In the darkness of early morn
candle light multiplies.
Glows softly upon the shelf
reflects in window panes
and illuminates my soul.
Photo credit: debbie miller
hope
Moments
Wayward cells grow
the shy speak, the far come near
love surrounds as body dissipates
defiance gives way to destiny
present dissolves from gift to waiting place
angels kneel, ushers ready to rise,
battle almost won.
His tears, moist on her parched lips
she rattle sighs
and her spirit soars.
The March
He watched in amazement from the fifth floor window. He told Melinda it would never work. Her eyes damp, remembering.
But they were coming in droves. From the subway stop. Riding bicycles. Pushed in strollers. In school uniforms and ragged jeans. All colors. All sizes. Children of hope, many with handmade signs.
Hundreds bowed their heads in prayer, and then began to walk from the old Transportation Building to City Hall. Melinda held the banner high. No More Hurting People. Peace Now. Her locket caught the sun and gleamed at him. Their son’s picture within the small gold heart.
98 words. Written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Photo by Roger Bultot.
Battle
They boil in hatred,
witness disregard of life
violence erupts.
She simmers in pain,
cancer invades her body,
prayer uplifts her soul.
December Poetry Challenge, Day 1: Write a two phrase poem: begin by looking out and away from yourself. What do you see, hear, find? Then narrow your gaze, almost as if you were tightening the focus on a movie camera. What’s close at hand? Make these two elements speak as one poem. Employ brevity. Dedicated to a dear friend.
Bridges
At this age, spectacles sit precariously,
the bridge of my nose their perch.
Magnify life’s past,
forks in the road, hillsides with ruts
sea side suns and city life,
so many bridges forged.
Looking ahead, the distance is less.
Tread slowly the tunnel etched on the map,
transition away from and into the dark.
Or seek light, transition forward
cross o’er the bridge and soar slowly,
glide through the transom and savor the view.
Photos of Zakim Bridge in Boston, MA. Poem motivated by Daily Post Photo Challenge: Transition. Bridges, of many kinds, transition us from place to place.
Respite
houseboat river meander
sun glistened water
rain ping roof and ripple swish base
doe eyes stare from woods across
myriad shades of green
priceless time away
feeds my soul
soothes my mind
city life be gone
Unsettling Found Poetry – Sitting on a Book Shelf
It is a wicked time.
Pride and prejudice run amok
fueled by devices and desires.
Politicians play the confidence game,
endangered values center stage.
The dreams from my father
seem so very long ago.
Sunday drives in the family car,
unlocked doors, porches with swings.
That used to be us.
Today I watch appalled.
Certain trumpets spew vitriolic words.
In cold blood stories litter newsprint pages,
stained red in televised image
too often unseen by too many.
Let us pray for a still life
with bread crumbs for everyone,
hope we are not racing a timeline
to the end of [y]our life book club.
Amen.
Created from book titles found on a Chicago book shelf: Wicked by Gregory Maguire, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Devices and Desires by P.D. James, Confidence Game by Christine S. Richard, Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama, That Used To Be Us by Thomas Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum, Certain Trumpets by Garry Wills, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, Still Life With Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen, Timeline by Michael Crichton, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe.
Seth and June
He lived in the pink house, she in the white. They grew up together laughing, climbing the hillside, riding the school bus. No one was surprised when he proposed. It was quietly assumed. Seth and June.
Just days after the wedding, his unit was called. She wept and he promised to return.
Eight months of living with her folks. Skyping when possible, through static and frozen image. And now she sat, secret intact. Large belly pressed against the pane, a new life about to enter theirs. She waited for him to round the bend. Promise fulfilled and multiplied by two.
100 words. Photo Credit: Sandra Crook — basis for this week’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge by Rochelle Wisoff.
Parameters
You said twenty miles as the crow flies.
On a hot still day, with a tail wind
or through an electrical storm?
Your six minute cardiac arrest,
like a lifetime. Until it wasn’t.
Birthday note penned in blue,
seventy is the new fifty.
Like a wilted brown-edged rose
is a pink rose bud? Hardly.
Sun rays pierce gathering clouds
as blackness sits beside my pane.
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
Or evermore? Never sure.
And there is a world of difference,
but how do I measure that?
Motivated by a Fall Poetry Apprenticeship Week 7 assignment: consider a misunderstood or misquoted line of a poem, or something you misunderstood or misheard.
For the Love of
Prayer beads grasped in hands
tears falling, fingers trembling,
she prays for her sons.
As of Nov. 14: Dedicated to Paris
Photo Credit: Nico van Diem
lillian the home poet 