Posted in Poetry

Pressed

she stood at the dance

edging the wall

hating them all

watching the rare common girls

flipping their hair

pretending not to notice them stare

those boys standing near

who were playing for fear

games of choice and derision

like paper, rock, scissor, decision.

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Join us at dVerse Poet’s Pub for a bit of Quadrille word play.  It rocks!

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Posted in Poetry

Embrace

Diminishing day

Exhales green gold sigh

gives over to the charms

of night’s carnal arms

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

For Jane Doughtery’s  A Month with Yeats – Day 17:

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,’ —W.B. Yeats

Posted in Poetry

Sandburg Home

In the evenings we sit on the back porch and listen
to the semis carrying Christmas toys
that will be trundled into a closet and buried
beneath that one unmatched sock and a torn
Pink Floyd T-shirt that was cool last year.

We hear the Puerto Rican street racers
in their matchbox Civics winding out gears
always shifting and dying too soon, too soon

We watch planes on their wide circling
loops of approach; gorged stars that twinkle
red, white, red, white —
no jazz in their rhythm at all.

We see the orange glow of the city
a dreamsicle sky that never melts,
only keeps the constellations behind
Cassiopeia hidden in the haze.

And we think about Sandburg’s
house in North Carolina,
the sweep of the long grass away
from the porch, into that silent
hollow, where small white
wildflowers clot the land
and one early cricket
bleats, bleats, bleats
from under a dogwood tree.

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Day 15 November Poem-A-Day personal challenge

 

Posted in Poetry

Dead Bug Skeletons

A poem of longing for Day 14 of November

Closed up in here

No dirt, no grass

Just man-made walls

And dirty lights with

Dead bug skeletons

Decaying slowly.

(It even kills them.)

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Posted in Poetry

Grit (an Ode)

Oh! Glorious, that tiny speck of sand
as a boulder found within my shoe
picked up along the sidewalk unplanned
brought my wandering thoughts back anew

For as I strode that silver slip of path
my thoughts had drifted toward a darker bent—
fretful, fearful images, destruction, unspent wrath—
anguish and despair were freely given vent.

The sting upon my heel felt most keen,
I paused and leaned upon a light post there
and emptying that bit of ancient shell, a scene
fell within my gaze, I stopped to stare.

The image of those devious waves that rumble
and travel whelk and cockles ‘cross the shores,
what have I about to grumble
when that bright shard connects my heel with yours?

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Frank has us writing Odes at dVerse tonight.  Join us!

Posted in Poetry

Institutionalized (with a Poet’s Soul)

26 carefullyarrangeddesks

1 teacherdesk

1 smartscreenthat nearlycoversall writable boardspace

1 commonsetof boardconfiguration magnets

so I will know what things to write each day
sothat whenan administrator
comesinwith
their
schooldistrictissued
I-padtoobserve my

unique

teaching style theycan
see-at-a-glance that
I have been assimilated
into
TheCollective
so I cangetmyextra
thousandthatwillbetaxedtothepoint
whereIneeda microscope fromthe
Chemistryteacher
toseemyportion
andkeeponbeing
an

Innovatingteacher

to my150studentswho
are savvy enough to roll their eyes
at the BeauracracyInPlace
and go on planning their careers
thatNeverInclude
degrees in education

On the event of having to remove 2 easy chairs from my classroom because they violate the fire code which was the same fire code last year when the chairs were okay.

© Jilly’s Rant – All Rights Reserved

Posted in Poetry

Reach

Don’t reach for the stars
it will only give you a bad shoulder
that aches in the night
when you have slept
too long on one side.

Turn, instead,
your hands and thrust
them into your tender,
unprotected chest cavity,
carefully separating
the sinews, working
your way between
the seventh and eighth ribs.

There.  It is just there
that your fingers first accost
the upper edges of digestion
where you are still slowly working
out how to grapple
with that chunk of regret
from 1992.

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

A few days ago, Charley over at Life in Portofino published a poem entitled A Matter of Love, in which he gave his unique spin on defining the word ‘Reach.’  It sparked something for my muse and Charley was good enough to allow me to borrow his word for the title and topic of this poem for Day 6 of my personal Poem-A-Day challenge.