humanity

. . . and their spirits shall descend

lillian68 Comments

like tears gathered in veiled mist.
No loud incendiary words
nor rattling of chains.
Whisper soft,
they cling to mountains
obscure city views,
tall buildings topless
windows moist with deeds past.
They await a new awakening
renewed warmth of will,
a dawn of hope.

Quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today’s word is “whisper.”  Photos: left, taken on our trip to Alaska; right by Jesse Miksic.
May the spirit and hope of Martin Luther King, Bobby Kennedy, Barrack Obama, and John Lewis infuse our land.

Yuletide Carol, 2016

lillian49 Comments

In the quiet spaces
my heart awaits a miracle.

A family with no home
carrying a gift within,
sought shelter on the darkest of nights.
Turned away,
their solace lay with stable mates
and a symbol of Love was born.

As the world seethes
a baby in Aleppo writhes with pain,
feels not the love promised to many.
Angels hover,
ethereal wings tattered and torn.
Their yuletide song has but six words.

How has it come to this?

angel-figure-451923_1920

Created for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.  dVerse will take a holiday hiatus, but I shall keep posting here.  Heads up! Tomorrow’s post is about our recent trip to Australia and includes some amazing photos of a mama wallaby and her joey!

Special thanks to Bjorn, Gail and all my fellow pub tenders. And a very special thanks to all dVerse participants for making 2016 a great year! 

And What Shall Ye Say?

lillian24 Comments

Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.
Words from Bob Dylan’s iconic song, Blowin’ in the Wind

The airways reverberate
vitriolic hatred, spewed humiliation
despicable, visceral crudity.
Not crudité as in aperitif.
Main entré of spoils.

The wildfire is aflame
catching drafts of ignorance.
No longer can we pretend.
These are not embers
quietly waning in desert sand.

We must be the douser,
each by declaring no.
It must not be this way.
It cannot be this way.
It is not this way.

The answer is not blowin’ in the wind.
The answer is us.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Bjorn is hosting and celebrating announcement of the Nobel Prize for Literature to Bob Dylan. Whether you agree with the selection or not, there is no denying the power his words had for so many during difficult times in America’s history. It seems to me, we are in the midst of trying, frightening times again. This poem is dedicated to Bob Dylan’s genius talent, and to Michelle Obama for having the courage yesterday, to stand up and speak out. 

The Tear Drop

lillian40 Comments

i.
If you insist, turn a deaf ear.
Tear thread by thread
cherished maxims from the cloak of civility.
Ye shall find a skeleton of pock marked bones
bereft of tear drops, wallowing in dust.

ii.
Some denigrate her promise,
hurl angry words upon that ancient crown.
All who first sailed round her base, forgotten,
as the brazen would douse her torch of hope.
She stands sentinel ‘neath a sliver moon,
solitary tear drop rung from stone
frozen on sculpted cheek.

iii.
Violence rips across city streets
sirens scream and echo through news.
Voices raise, fists raise,
and mothers fall on knees.
Not one tear drop falls,
it is a deluge that turns spilled blood
into rivers of salted red.

iv.
A tear drop
is the same color,
no matter the skin.

statue-of-liberty-in-tears2-0
Bjorn is hosting dVerse today and uniquely is adapting the cubist movement in art to the art ofpoetry. He asks to to select a simple object, or common concept, and write several poems looking at it from different perpectives. Ultimately, we are to place the poems in an order to create contrasts and, when read together, form one poem.  Individual parts – also to be read as a whole.
I’ve chosen to write about the tear drop.