inspiration

Psalm

lillian6 Comments

Sing
out
this psalm.
Faith is bold
in voiced melody,
a joyful noise unto the Lord.
For we are humble in means and raucous in belief,
sing praises now and forever.
We are one in prayer
one in voice.
We hope
trust
love.
We
believe
in power,
the healing divine.
In our hands the tools, the science
in yours the guidance, the wisdom, all spirit and love.
Your miracles walk among us
and we are grateful.
Sing boldly
unto
the
Lord.

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This is a Fibonacci Spiral Poem. Both the number of lines and the number of syllables for each line are dictated by the form. The poem is meant to be centered in presentation. Written for day 16 NaPoWriMo. Dedicated to Louise, Tom and Carol; and in thanksgiving for every day. The photo is from a beautiful church in Tallin – taken on our Baltic Cruise several years ago.

Fannie Quigley, 1870-1944

lillian21 Comments

Train moved round the bend, civilized now,
not then. Those days, she chose life
off the beaten track. No lookin’ back.
Twenty-six claims staked and panned.
Never hit it rich the way we define it.
Kantishna, home to caribou, moose
and Fannie Quigley. One tough broad.
Slung back whiskey and cussed with ‘em all.
Calloused hands skinned her kill
then rolled flaky pie crust,
bear lard, the secret.
Legendary in her day and beyond,
she took no train but her own.

Written for NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 5 and dVerse Pub for Poets where Bjorn suggests we use the idea of railroad/trains for a poem today. Photo Credits: from our Alaska trip last year. We visited the remote cabin of Fannie Quigley.

Solidarity

lillian32 Comments

Gaggle me group think
wisps of snipers
brooding, hence their evil
festers in murmuration.

Starlings not, cowards yes,
they prey on innocence
maim, murder,
crow hatred as they kill.

Life and exhaltation, a lark to them,
bombs strapped on chests
with heaven their goal,
wing straight to hell.

Let us become congregations
like plovers in flight with doves.
For they are small as one
but pure of heart,

powerful as they soar
symbols, nay beings
of peace and love.

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Written for dVerse. De asks us to write a poem using the names given to gatherings of birds. She thoughtfully provided a wonderful list from which I’ve chosen the following: flight of doves, brood of hens, congregation of plovers, exhaltation of larks, gaggle of geese, murmuration of starlings, murder of crows, and wisp of snipe.  Photo credit: Nevit Dilmen.

 

Aging in My World

lillian35 Comments

I choose life with mystery. Space.
Question marks, exclamations, ellipses
not brackets or parentheses.

Certainty directs,
connects dots by numbers
like choreographed dance steps.

Give me ad lib, jazz scat
one man band with knees that bang.
Meander, run, or tra-la-la.

Tap shoes. Not silly silk slippers.
Too much between Point A and B
to follow a tutu pink linear path.

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Photo Credit: Shirley B.  Posted to Poetry Pantry on Poets United.
Thanks, Bjorn, for the introduction!

 

Rebirth in the Galaxy

lillian5 Comments

Somewhere, light years away,
what was held in trust
shall revive.

The first one thousand miles
between earth’s implosion
and moons’ forever paths,
churns debris, seeds of possibility,
until a shooting star ignites
and a new land births itself.

Small roots find their way
and those that flower understand,
heritage matters.
The Universe remembers
those who strove but could not save
scorched earth, her favorite son.

And so at Latitude 38
she creates a divine place,
reconfigured in her galaxy.
A quiet place of timbers
where midst aquamarine waters,
her children shall try again.

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Found Poetry: following titles taken from the bookshelf in our Bermuda rental: Held in Trust by The Bermuda National Trust; First One Thousand Miles by Gordon Phillips; The Light Years by Elizabeth Jane Howard; Heritage Matters by Dr. Edward Harris; and Latitude 38 (a magazine). Photo: from a walk along Bermuda’s Old Rail Way Trail. Poem is inspired by Global Warming, something that too many seem to deny.

Bryce Canyon

lillian17 Comments

Paiutes called them Legend People turned to stone by Coyote. I call them mystical.

Silhouettes evolved from ancient seaway. Columns of ochre and orange-pink. Water, ice and gravity had their way with you. Slot canyons so narrow the head strains up for blue. Shadowed red when sun slants in. Thin rims so high there is nothing but everything beside. We tread in awe among these hoodoo pillars. This place of craggy, sharp-edged, smooth, fantastical shapes.

Rocks eroded tall
time escaped in canyons deep
we like specks of dust.

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It was Haibun Monday at dVerse, the Pub for Poets. Rajani is tending bar and asked us to write about a travel experience. Haibun is “richly woven prose amplified by simple yet profound haiku. In its traditional sense, it connects to nature and travel. Photos from trip to Bryce many years ago.