Poem 18

Lily on a Lake

The essence of purity,

flawlessly smooth like the cheeks of a porcelain doll.

The peak of perfection,

caressed delicately by white-gloved hands,

placed gently on nature’s pool of life;

Ripples of pleasure extend from their touch

as sunlight illuminates their true colors.

White fragile petals, like clouds across the sky,

float weightless atop the mysterious, flowing, iridescent liquid,

whose dark surface camouflages the secrets hidden beneath.

Inseparable, the dark holding the light

drift in silence

into the distant future.


~ Lillian B.

Until we meet again!…


Poem 17

Soul Eternal

You lay there.



Rigid as cement,

cold as steel.



“Breathe into me!”, you scream, “I can’t feel you!”

But I can’t hear you;

For you are human;

And I am immortal.


Without life you are dead.

With death I am alive.


~ Lillian B

Until we meet again!…

Poem 16

Rusty Hand Saw

You metal shark!

bowed like the rising sun;

with warped shards – your jagged teeth;

left outside as a chained-up dog, discarded after playtime;

tattooed by raindrops;

you shed and flake your copper-colored skin;

thirsting for nourishment, yearning to be quenched;

abandoned among other shed tools;

a faithful partner, awaiting your next job.


~ Lillian B.

Until we meet again!…

Poem 15


White assassins crouch on the rooftop.

Their diamond daggers,

with perfectly pointed tips

ready to attack,

hang from the gutter.

Tigers targeting their prey down below;

teeth transparent as glass,

sly as a fox,

dripping in sunlight rays;

stealthily growing

under the cover of night,

getting closer–


and closer–






They are slain by a house broom.



~ Lillian B.

Until we meet again!…

Poem 14

Family Tree

A child,

head held close to breast,

embraced by its mother,

stares at

a pair of converse,

faded from long days of running down streets in summer sunlight;

brother’s favorite.


The worn, wrinkled wallet of a hardworking, underpaid man,

from which bills and groceries were paid;

that was father’s duty–

to provide.


Soft knit scarves,

waiting for frozen faces to bundle up,

rest quietly

just as Nana did

when she made them;

carefully crafted with love.


Mother’s rolling-pin,

used for morning meals and potluck dinners,

passed down from relatives,

whose photos are tucked in the blue floral box,

under the hall tree.


As a child,

head held close to breast,

is embraced by its mother.


~ Lillian B.

Until we meet again!…

Poem 13

Feeling Calm

A cool breeze

flowing across a meadow

on a summer’s day.

Not a care in the world,

as I lay motionless,

like the ocean at bedtime.

Perhaps it is a flowing stream,

or the gentle greeting of wooden chimes

in the spring time.

Like the warmth of mother’s hug.

I sigh.


~ Lillian B.

Until we meet again!…

Poem 12

Spring is –

Seeing the face of a long-lost friend, alive and well;

The joyous cries of a newborn, waving to the world;

A phoenix, rising from the ashes of winter;


Restoring rain;

Whispering wind;

Lilies in a field.


Life. Renewal. Rebirth.


~ Lillian B.

Until we meet again!…