clocks.
All ye readers, come flower with me.
Close your eyes and just imagine

a world in bloom, not aflame,
an every hour morning glory.

Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics where Mish asks us to make a wish today. All photos taken from various vacations, walks around Boston and Provincetown.

 

Be Ye Not Desolate

lillian59 Comments

White curtains flutter.
Breeze billows through fabric,
createing long cloth ripples
filled and unfilled by unseen wind.

Door left ajar.
The void space within its frame,
a vacancy that waits
filled with hope.

The null set.
Emptiness that knows,
change by one
changes everything.

1450506950396

Written for dVerse, a virtual poets’ pub, where Bjorn is tending bar today and asks us to write a quadrille (44 words, not including title) that makes use of the word jar. A bit of poetic license: did include a jar (ajar).

 

At the Gate

lillian39 Comments

The mare, so far away,
a sense of movement in the fields.

I stood watching,
belly nine months large.
Motion rippled through the grass
matched by rushing winds.

Mane flowing, she galloped toward me,
legs in synch with some internal pace
ears pinned against the breeze.
I stared, mesmerized.

She sauntered close,  approached the gate
then slowly turned and bent to graze,
beads of sweat upon her flanks
breathing deeply at her task.

I stood watching quietly
until arms jerked reflexively,
hands to back as waves within me
grew to jabs, a quickening pace.

And so I left the mare that day,
neighing softly in the winds.
She watched me as I’d watched her,
when I placed the latch upon the gate
and crosed the creek toward home.

horse-1024745_1920

Posting today for OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Gayle opens the bar at 3 PM – drop in and imbibe some words!