"lillian" poems
Somehow it wasn’t right to cry
for someone who
no one knew—for years
though everyone knew about Lil
She was the crazy burden
of an orphaned family
whose memories rearrange the winter shadows
“Are we dressed right?
Are our faces adequately sad?”
They loved the skinny, happy kid
Loved—the ones who loved her
knew her from “The Old Neighborhood”
Two sisters approach the body
echoed in black and navy
holding each other’s hand
They look down at her—
They look her over
They overlook—“The Old Neighborhood”
of the Lillian they had hoped for—
took care of as a child....
And in the din of last respects
a comment from an older gentleman—
“The Goldrick girls were all such lookers”
So I was her niece
and not from “The Old Neighborhood”
I have memories of my own....
I was rich when Lil brought play money
from Misquamicut
She brought whelks and slipper shells too
My ear cupped close
I first heard the sea
Not as beautiful as I expected
nor as beautiful as I would know
She gave them with love—without telling
where and when that I would go....
Her hands were always cool and sweaty
Always trembling
Always a cigarette
and an argument in the background
From the height of three
and hugging knees
I see her face against the ceiling’s
white—with panic
Her eyes are never with me
I know someone is with her
“The Goldrick girls were all such lookers....”
Beleaguered beauty
Frail, with stiff grace
she glances sideways
Checking for my safety?
“Our names too close! Confused too often!”
I was to know her horror— as I know her sea
...Her laughter, too late for the conversation
a smoky hysteria
that will not share with her eyes
She stumbles backward through her childhood
as if she has mislaid something
She wants to go roller skating
with her sister, eight months pregnant
besieged by diapers
with stew on the back burner
...And Lil wants to go back...
to a time at the Rialto
to the organ’s boogie
to the edge—before
The Depression declared WAR—
on someone who
no one knew
for years!
And is it okay yet?
...to let her sea out of me!
It burns so!
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
*Gabriel,
have we not set sail upon this ship once before?
And did it not sink at the sight of a storm?*
**Lillian,
we built that ship in arms,
and when we sank,
we sank together.
Our wood was fragile and water torn,
but I've come baring steal.**
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
Buy me chrysanthemums
Not lavandula or geraniums
Or phalangium with their low hanging bulbs
Why don’t you know I love chrysanthemums!
Chrysanthemums, Dahlia…Hera…Willow?
Lillian! Lillian,
How could I take chrysanthemums from Lillian?
You should know. I shouldn’t have to say anything! You should know.
Buy me Viognier
Not Muscat or Chardonnay
Or Furmint with its corky taste
Why don’t you know I love Viognier!
Viognier, Vionnier…Vienne…Vienna?
Dalmatia! Dalmatia,
How could I take Viognier from Dalmatia?
You should know. I shouldn’t have to say anything! You should know.
Dalmatia, near Sibenik
From where I dine on scallops,
Or do you not know that I love scallops?
If not then you should know that I love fickle, false and fair
It’s my nature and you are my nurture
If you did not know then know this, love’s a hapless farce
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC
Lily, you grow delicately like the dreams in your undefiled mind,
internally defiant of your ambition to the people; kind, and graceful;
Loving all; Ivies and cattails envy you when you bloom lonely on single:
Lilypads, refusing to accept anything that you deserve. You must realize,
in time you deserve to be called by something so beautiful, and stop,
answering to everything but your full –
Name.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
Awe Evie you came here fighting. Pulling the oxygen out of your nose. Trying to get out of the incubator you were not having it little girl. You are such a doll baby with a beautiful face. I love your orange hair I can't wait to see what color it will turn out to be. You are named after me Ms. Evieana Lillian. I'm named after my grandmother which makes you the third. My grandmother had red hair she was biracial just like you. So it's so cute that you have her name orange hair and spunky attitude. I thank you for being strong enough to fight. Wonderful enough to love and a small bundle enough to hug and kiss on. You are my Lilly boo and I thank Jehovah that I got the chance to meet you❤.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
Her skin was warm and smooth, with her face burrowing into the arch of my shoulder. It felt nice… Almost like an actual home coming…
That thought made me open my eyes I hadn't noticed I’d closed. My cheek pressing into the crown of yellow-hair which smelled of sweet shampoo and something purely Lillian's. It was comforting… With my nose touching the crest of her head, I inhaled that unique scent. Like a freshly creased book, blowing on an oceans breeze.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
Penny
Nickel
Dime
It's 'pay up' time
But under my pillow
The next morning
A clipping of
Lillian Brown's household hints?
Apparently this guy pays
A whole lot more
For a perfect tooth
Than one in remarkable decay
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 3:01 PM UTC
My brow curly angel
my Lillian
with eyes that shine like
the first star in twilight.
My blond sweetheart
my Liam
with eyes that burn like
a sunrise on a winter day
They sit, with unseen bond,
and watch as lights flicker
and reflect on their eyes.
“Go! Diego Go!” Liam bounces.
Lillian’s lavish lashes fall, lackadaisical
she holds her doll and recites
“Mommy made me mash my M&Ms;”
Liam can feel the bond, weakened,
and teases her, lovingly,
“The lily-licking frog licked Lillian!”
she squeals and holds her doll tight
Frightened, he drives his sister out.
I smile, and hold them both,
Lillian’s escape postponed.
Liam falls into me,
but my angel,
she slips away
smiling
laughing
and then it hits.
Water trickles down my cheeks,
salty with defeat,
as we dress in black.
I have failed, my angel,
and I have lost you,
Forever.
I long for your Love
your Warm giggle
your Bright eyes.
My hope for happiness
is Shattered as you
fall
out of reach
and out of sight.
Why hadn't I insisted?
Why didn't I keep you safe?
Now my sweetheart is
lost, connection broken,
he watches his sister
disappear under Earth.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
Survivors
by Michael R. Burch
(for the victims and survivors of 9/11 and their families)
In truth, we do not feel the horror
of the survivors,
but what passes for horror:
a shiver of “empathy.”
We too are “survivors,”
if to survive is to snap back
from the sight of death
like a turtle retracting its neck.
Published by The HyperTexts, Gostinaya (Russia), Ulita (Russia), Promosaik(Germany), The Night Genre Project and Muddy Chevy; also turned into a YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong. Keywords: survivors, victims, families, 911, 9/11, terrorist, attack, terrorism, empathy, sympathy, truth, horror, death, survive, survival
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 1:20 AM UTC
I never got to hold you,
and I never saw your face.
I didn't even know you were
inside me, until it was much
too late. But darling never fear,
for I once heard it said, that
a love like what I have
for you, is never truly dead.
Sleep soundly my dear child,
wherever you may be. If there
is a heaven high above us, or
a nonexistent sea. I live my life quite
differently, ever since you left. I
like to think I'd make you proud my
love, if you followed in my steps.
For you see I'm training, so that
someday I'll be strong. Strong, and ready,
and proud, to hold someone, much
like you, in my arms.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 1:32 AM UTC
My buddy the quarterback said to go long
music to my ears the chorus of my song
I could easily outrun all the puny secondary –
the guys from one block over on wealthy Dewberry.
We were all better at football on Lillian Street
beating the crap out of those guys was oh so sweet.
Now mulling my interests, passions and such
I wonder why I love football so much
what with a life of writing, thinking and teaching
my football mania seems a tad overreaching
but still my arm flexes watching that heaver
connect in a perfect arch with his swift receiver.
Being Cajun in Texas where sports are king
probably explains something of why I’m so keen
and my pulse quickens as I remember
the neighbor boys’ shouts and calls in September
to meet them in our favorite autumn spot
down the street in that vacant lot.
Most of my life I’ve gone for short passes
connected with ideas and English classes
no novel for me, I fell for poetry
nor did I brave the rigor of a PhD.
Now finally, with my scores of years its not so wrong
to watch, leave it alone, wait a while, and go long.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
Look at yourself
Lauren.
Look what you have done.
Look how far you've
fallen.
Look how far you've
come.
Look at yourself
Lauren.
Tell them what you see.
A woman so strong now
broken.
A girl so independent now
weak.
LOOK AT YOURSELF
Lauren.
Don't act like you're fine.
With the way you are
slipping,
you can't afford to
lie.
Look at Dean
Lauren.
Look at Lillian too.
They never got a
chance,
but that's not because
of you.
Look inside you
Lauren.
Look at your heart.
You would of loved
them.
But you weren't ready
to start.
Look at yourself
Lauren.
You are so strong.
He said what he
said,
but you know that he's
wrong.
You love him
Lauren.
That won't go away.
And if he comes
back.
Can you face what you'd
say?
Tell the truth
Lauren.
Yes, you were crushed.
And to forgive him might
be weak.
But I guesss that's just
love.
Look at yourself.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:00 PM UTC
Remember that day you sat in your room?
silence was a comforting melody
Did he ever love me?
You dragged yourself over to your shelf, picked up a bottle of ***
Never mind a cup, the pain you were feeling couldn't be measured with a specific amount of alcohol entering your body
All you could remember is what you did on that bed together
You kissed
Made love to each other
Cried about lost dreams and made new ones together
*We will have 5 kids, Etzio is our son, Delilah, Charlotte, summer, and Lillian
We will have them workout with us
Accept them for what our parents didn't accept us for
Love them unconditionally
Love each other unconditionally
You will travel with me for my competitions and I will be sitting and supporting you in every case you will be talking in
I want to die in your arms and never live a day without telling you that I love you*
Now I'm drunk
You're gone
The memories are haunting me
I can't sleep
My dream catcher seems to be one of the lies I'm getting used to now
Your lies.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
We could have been smart with the plot from the start
Mistakes from the spark..
We knew it wasn't love
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Lillian its not that your mother didn’t love you, its just that she was still trying to figure out how to love herself.
Her arms could only reach so far, you just were never close enough.
Lillian its not that your mother didn’t have a heart, its just that some days it couldn’t keep up with the pace of her mind.
you could try shouting but she would never hear you over the voices speaking to her.
Lillian its not that your mother viewed you as worthless, its just that she couldn’t find worth in her self just yet.
How could she open her eyes for you when she thought there was nothing worth looking at.
Lillian its not that you deserved her anger, its just that she didn’t know how to treat something constant in her life when everyone kept on leaving.
She couldn’t come to terms with how someone could love her so unconditionally despite her demons.
Lillian its not that your mother regretted you, its just that no one has stuck around long enough to get past her walls.
she thinks that she’ll be left to clean up the rubble alone.
Lillian its not that your mother is a reflection of yourself, its just that she never had room to grow.
You are a big fish in a little pond like her, though you can break free.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Her fingers are good, she can sew, she can thread.
She has time on her hands, now that her husband is dead.
Lillian Weber is past ninety nine,
she’s on her last mission in a race against time.
She makes dresses for young girls that she’ll never meet;
colorful frocks for the African heat.
Her goal is one thousand dresses, so fine,
by the day that she’ll celebrate for the 100th time.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
... I feel jealous, in a way.
I feel like I have to get this off my
chest, even if it has been so blatantly obvious the ENTIRE time
I've known you... I've always liked you; more or less,
I've loved you, Jack.
I always admired you, and no matter how much
I try, I can never stop.
I feel like I'm just an eternally smoldering,
nearly put out ember;
I burn brighter on occasion,
but the rest, it's come to pass as a dull, aching pain in my chest.
I've tried to bury it down and away with
Dan, and I was indeed, happy for a time.
It can just never last, unfortunately;
if it had, I would never dream of disclosing this to you.
You don't know how many times I lay
in bed, thinking about how different things
would have been if things never fell down and apart.
Most nights, I keep thinking that you fell in love
with the wrong Lillian.
I feel like I have to prove myself to you at every
step I take, trying to make myself valid
in your eyes, but it seems like all
my attempts are in vain. You told me, that if I really
loved something, I would let it go. You
basically wrenched my hand away, and unfortunately, it feels like
I still have a single thread of your shirt in my fingers,
twined
tangled so deep
that the string may never come loose.
It kills me, as
I must be faithful to Dan, and see you fall in love
with this engaged girl,
it just burns me up so much in jealousy,
because I see you in love with some other girl named
Lillian and I just can't help but wish that was me, wish
I was that girl, wish I had your love.
I don't want to **** up, and I want to be perfect
in your eyes, and it stings something
fierce when I'm yelled at by
you.
I feel like I can't fully devote my heart to
someone, if another has a piece hidden somewhere in
history, and this is true. I just... I just can't move
on. Please, I beg of you;
keep this to yourself,
don't speak to--
I feel like I’m almost obsessed with you.
And... May I say, it doesn’t feel nice.
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 10:35 PM UTC
Still, I sip nicotine clouds;
this calls for calming calculation.
I wave my scythe, slashing though shrouds.
Still I sip nicotine clouds.
Hardly buzzed, I flick at fish flies.
She gladly drifts through prostration.
Still…I sip nicotine clouds
that call for calming calculation.
Waiting depths to rock me closer,
barely breathing surface air.
I’m death’s beautiful composer,
waiting depths to rock me closer.
Mom said, “No one would choose her.”
I’m infected, why should I care?
Wait for depths to rock me closer,
barely breathing surface air.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
How strange my young life, its proclivities.
How quick and profound are its extremities.
How cruel the loss and joyous the gains.
And yet surrounded and ever by change.
As I reflect on my last year,
I reflect on my life now. Like watching waves from a pier.
Or should I be filled with fear?
Who I was, when I was then.
And then that I became back and forth again.
What my chances are for times to be like they were are very dim.
But how can one wish to return?
Because if that were the case,
Then I’d never learn.
And then the rewards I would never earn.
But is that what life is about?
At such a young age,
My mind is filled with doubt.
And these new ideas flourish and sprout.
And I start to pride in my growing.
Because I have spent all these years knowing,
At least my first name.
But as I grow older my name changes meanings.
But not based upon me,
Based on what people are seeing.
What does it mean when they say seeing is believing?
So what does my name mean this year?
I slowly become someone else’s image I must adhere.
But the days of ending time are coming near.
And I feel like I have nothing to fear.
I have seen many versions of myself.
And the mirror screams, “Look at yourself!”
And as I reflect on my last year,
And the girl looking back at me in the mirror,
The changes have never been so clear.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Dante pulls out the lily
its orange petals
glistening in the pale moonlight
Lillian stares at it
its the most beautiful thing
she has ever laid eyes upon
Edging closer to her
nervous she will bolt
He takes her hand
"Lillian I am just a lonely assasin
a monster in the eyes of your society"
He looks at her
fear in his eyes
"but you have dared to love me
you have turned your back agaisnt their ways"
He hold her close
and whispers
"So I must ask you this just once"
Do you dare love me again?
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
I like baked fish
I like a fish in a dish
I like Lillian Gish
I like to dress up
in a gigantic wide
brimmed hat and
go to the movies
I like smooth stones
I like sun bleached bones
I like raspberry scones
I like to hide behind
the bookshelf and
scream when you
walk by
I like sleeping dogs
I like foggy fogs
I like Prague
I like to sob into
a pillow and never
wake up again
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 3:24 PM UTC
In the car
you felt awkward with
bobbed veiled eyes,
squished in,
a neighbour insisted lift.
Their Language was
Course
Throaty
chiming with gold.
You had rationed bread then,
it was women’s only
and when one was
touched askew,
they took her away
from there.
That time of servitude,
5am Dettol, peeling skin,
when your man would
be home waiting to
kiss them Better.
You were glowing and
not alone.
You lent me a book,
frayed edges with
bi-carb knowledge &
I was surprised
that it worked,
as I didn’t know much.
A cache of
pyramid pictures,
Wet mirrored smiles
as they looked down upon us,
with the man reflected
gone
but
kindly enough.
Dragging your feet,
talk time for hours, when
your upward chin
would float above your
throbbing knees,
no grievances at all.
Decibels rose
like the formidable
stone wall
that was still protecting you,
and the laughter you brought
to me was…
thank you.
My practice called and so
I beckoned,
but you whispered
to me somewhere -
with a single
guidance,
to come back.
A sunny day,
a set of white teeth,
was all you could see,
morphine soaked back
against green
struck trees.
Naïve glass
between you and I,
a rose card
with plush material
on the front,
it was
the most expensive one.
Blame that left me
misaligned against a rail,
peeking through
the parts that felt,
coldly
wrong.
Licked and waiting,
useless,
I didn’t know how
to release your
generous sentient
from mine.
Graceful and soft without
life's judgement,
it has locked within me
and remains,
like a warm
forgiving light.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
Give me a moment, and I'll give you forever. Give me your winter and I'll give you my summer. Give me your kiss, and I'll give you my soul. Give me your youth so we'll never grow old. Give me your light, and I'll give you the stars. I will always be near, even if you are far. Give me your wrongs, and I'll give you my rights. Give me your heart, and I'll give you my Life..
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
Stand in the April rain with me
darling lady with blue September night eyes
my arms are weak
from carrying Oranges and fruits
3 miles to the room
Come out side with me
I have cheap wine
that will make your smile mine
Let's go on a walk
to the forest
to the Sahara desert
no need for that dress
or your
eye make up
I have a pick up truck
I have wings
tattooed with religious hymns
Lets climb the roof
of our apartment building
listen to the birds play piano
the kids running
full of youth
our lives are empty with everything around us
I am the simple creek river
a boy plays a small piano
we'll catch flight on the wing of a Moth
a mother butterfly
I see the moon
the stars a million miles away
winking at us
we'll go to Vegas
buy a car
i'll name you lillian
you can name me Hank
I'll smoke long cigars
live in a house
that is small
and i'll stand at the window
and glare out over the City's River
we'll listen to jazz all night
and catch fire flies with our palms
we'll grow old
and forget the time
on the wall
and roll around in the mud
pick up rocks at the lake
and skip them as far as we can
I'll write songs for the piano
Nights will be long
we'll buy cheap wine
and grow white
we'll stare at the fire place
throw our hats in
throw our clothes in
our wine glasses
our thoughts
our dreams
our finger nail clippers
Then we'll get in the pick up truck
head to mexico
let the house burn
with all our things
and your make up
we'll turn into lizards
into fruit flies
into southern eagles
we'll move in with the clouds
the stars
the moon and its daughter
I'll catch a Red robin
and give it o you
we'll stand in the river
and measure the weather
by the hairs on our skin
We'll have 10 dollars
go to a french film
and at the end
will be the end.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC