Posted in Poetry

Dangerous Questions

Is it her scar that you love
or her?

Your therapist’s question
gnaws at you
like you gnaw at that knob
on the inside of your cheek
that you love and
so painfully cultivate

I hate it when he asks questions like that.
He’s usually right.

Why do you love her scar?

Because it keeps her from being
something perfect

Because if she is imperfect
then it makes my scars


Dangerous questions —
the gnaw
on the inside
of your being
that you
so painfully cultivate

Knowing the truth
of your answers
you rush west
when she
flees east,
you sally north
when she souths,
parlay when she folds

Lovest thou me?
Lovest thou my imperfection?
Lovest that it legalizes thine?


© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Day 21 / She & He #19

Posted in Poetry

She Speaks

With recognition to time spent in and around the theater, I don’t find it especially difficult to get into the mind and the voice of a character. As many of you know, I have been writing a series of narrative poems during April.  It was not a conscious choice; it just happened. I have jokingly said that these two characters have chained me to my laptop in the basement and bid me write their story. By the way, I call these two “She & He” backstage. Many of the poems have been prompted by NaPoWriMo or Poetic Asides, but I am often a day or two behind on those excellent prompts.  Today I took a day off work, went to a favorite Euro Market, ate shrimp, drank wine and determined that I would write and post from both prompts. NaPo suggested Rebellious writing (which I love!) and Robert Brewer charged us with taking the last line of a recent poem and making that the first line for today. I went with the last line of Palette Knife, which I posted yesterday: “Was that what she felt?” wherein, He is wondering about the scar that She has running from her lips.  In true rebellious spirit, She took pen in hand, breaking every rule of poetry, and actually addresses both you, the reader, and I, the writer.  Here is the outcome: (p.s. I must say, I was rather stunned by what was written here.)

She Speaks

“Was this what she felt?”  

How does he know what I feel?
How do you, Jilly-the-Poet 
     Or you, blog readers?

For the last eighteen days
you all have been focused on Him-
the ‘You’ of these poems,
gossiping about my scar,
as if I’m not even here!

Which of you has had a razor blade
taken to your face
at the hand of one who has promised
to love you, to treasure you, to
raise you as their own?

Would you have ducked as efficiently as
I did at thirteen?

“Was this what she felt?”

“Was this what she fucking felt?!”

In one respect you’re right.
You don’t feel it until you taste the blood.
Then you feel it every day
Every minute
Every second.

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Day 20 / She & He #18


Posted in Poetry


Draining the ink
from your story
she makes
everything new.

Polyps bubble
on your face,
your hands
bursting open
as desert flowers
in blinding oranges
and strangling yellows.

You come forth
running with the sun
held above your head.
You are Ra.

              Great Ra.   
                                Mighty Ra.

Your heart will not stand as
a witness against you.


© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

And still these two characters bid me write their story during the month of April.  This is Day 13.  A nod to Poetic Asides for the prompt and a nod to my pillow for being too tired to go post this there.  🙂  Happy Friday, Y’all!

She & He #9

Posted in Poetry

Battle Wounds

Battle worn
and weary
you let her board.

She flinched
and flew
and you —
Only You  —
three hours west
as she
the cloud barrier
and flew off
for the east,
the you-less east.

What bloody stump
did she wrap
in an old T-shirt
and cradle, waving
off the sympathetic
looks of the flight crew?

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

I’m a bit off on writing prompts; this one is in response to one at Poetic Asides from a couple of days ago.  Today is Day 11 and the beat goes on with these two characters!

She & He #8

Posted in Poetry

Crushing Zinnias

The taste of her smile
The sound of her skin
The feel of her singing
and you are drunk again

Pour another glass of her
scent, crushing zinnias
into the white tablecloth staining it with
her persistent laugh.

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Day 7

Posting at Poetic Asides

She & He #5

Posted in Poetry

Case # 3,721

The red tail of the plane
catches the morning sun
Alan Parsons sings
“Where do we go from here?”

You pull your collar
tight against
the memory of her
that little scar
running from her
scar tissue forming
itching in the marrow
of your bones
a rash out of reach
of Benadryl

You vowed not to watch
that plane
but your eye is
pulled upward only
to see clouds that look
like another April

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Posting on Poetic Asides 

Day 4

She & He #2

Posted in Poetry

Another Crash-Test Dummy

Another crash-test dummy
would have made the team,
waxing and waning through
last week’s boyfriend tryouts
and first chair band challenges,
but what’s a girl to do
when all of her
secrets have been published
on snapchat, which
is almost as good as
the bathroom doors of the old
and crumbling use-ta-be’s?

©  Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

For Poetic Asides

Posted in Poetry

Listening For a New Day

Packing the car, the borrowed
thimble-sized camper,
we journeyed each new
July to Ely Lake where anger
was displaced, hacking limbs
for the nightly bonfire
and spreading too-hard
butter on slices of Wonder
Bread, too delicate
for such realities not
to tear.

I followed
the Blue Trail on my purple
Spider bike, pedaling
around the lake
seven, eight times,
hearing the voices
of the pines.


© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

Posting for Poetic Asides PAD Challenge Day 1

Posted in Casting Bricks Collaborative Poetry, Poetry

On the Cusp of November

Every year on the 14th of February, Dad would buy a large heart-shaped box of assorted chocolate candy for Mom.  He would also buy a smaller version each for my brother and me.  I remember how Mom would use her thumb to find the vanilla crèmes and rule out the chewy caramels, rendering her box unappealing to everyone else.  Clever woman!

Like April, poets undertake the challenge of November to be writing daily.  For the most part, I do write daily throughout the year, but intentionality is an energizing delight.  There are multiple places for a poet to find inspiration and a few extra ones during this coming month and I intend to press a thumb into the various sources to find the dark chocolate mocha (my personal favorite) of inspiration and then write and post here at Jilly’s.  Here is a list of some of the places I will be sampling.  I hope you will all find your favorites and celebrate the deliciousness of poetry in November!


  • Jilly’s November Challenge of Casting Bricks to Attract Jade (Posting on Friday, 11/3) A perma-link will be on my sidebar, as usual. Everyone is welcome!
  • Jane Dougherty meets W.B. Yeats with daily quotes from her favorite poet.
  • Poetic Asides; Robert Lee Brewer’s PAD Chapbook Challenge
  • Weekly Haikai challenges from Frank J. Tassone (every Saturday)
  • dVerse, of course, with the usual line-up of great prompts on Monday, Tuesday & Thursdays.


~Cheers!  Jilly