memories

For Sale

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Hands scraped, pulled and peeled.
Stripped bare in three hectic days
she gave up secrets long unseen.
Layer upon layer
she revealed her past.

Mauve moons, café scenes
wedgewood-blue stenciled designs
pale rose buds the last.
Memories removed, she stood
waiting, exposed

until they came again.
Colors slathered, rolled.
Taupe, beige, and palest grey.
Senses dulled, she cowered,
pale in disbelief.

Windows wide-eyed,
she watched
as strangers came to gawk.
Pried her private parts,
talked as if she was not there.

Once so full of life and love,
a shell of what she was.
Homeless,
just a house
lifeless on the streets.

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Memoriam

lillian63 Comments

Did you hear the winds rustle that day?
Metaphors soared on the backs of gulls.
Thousands of unused words,
ideas not yet writ,
wended their way into the night sky.
A poet’s earth journey complete,
she lives now, forever beautiful,
among the shimmering stars.

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Quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse as Grace asks us to use the word “journey.” dVerse is celebrating its fifth anniversary this week. Link up to join in the celebration!
Written in memory of poet Viv Blake who died suddenly on July 5, 2016. Photo taken while in Portland, Maine this past June.

Night Time Nostalgia

lillian2 Comments

nights etched in mind
black water glistens
harbor lights beam on sea
shadow figures lean toward wind
far away music starts and stalls
tree frogs serenade the stars
stars peek from black sky
Bermuda’s scrim of night

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Photo from our deck in Bermuda, just before the stars came out in force….in February. We were right on the harbor….so many beautiful evenings!  Prompt is from my recent June class — write a poem of nostalgia.

Scentalicious

lillian49 Comments

Backyard lilac walk-about
honeysuckle and new cut grass
leaves piled high, burning bright
apple-pie-oven and baking bread
grandma’s wrinkled talcum skin
gingerbread men and cinnamon
outside pine tree brought within
season by season,
scentalicious all

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Written for dVerse Poets’ Pub with Grace tending bar today. Today’s Poetics asks us to write a poem about scent.

Baby Album

lillian11 Comments

I still look at it.
On birthdays and occasional winter days,
when the snow swirls
and makes the windows glazed.
I wanted to keep moments of you
for you to meet, much later in life.
Lock of hair, corn silk fine.
Stick figures with circle knees
drawn by pudgy hands.
First this and first that.
A young mother’s notes.
Faded ink and colors smudged,
spine too thin for all within.
I wanted to keep moments of you
for you to meet, much later in life.

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Written for a June challenge from Holly Wren Spaulding’s class: write about something you saved for someone else.

Reunion

lillian2 Comments

Friendly foursome of youth
we lived near Mississippi shores
dancing with fire flies,
oblivious to time.

Fifty years of days gone by
we meet again,
laughter etched in faces lined,
steps slowed by trials of time.

Remember-when stories shared
told and retold louder now.
Sitting young in wizened frames,
we laugh and love in cherished time.

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Old friends. Young hearts. Augustana College is located in Rock Island, Illinois — along the shores of the mighty Mississippi – our alma mater. 

Elegy

lillian31 Comments

Father to five, beloved son,
you left far too suddenly.
Unable to escape or run,
knees buckled at Death’s glee.

And we were left behind in shock,
screams and rampant grief.
Angry words turned empty talk,
echoed wails with no relief.

Standing graveside, stooped in loss,
tears drenched with memories
fell upon your coffin etched with cross,
placed ‘neath quaking Aspen trees.

Rest now, my brother dear
and know that we are well.
Your children’s children keep you near,
and their children shall as well.

For all their hopes in future years
their smiles, their deeds in numbers swell,
all of these my brother dear
your legacy do tell.

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Written for dVerse — asking us to do an elegy today.
Photo is my brother, nine years older than me, died far too young at 51. Gone more than twenty years, I still miss him.

Memorial Day 2016

lillian47 Comments

Stars and stripes ripple in the breeze,
spirits from thousands past
breathing life into those folds of cloth.
The lone sound of Taps cuts through crisp air
bearing witness to their sacrifice,
the price they willingly paid
that we might live in freedom’s path.

american-flag-373362_1920Bjorn is tending the bar today at dVerse Poets’ Pub and asks us to write a quadrille (44 words) using the word “breeze.”  Taps is a slow haunting melody, traditionally performed by a lone bugler, at military funerals and ceremonies.  Today, May 30, 2016 is Memorial Day in the USA – a day on which we honor those patriots who died serving our country; and give thanks to all veterans who have served or are serving today.

 

Outdoors, Seven Flights Up

lillian43 Comments

Listening for city warblers,
red cardinals perched on cement ledges,
impatient jays clinging to limbs.
Ears cringe at raucus horns,
cherry red vehicles rush
nowhere fast, just out of view.
Grey skies meld into buildings,
perfectly perpendicular
floor upon floor upon stack
upon stack upon stacks.
Right angles everywhere.
My lawn chair, an oxymoron
on this outdoor slab,
seven floors up, walls on three sides.
Eyes close so memory can recall
morning Kiskadee songs at dawn,
Bermuda’s blue upon blue horizon
where shimmering waters touch the sky.

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Written for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets’ Pub.