Posted in Poetry

Racing Toward September

Summers
We would wield
A dull butcher knife
Slicing against the grain
Of green on green rind
Cutting in two
Like twin halves of a broken
Heart, red with seeds spilling
Black and shiny
And smaller
White alewives
Onto the kitchen counter
Spiriting off with large slices
And a salt shaker to
The back porch sitting
On the edge of the pock-marked
Cement, spitting seeds
Into the grass
Sucking hard on the escaping
Juices and the illusiveness
Of those
Long northern days
That slipped away too
Fast, racing toward
September

© Jilly's
All Rights Reserved
Posted in Poetry

Dance the Moon

sA Solstice Villanelle


Dance the moon, twirl it in your naked arms,
wild beneath the dark, light your soul aflame,
rejoice the night, embrace her raging charms.

Weave among the trees of ancient farms,
cast off restraint and call the orchard’s name;
dance the moon, twirl it in your naked arms

Press deep the grapes and drink you of sauternes,
let morning care for all her waking shame,
rejoice the night, embrace her raging charms

The Fury’s night runs heedless of alarms,
the solstice reel is savage, shan’t be tamed,
dance the moon, twirl it in your naked arms.

Let frenzy pour a cup your heart to warm,
spark high your heels to join you in this game,
rejoice the night, embrace her raging charms

Rush full at Sol’s bright apex to disarm,
give back to Pan the rave that is his fame,
dance the moon, twirl it in your naked arms,
rejoice the night, embrace her raging charms.


© Jilly's Words & Photo
All Rights Reserved

Join us at dVerse where we write villanelles today!
Posted in Poetry

Signs of

Over at dVerse we are writing about signs. Orlando recently turned a corner in healing as a year has now gone by since the horrific event at The Pulse Nightclub.  While I drive past the location often, it is usually with averted eyes lest the pain enter and overwhelm me.  Today, in light of this prompt, I stopped and got out for a few moments with my camera.  The pictures and the words speak for themselves.  ~Jilly

 

Signs of

grief
hatred
death
brokenness

humanness

strength

resilience

questions
answers

Are we more
broken than before?

People have ever fainted with fear
at the roaring of the waves

 

© Photos & Poem by Jilly

All Rights Reserved

Posted in Photos, Poetry

Conquest (An Affair)

Walk
(No, run)
straight into that freight train
that is your fear
embracing it full
wrestling it to the ground with
lustful wildness
until it is subdued
until it is your own
do not release it
lest it run from you
returning tamed
unpeppered


© Photo & Poem by Jilly
All rights reserved

We are writing Quadrilles over at dVerse.  Join us!
Posted in Photos, Poetry

Morning Dialogue with Self

Rise early with the descending fog
pour a cup of regret
discussing yesterday with yourself
while your hopes for love cleave to the shelf.

Whose hands are these, wringing lest they forget
holding, leveling charges against thyself
pointing fingers of creeping blame
grasping, fearing you’ll do the same

thing again with the rising of the sun’s bitter wealth?
streaming, even now, through the fettered window pane
Oh, foolish, foolish child am I
to think that I could change, decry

the pointing fingers of creeping blame
discussing yesterday with yourself.
Set the needle back, play that song and fret
another rising sun, another dialogue.

© Photo & Poem by Jilly
All Rights Reserved

B3elle Poetic Form
Thanks to Charley at Life in Portofino for this form!

It's Open Link Night over at dVerse and I find myself working 
in a poetic voice that is not my own, lest anyone think
this reflects Jilly in any way. Just working with form and
mood :)
Posted in Poetry

Passion

On Thursday we added a Passion Flower to our garden – my favorite among plants.  She has submitted to countless photos, a Six-Word Saturday and now, this.  Tonight we are writing Haibuns over at dVerse and Bjorn challenges us to write about the theme of Sport.  Please join us!

Tightly coiled sinews, muscles grumbling, demanding the tap, turned to almost skin-reddening hot, loosens, cajoles, body-sighing curative from a knotted night, giving way to those oldest of friends; Leotard, Mat, Jungle Music; growlingly good salute to the sun that warms to a warrior reaching for that wrung just above my highest leaf, tendril-finger pointing trellis ward, buds opening to the dazzle of the sun, drinking rain, embracing another day of peace. Namaste.

Solitary stretch

competing with none, yoga

Passion Flower strong
IMG_1795

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Photo & Words by Jilly