Posted in Poetry

Murmuration

raising the fists of his angry politik
his angry hands
that Christmas Day
in one instant a swirling murmuration
of unsaid I’m sorrys
       in clusters of silent sevens
entered the windows, the doors,
funnelled about the room
orphaning her for once and for all.

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

A Quadrille using the word ‘murmur’ for dVerse Poet’s Pub.

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Posted in Poetry

Sycamore

Ars longa, Vita Brevis!

Art is long, life is short!

Vita Brevis, The New Poetry Magazine has published Sycamore, a previously unpublished poem of mine!  Look for it in today’s edition of this successful new Literary Magazine and while you are there, browse around at the gallery of classic artwork and the new poetry of some very gifted writers. For the first time on my blog, here is

Sycamore

We come to the place
we call Silent
to forget the sound
of cars on the highway
setting up our camp chairs
with an eye toward
the water
where a heron fishes
squirrels tatter over territory

The wide hand of a sycamore leaf
drops from the tree
lands at my feet.
Its scent lingers
summer’s green spills
on my hands
as I peel the flesh
along the veins, pouring
its dust onto the breeze.
Only the thin bone
of a stem remains.

A new breeze gallops
before the cold front, rustles through
Silent —
a frantic four or five fallen
leaves mount the wind,
crossing the grass.
They gather at my feet
expecting.

© Jill Lyman (Jilly’s)

Published by Vita Brevis, The New Poetry Magazine, January 18, 2018

 

Posted in Poetry

The Snake’s Keening (A Response Poem)

I am guest-hosting Meeting the Bar at dVerse Poet’s Pub.  I challenge my fellow poets to write response poetry.  (See Marlowe and Ralegh’s poems for examples.)  I have written a response in the voice of the snake to Denise Levertov’s poem, To the Snake.  Her poem follows below.

The Snake’s Keening

Bright Girl, when you plucked me from
the grass and round your neck I hung
felt your seering warmth
and whispered in your ear the secrets
of a serpent’s curse
the weight of sin and shame I bare
wounded in your ears —

Bright Girl — I swore to my scaled children that certainly
you were sinless! But truly
I had no hope of ever passing your heel, only desire
and be held by you, for that thrill,
which bereft
of guilt, as the grass closed
behind me, and you with that dark
assurance in your eyes,
I shall never share.

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

To the Snake
by Denise Levertov

Green Snake, when I hung you round my neck
and stroked your cold, pulsing throat
as you hissed to me, glinting
arrowy gold scales, and I felt
the weight of you on my shoulders,
and the whispering silver of your dryness
sounded close at my ears —

Green Snake–I swore to my companions that certainly
you were harmless! But truly
I had no certainty, and no hope, only desiring
to hold you, for that joy,
which left
a long wake of pleasure, as the leaves moved
and you faded into the pattern
of grass and shadows, and I returned
smiling and haunted, to a dark morning.

To the Snake, by Denise Levertov
Poetry Foundation, October 1958

Posted in Poetry

It’s Only a Syndrome to Peter Pan

Jacks on the kitchen floor
Mom had the advantage
she could do the splits
I could only try

Casting aluminum stars
silver, purple, red, green
Tossing the red ball

Snatch!

Over the fence!

Double-bounce!

She
ever a child
lesson learned
never drop a star

© Jilly & Silly Jilly  All Rights Reserved

A Quadrille for dVerse where De has us bouncing into a fresh week of poetry!

Posted in Poetry

The Neglected Lives of Poets

Forgetting breakfast for tea and last night’s scrawled
lines over wine and a midnight muse,
we finally break eggs, butter toast, call it brunch.
The pan, long-cooled, ignored on the stove —
coffee is poured, the landscaper’s bill
pushed behind the sugar bowl —
a laundry marathon spins out at the top of the stair,
wringing thread-bare towels of their last hope.

We are picking peaches with Li-Young Lee

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

 

Two poems by Li-Young Lee: The Weight of Sweetness and From Blossoms

 

Posted in Poetry

White Noise

white noise

seals the  leaks

around my windows —

my doors —

exposing every corner

to the scrutiny

of a child’s

freckled stare.

 

You see me –

 

too plainly…

 

TOO PLAINLY

Snatched from innocence and other casualties of life, what penetrating eyes do not

s            e             e

 

 

© Poem & Sound Cloud by Jilly  All Rights Reserved

We are exploring silence in poetry at dVerse.  Join us!

Posted in Casting Bricks Collaborative Poetry

Turning – An Artist’s Challenge

Completing Petru’s Challenge poem for December Casting Bricks (collaborative poetry) proved to be an immense delight! A deep fog set in this morning and this little dance ensued.  Her words are in bold (half a quadrille) and my 22 follow. The title is in honor of the very fine artist who presented the challenge.  Please stop by Petru’s beautiful site and browse around.  Anyone who would care to join us at Casting Bricks to Attract Jade is heartily welcome!

 

Step! Two, three and again

step two! Now – turn around

and

voice receding –

centrifugal distant tracking

rhythm raises

drum      beat

light deepening

 

Skip! A beat syncopate

the rhythm — cabriole

one-eighty —

centripetally returning

to

the pound, pound, pounding

in your breast –

clasp            the dark

Tournant

Posted in Poetry

The Teacher Groove

five a.m. feet hit the floor
jazz is playin’
dog-walkin’
coffee drinkin’
face kissin’
out the door

seven a.m. kids at my door
Chaucer verse plyin’
sarcasm flyin’
student buy-in
bell is vyin’
our time is high an’
dry and they’re
out the door

all morning long
they’s readin’
they’s writin’
they’s commentin’
“This Pardoner dude
is a real duche bag”
Couldn’a said it better
mysef

full tilt groovin’
I is behoovin’
students improvin’
never stop movin’

three p.m. hittin’ the car
radio’s soundin’
homeward I’s cruisin’
front door is speakin’

and just like that it’s

zu

zu

zu

zu

zu

Game Over!

© Written & Spoken Words by Jilly  All Rights Reserved

Join us at dVerse where we are groovin!

Posted in Poetry

Tea & Company

Visited with the fading
moon last night.

She said,
“The morning after
is something of a let-down,
what with all the excitement
and blush
gone.”

Sighing, she reached for
her tea, adding,
“Nothing left to do,
I suppose, but become less
than I have been.”

I thought I saw a small
smile just before the cup
reached her lips.

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Lil encourages us to write a poem using the word ‘Visit’ for Poetics at dVerse.  Join us!