Jill Lapin-Zell
Beach Walkmoonlight painting
shiny silver beaches shadow footprints speak our path as we walk along the shore arms around each other, heads close together laughing with the wind telling secrets about the stars and naming the waves as they break gently on the sand barefoot tidal mambo surf lapping at our toes sand sliding back to the sea grain after grain, magically drawn like a lover going home and we stop to honor the journey holding our intention to be as strong and our love as vital and rhythmic as the tide You and Springthe sun will rise once more tomorrow
slowly nibbling at the cold night sky until red and orange flames consume it for breakfast like an egg over easy the vernal equinox will herald the arrival of a brand new spring it is a time of renewal and the moment to plant the seeds of a fertile and abundant future you stand in the middle of those glorious tomorrows radiant and alive your smile fueling my days as never before and gypsy passion painting my nights with broad strokes of conscious loving that ignite my soul and call forth the magic that is our coming together Tailored Touch
Rip my stitches out
Pull with all your might I won’t be mended I won’t be altered I won’t be tailored To suit your needs I’m a custom-made garment So toss aside my mannequin heart And measure out your love So that it’s a perfect fit for me Lasting ImpressionsYou made an impression
With your shining smile And incandescent eyes Your simple equanimity And strong, broad shoulders You made an impression With rampant curiosity In the funkiest of places Full tilt boogie attitude And your arm around my waist You made an impression With a sweet warm kiss And hugs from way down deep Studded jean jacket And beat up old cowboy boots You made an impression On a windy Philadelphia street corner In a Dunkin Donuts at 4 a.m. With cups of warm steamy love And lingering gazes You made an impression Sweet memories in place Left a wisp of future dreams Yet to be realized On the Menu
gnawing hunger leads me to your
table where I hope to find delectable treats served fresh daily so I’ll place my order but your take-out offerings are all I can get because I’ve arrived too late to have a sit-down repast couldn’t even get service with a smile so here’s my tip… I’ll probably dine elsewhere and find a corner booth that allows me to sit side-by-side with my short-order dreams Too Much Room
i am younger than really old houses
with decrepit shutters shutting out the winds of romance--- a mansion of youth with so many unopened doors i need you to be the key unlock me. no one's really lived here in a very long time. Comments?
|
November Cold FrontFirst snow of the season
snuck in last night and painted the day as temperatures dropped like an anvil from an office building rooftop boots, ski parka, gloves and hat ice scraper scratching windows defroster breathing heat and loosening sheets of frost to slide off my windshield melting its way down to wiper blades winter’s snide and crooked smile challenging my strength and fortitude as another year’s end game begins in earnest and darkness arrives by late afternoon my personal thermostat insulted by the need for layer upon layer of warmies just for the pleasure of going out to begin the adventure of starting the car and driving the tango of tires on icy streets fear not being the fun it was when I was young and invincible laughing down mortality’s abyss proudly skating the edges for giggles, rushes and grins and it might be nice to live without winter Droned to Death
incessantly trudging
wordlessly enduring tearless cries of mechanized man once upon this manufactured life somewhere back in time we sparkled with verve took drinks from enthusiasm’s waters and ate from animation’s plate while we grew our spirit in gumption’s forest stolen moments from those times are all that remain just long enough to remind us that passion is not produced on an assembly line and love does not march in automation’s parade Spring Redux
let my grief mulch the gnarled roots
from which it grew and make a whiter blossom which will forge a bloodier berry for the sparrow and the jay Tea Time
Dark amber tea in a glass,
neither half full nor half empty, He smiles, raises the column to his lips, holding the thick base in slim fingers. He sips like a wine taster, drawing breath over the tea’s shoulder, sucking Constant Comment through his teeth, almost imperceptibly nibbling each sip, invisibly swallowing. His head tips back, the tumbler bottom a Cyclops' monocle. He lowers the empty glass to the warped wooden table, micro-maneuvering the base into the dark, dry ring. It knows where it belongs. It just doesn’t know where it is. He kisses his white napkin, as if it were a prayer shawl smiles enigmatically, and murmurs, Chew one hundred times, Write one hundred prayers. A Fundamental Questionthe afternoon’s turned cool and gray
with cloud shadows and spring breezes oozing over the mountains like sweet honey from an over-filled jar and I’m wondering why we aren’t curled up with each other on a sofa legs entwined and heads together like children whispering outlandish secrets giggling the remaining day into night I want to reach out and touch you breathe in the scent of your hair feel the rhythm of your heartbeat as my lips rest against your temple these aching moments of missing you eat away at body, mind and spirit give rise to the fundamental question: can you come over to play tonight?
|
