Posted in 28 Days of Unreason, Poetry


words a-droppin’
don’t trip over
tongues a-hoppin’
clip-clop down
the sunny street
to tipsy-flirt
and dish it up
freshly tilled
piles O’dirt

Never fear
be slaves of
your ears won’t scorch
o’er the tittle-tettle

do ’em in
go ahead,
‘taint-no sin

© Jill & Silly Jilly  All Rights Reserved

Doing Double-Dutch jumping here today by writing a Quadrille for dVerse that uses the word ‘Cobble’ and also working from the Day 4 of 28 Days of Unreason. I felt like it was a good time to write a Silly Jilly; it’s been awhile.  🙂 

I am hosting the 28 Days of Unreason for the 3rd year in which we write poetry in response to selected lines from poet, Jim Harrison.  Everyone is welcome to jump in!  Today’s line is, “Fear makes for good servants and bravery is fraudulent”  from Vows.

Posted in Poetry

he loved a linear girl

he loved a linear girl
               unswerving in his gape-jawed puppy love
so easy to be stunned
               like tasering him with one look
in his stream of consciousness
               falling, fleeing those cliché arrows, aimed
by her apparatus of love
               to land just short of his path
to trudge through
               a flock of poison dart frogs singing with glee
for his one life
               the almosts and wish-it-were-so’s
those mean summer
               nightly chorus’s of want and yearning of
dreams playing music
                once more throttling back into his arms
of want and yearn
               intermittently broken and repaired


© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Paul over at dVerse challenges us to write this wonderfully musical form.  Join us and give Contrapuntal Poetry a try!

Posted in Poetry

A Prayer for Rain

stop the bitter sun
it only sours the sky

petition the rain to beat
your skin until you swim

in forest smells of algae
of living mold

urge your lake
to worship the sea

to milk time after
you lie bare at her feet

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Kim at dVerse bids us write a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words) using the word “Rain.”  Here in Florida we should be at the end of our Dry Season, a time we refer to as our Fire Season.  Instead we are in a prolonged time of rain thanks to an unstable weather pattern that brings tropical moisture both day and night.  There are no fires, including that rather large one that dominates the sky from dawn to dusk.  😉


Posted in Poetry

Stops and Starts

Funny the things that come to you
in the night, he said after a moment.

Your eyes, accustomed to that dark,
see his silhouette
against the distant
city light
all orange and skin.
He takes a drink
of the wine, turns
holds it out to you.
What poison
What apothecary

You are not back-lit
He won’t see your hand
as you drink.


© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved


for dVerse Meeting the Bar where Amaya has us building bridges and filling gaps.

The Challenge:  Use a line from one book as your starting line and a line from another as your poem’s end-line.

I chose to use a line from my most recent read, A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (highly recommend it!!) as my opener, but I edited it slightly.
“It is funny what comes to one at night, he said after a moment.”  Pg. 289

My end-line was taken from my next book, The Longest Road, by Philip Caputo“Letsgobackandstartover” Pg. 185 (yes, it is all run together like that!)


Posted in Poetry

Running Wild

take my hand
     walk with me
          through these corridors
where numbered

slide past us
in dull tones
of blue and beige
of grey and sage

hold tight my hand
     run with me
          through these hallways

until the flat surfaces
begin to blur

the doors become
ears of corn
the tiles
roll into clods
of dirt
the fluorescent lights
turn into the moon
they were
meant to be

we run
the fields
wet leaves
slap us
cool faces
we laugh


© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved


Join me tonight at dVerse Poet’s Pub where I am hosting Poetics and we will be writing Wild.  !!!

Posted in Poetry


she sat on the sidewalk
near your front door
gathering up the fallen
white petals of Impatiens
that grow there

sheltering them in her
hand, you lit them on fire

ignoring your tears
she slept beside you
with her shoes on

she didn’t burn


© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Day 23

Lillian is hosting at dVerse where we are gathering our thoughts and words, 44 of them, to be exact; writing quadrilles.  Join us!

She & He #21

Posted in Poetry


What blue brings you to this place

where she is cobalted to the walls of your house

and you are azured into thinking that she

won’t loiter long enough to know

all the hues of you?

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Join us over at dVerse Poet’s Pub where Sarah introduces us to the artwork of Fay Collins.

She & He #14

Posted in Poetry

The Art: What Do You See?

from Red
a Play by John Logan

ROTHKO.    What do you see? (Ken is about to respond—) Wait. Stand closer. You’ve got to get close. Let it pulsate. let it work on you. Closer. Too close. There. Let it spread out. Let it wrap its arms around you; let it embrace you, filling even your peripheral vision so nothing else exists or has ever existed or will ever exist. Let the picture do its work— but                        work with it. Meet it halfway for God’s sake! Lean forward, lean into it. engage with it! … Now, what do you see? — Wait, wait, wait! (He hurries and lowers the lighting a bit, then returns to Ken.) so, now, what do you see? — Be specific. No, be exact. Be exact — but sensitive. You understand? Be kind. Be a human being, that’s all I can say. Be a human being for once in your life! These pictures deserve compassion and they live or die in the eye of the sensitive viewer, they                 quicken only if the empathetic viewer will let them. That is what they cry out for. That is why they were created. That is what they deserve . . . Now . . What do you see? (Beat.)


The crux, the very kernel of poetry is the enigma of the inspiration
that mysterious thing we call our Muse
that grabs us by the shirt collar
demands we notate
transcribe these seeds
these words
We Write
these words
germinate these seeds
note the demands
refuse to launder the grimy shirt collar
out of superstition or deference to this thing we call our Muse
we die of hunger if we deny the enigma of the inspiration, the crux.

Word Play
the words play us
the rules break us, define us
we learn them just to break them
stretch the limits, Jabberwocky our world
we are the artist, broken by our own
screaming, wild,  feral selves
let the crazy child within
take control
It shrieks

“Write poems that are not easy!
Great poetry should require hard work by the poet;
hard work by the interpreter!”


© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

for Meeting the Bar at dVerse where Paul challenges us to consider our philosophy of poetry and to craft our own Ars Poetica.

Posted in Poetry

City Renew

City, City, Body City, renew
my dry rustic soul, you rhythm maker,
where I roam, muttering your avenue’s

songs, night birds singing ‘til morning’s breakthrough.
Warbling, drumming, a cadence pacemaker
City, City, Body City, renews.

This quench of your warm wind is overdue;
set ‘em up barkeep, be my sin taker,
where I’m home, muddling your avenues.

With empty hands you mix a homemade brew
of brandied cherries in sky-scraped shaker
City, City, Body City, renewing.

Waves of lightning, finger this scabbed tattoo,
thunder of the streets, a cresting breaker,
where I’m home in puddling avenues

of fading ink, once called my mere undo;
O-Town’s arms are mine, I’ll not forsake her.
City, City, Body, City anew
—there I’m flown to your strange avenues.

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Join me tonight where I am hosting Poetics at dVerse Poet’s Pub.  We are applying a bit of ‘Urban Renewal’ to our writing by focusing on the theme of Cities, both large and small.

Posted in Poetry


when the trees buzzle their roots
into the soil
below the frost line

she is waiting for the bus
           struggling to zip her coat
                              juggling hot chocolate

you stop,
make a zipping motion
a question
an offer on your face
she smiles

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

It’s Quadrille time at dVerse!  De has charged us to include the word “Zip” in our poem of 44 words.  April has surprised me with a series of poems that are in the same voice (2nd person), telling a story of two people.  The saga began on Day 3 and continues.  I’ll ride this roller coaster until all of it has been shaken from my pockets and deposited on the ground.

Day 9

Pssst!  Join me tomorrow night – I’m hosting Poetics and we are going to paint this town!

She & He #7