Relationships

Confessional

lillian21 Comments

My heart slips,
falls.
Ice encrusted long ago,
disappointed.
Abandoned. Ignored.
Disgorged.

Shattered sound
ricochets.
Too late I understand.
I am the abandoner.
Aortic contractions
in northernmost veins.

Earth shudders
heaves
lets go,
as I have her.

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Anmol hosts Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today, she asks us to explore confessional poetry. In Confessional, whose voice is heard in the first stanza? The confessor appears in the second and third stanza. This is how I felt when we took our trip to Alaska several years ago. I witnessed and heard the calving that is occurring more and more as we ignore the plight of our earth. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Telltale Signs

lillian29 Comments

Dandelion wisps
tangled in hair,
cooing to butterflies
fingers she flutters.
Turning she runs
ready for flight,
clambers on swing
wishing she might.

Higher she shouts
Daddy push higher!
Smiling, he does,
thankful for fairies.
Their magical gift
a changeling,
the child he adores.

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It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and De asks us to use the word “change” (or a form of the word) within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Image from Pixabay.com. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Alter Ego

lillian39 Comments

Trash art.
But not to me.

Paint brush body
bottle opener arms.
Metal disk eyes
always open.
Clock innard springs
‘neath blooming heart.
Curved metal strip
forever smile.

They say
art speaks to you.

 Pull yourself together,
use what you’ve got.
Uniquely assembled,
bloom where you are.
Wear a perky hat
eyes wide open,
smile at the world
and they’ll smile back.

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I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets – which means I create the prompt. And today’s prompt is “Come hang with me!”  Choose something hanging in your house (on a wall, from a bookcase, in your closet, etc) and write a poem about it! I’ve asked that folks include a photo so we can see what they’re writing about. This lovely piece of “trash art” hangs in my study, on the side of my desk. I see her every morning and she always makes me smile! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Empathy

lillian64 Comments

What if I became you?
A three-letter being instead of a one.
Not won but lost.
In your shoes with one lost sole.
A lost soul.

What if you became them?
A four-letter being instead of a three.
Not a one. Never won.
You as them. Not allowed in.
On the other side.

Outside, like them.
The other’s side.
Not here. Never here.
What if you were them?
You, an other.

statue-of-liberty-in-tears2-0

Merril opens the new year at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to consider time and space and what if. Her prompt: “What if you – or someone else – or some THING else – took that less or more-traveled path? Would it make a difference? Will it make a difference?  Look backward, forward, inside, and out. Then wonder, what if?” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and begin your 2019 by imbibing some words today!

Love Unwrapped

lillian18 Comments

There is vulnerability
in unconditional love.
Sensual giving,
baring our souls.
We commune
in tonight’s passion
and tomorrow’s mundane.
We are,
as love is.

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Anmol (HA) is guest hosting at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to explore desire and sexuality in poetry – and to write about desire and identity. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time…come join us!

Fashion Forward

lillian2 Comments

Hats . . .
so many in a lifetime
exchanged with curves in road.
Strapped on through squalls,
gently worn on balmy days
stored on shelf when out of style.

Mother-hat,
adjustable as needed
blessed to wear.
Daugher-sister hats
occasions departed,
retired too soon.

Yourlove-hat
once perky, so with-the-times
never veiled.
Labelled vintage now
slightly creased with age,
worn with gentle smile.

Yourlove always,
shining in my mirror.

 

Thank You

lillian72 Comments

You are harborrific.
When squalls appear,
dark clouds that threaten hope
creating an eclipse hard to swallow,
you are my comfort place.

I love our passion.
But mostly . . .

I love lying beside you.
Our hand-touching-hand
breath-slowing-to-sleep
end-of-day soothing, calming
togetherness time.

IMG_1854

I’m hosting Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today, I’m asking folks to consider the word harbor. Use harbor or a form of the word in your quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). I’m looking for harborlicious poems — taking a bite of poetic license with the word is allowed — as long as we see the word. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!