togetherness

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.

white-dove-spirit-of-peace-1244811

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.

 

Lovers

lillian33 Comments

Sun slips into sea
tinging waters pink
as first love’s blush.

Their love, sowed and tilled
through leaving tears,
rekindled in this place

where sky melts blue
into waves of aquamarine.
Bodies meld familiar

then spark as old wick
stammers then flames,
passion reborn.

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Quadrille (44 word poem) using the word “melt” as prompted by Grace, tending the bar at dVerse, a poet’s virtual pub.  Photo: sunset from our deck in Bermuda.

Ganache

lillian45 Comments

Ma cherie, mon amour, au naturelle
like dew drops upon rosebud petals,
champagne bubbles tickling my nose.

Sweet crème fraiche atop fresh picked berries,
whip cream dollups daubed scoop by scoop
on thick chocolat pâtisserie.

Quite simply put, my dear,
you are my ganache.

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Quadrille (44 word poem) for Monday’s dVerse, and today, De Jackson our bartender at the pub, asks that we include the word “bubble.”  Photo Credit: Enrica Bressan.

Scissor Me You

lillian9 Comments

Two young blades were we
all shear joy
making lacey hearts
and peek-a-boos too.

Red crayons broken,
black marker now dry
we’re older, less sharp
and rusted with age.

In synch through the years,
our curves more rounded
our pace less quick,
we still meet at the heart
you and I.

We make each other
our valentine.

homemade-valentine-1312087

Photo credit: Julia Freeman-Woolpert

Angels Along the Way

lillian54 Comments

Six minute eternity,
seventy-two hours ago.
A cardiac arrest.

Doctors talked incessantly,
you may return or not.
And if yes . . .

Then a voiceless lull
filled that sterile beeping room
and angels’ wings were heard,
as they carried you back to me.

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Dylan Thomas, in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog [first published by Dent on 4 April 1940] provided a whimsical explanation of the word “lull” – A host of angels must be passing by. What a silence there is!  

Angels Along the Way is  a quadrille (44 word poem) using the word “lull” — the prompt given by Bjorn at dVerse, a Poet’s Pub.  Do visit this fabulous site!
Photo credit: Benjamin Earwicker.
Thankful for every day! 

Knitting for Love

lillian42 Comments

Like our life, a meld of tangles and the beautiful.
Skeins of wool.
Layer upon layer, unwound and wound again, shaped anew
redefined for you.
My arms, for warmth ‘neath heavens above,
reflect our love,
as we stand, dreams shared, taking hold of
us in this sparkling path of moonlight.
We blend together, you and I, like bright
skeins of wool, redefined for you, reflect our love.

purple-yarn-1424788

An Ovillejo written for dVerse. A Spanish form of verse, ovillejo is a 10 line poem: rhyme scheme aa, bb, ccd, dd and the final 10th line must be lines 2, 4 &  6 verbatim.  Lines 2, 4 and 6 are short, remaining lines long. Whew!  Like doing a sudoku in poetry!!!  Photo Credit: Ula Kapala

The Kiss

lillian35 Comments

It was all they wanted for their anniversary. They’d traveled every state and hiked so many trails together. They just wanted to go back to the beginning. The old amusement park.

We brought them to the litter strewn vacant lot. We’d heard the story so many times. The Tunnel of Love where the boat rocked in dark water, pulled forward by chains. Their first kiss.

They saw the rusted turnstile; ride long gone. And as is if we weren’t there, embraced. Their kiss, strong, passionate and deep. We blushed. Our father and mother, a man and woman at their core.

amy-reese

Word Count: 100   Photo Credit: Amy Reese. Written for Friday Fictioneers, so deftly organized by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

 

 

Sunday’s Invitation

lillian6 Comments

Come meander with me,
a moon walk among scattered dreams
to explore the tantalizing.

Choose the light and join hands.
This shadow of mine shall disappear
as we climb out from the depths.

Secrets one and two shall be no more,
and we shall discover all we need
in that open space created by shared souls.

Our desires shall blend, one upon the other
like rose petals cling to their bursting bud
in the midst of a slow delightful rain song.

And we shall be two as one,
ready for Monday’s promise
this feeling, this exhilaration,
this passion called Love.

rose-bud-1306629

Motivated by Quickly’s Winter Doldrums: Create a list of titles – then be creative with them.  Sunday’s Invitation includes titles from some of my very first poems (started writing poetry in February 2015) and are some of my very early posts (started site in March 2015). Meander, Moonwalk, Scattered Dreams, Tantalizing, Choose the Light, Shadow of Mine, From the Depths, Secrets One and Two, All We Need, Rain Song, Monday’s Promise.