togetherness – Page 4 – lillian the home poet

It is a wicked time.
Pride and prejudice run amok
fueled by devices and desires.
Politicians play the confidence game,
endangered values center stage.

The dreams from my father
seem so very long ago.
Sunday drives in the family car,
unlocked doors, porches with swings.
That used to be us.

Today I watch appalled.
Certain trumpets spew vitriolic words.
In cold blood stories litter newsprint pages,
stained red in televised image
too often unseen by too many.

Let us pray for a still life
with bread crumbs for everyone,
hope we are not racing a timeline
to the end of [y]our life book club.
Amen.

books

Created from book titles found on a Chicago book shelf: Wicked by Gregory Maguire, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Devices and Desires by P.D. James, Confidence Game by Christine S. Richard, Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama, That Used To Be Us by Thomas Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum, Certain Trumpets by Garry Wills, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, Still Life With Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen, Timeline by Michael Crichton, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe.

Seth and June

November 25, 2015January 2, 2016lillian43 Comments

He lived in the pink house, she in the white. They grew up together laughing, climbing the hillside, riding the school bus. No one was surprised when he proposed. It was quietly assumed. Seth and June.

Just days after the wedding, his unit was called. She wept and he promised to return.

Eight months of living with her folks. Skyping when possible, through static and frozen image. And now she sat, secret intact. Large belly pressed against the pane, a new life about to enter theirs. She waited for him to round the bend. Promise fulfilled and multiplied by two.

sandra

100 words. Photo Credit: Sandra Crook — basis for this week’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge by Rochelle Wisoff.

Sleep Sounds

November 25, 2015lillian2 Comments

soft puffs of air
you beside me
exhale, exhale
night quiet sounds
I smile, loving you
eyes close shut
lullaby of puffs

This World or the Next

November 8, 2015lillian12 Comments

Memories shimmer
stretched taut
like a spider’s web.
Tubes, wires,
stainless steel
monitors with beating blips.

You lay there in that present space
but somewhere far away.
Then, like a marionette
whose master dropped a string,
your eyes jolted open
and you returned to me.

No photo. Thankful for every day.

…and the Blind Shall See

October 9, 2015October 9, 2015lillian20 Comments

Her face, my map, my guide
in this moment of charged silence.

I touch her eyes, feel cool wet lashes
sensation on my fingertips
questions in my heart.

Fingers move quickly to dampened cheeks
trace rivulets of silent tears.
Drops of fear or rejection or what?

Her lips purse together gently
in a bird-peck kiss upon my palm
press deeper, part slightly in a moan.

She leans in and I read her yes
hands grasp mine as we enter
this divine communion called love.

Thank you, God
for this gift of touch
for this woman who lies with me.

For joyful tears, now mine
from sightless orbs that see.
She loves me as I am.

Motivated by WP Writing 201 prompts: map, ode, metaphor

Life Regifted

October 6, 2015October 6, 2015lillian20 Comments

Angels here among us
dearest, stay with me.
Over and back you hover
return to earth my plea.
Extinguish not, like inifinity
deny death’s call and stay with me.

This poem, dedicated to the love of my life. Life regifted for two years and many more: you came back to me. Thankful for every day. This poem is an acrostic: the first letter of each line spells out a message (Adored). Photo from on board ship on a Panama Canal cruise.