Liilia Talts Morrison - Poems
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Poetry Series Liilia Talts Morrison - poems - Publication Date: 2015 Publisher: Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive Liilia Talts Morrison(August 20,1937) Liilia loves Florida, which is the subject of many of her poems and writings. Favorite themes: the spiritual life, simplicity, color, nature & its creatures and things fallen to the wayside. www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 1 A Blind Cat We wandered down a narrow lane My friends and I that day Just having lunched in a small bar That time had worn and frayed The building was of ancient style Wood, paint much chipped and worn But this old restaurant hung on Though silent and forlorn I felt the decades rolling back To times when things were slow When people stopped and talked a bit There was no rush to go We laughed and chatted just as if The world was fun and jest For our lives were neatly boxed Far from this squalor's nest I stepped aside and saw a cat A black one, sitting there So still, so dark, so unconcerned In midday dust and glare When I approached, he did not move He did not seem to care If strangers stepped too close to him Of dangers unaware His eyes I could not see at all When I approached this stray Two little slits were in the place Where cat eyes ought to lay When I got home I became obsessed His image reoccurred Who hurt his eyes and silenced throat From cat meows and purrs? www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 2 It's odd how what had been a day Of fun with friends and glee Became compassion's gift of sight A blind cat made me see. Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 3 A Bright Hello I went a'wandering downtown Where people milled around They seemed to while away the hours Some heading up, some down There was the lawyer in a suit Who just had won a case He sat upon the bootblack's chair Success basked on his face Then there were men, in shabby dress Who traded under wraps With greasy dollars passing hands Bound in addiction's traps But most were just meek passersby Who worked at humble tasks Their clothes and eyes expressionless No pomp, no stealth, no masks And then I saw the orchid man In sweaty vendor's clothes He peddled flowers for a trade Lined up in ordered rows Then there appeared in his display A bright and distant glow I knew the one who made all blooms Had sent a bright "Hello." Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 4 A Bruised Deer A smitten and bruised deer I hide in tall bushes, Too easily spotted By daylight. A prey. In night’s sober respite, I venture forth shyly, Smitten, side bleeding, From secrets of reeds. Your wild woods enfolded With musk scented blossoms, While dew covered moonbeams Soon wove a tight cage. I peeked at the sky Past glistening tree tops, Leaves dropping green diamonds, As soft feet drew near. The panther was tawny, Its eyes understanding, Paws soft to the touch, Mouth’s beauty sublime. You took me in silence. For one frozen moment, Wood creatures in thickets Stopped trilling their songs. When morning arose To a fresh quilt of dewdrops, It gently embraced A path touched by blood. I cannot bear daytime, Too weak now to wander To hummingbirds flutter And mossy delights. www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 5 My fate is to suffer The tearing of cobwebs, That silences birdsong In panther’s dark play. A smitten and bruised deer I hide in tall bushes, Too easily spotted By daylight. A prey. Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 6 A Burning Love As campfire flames still upward danced Full knowing they would die So was our fireside love a trance A doomed and searing lie Rekindling your fair youthful dream I was to heal those scars That life had singed into your soul In Satan's lustful wars And I believed what others deemed A hopeless, foolish quest To me this love of passion seemed A miracle, a test I lick my wounds beside the hearth Where long dead embers lie Yet in my heart it all was worth The pain for us to try. Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 7 A Candle Burns A candle burns and melts away its stately form transforming but to a fleeting memory of warmth and welcome glowing All earthly forms one day descend into the soil below to follow cycles set of old as seasons come and go Though candles and all forms of life soon end or ebb away new candles and new life ascend to herald a new day. Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 8 A Child's Wish We were just little children In war torn wayside lanes Yet roses were still blooming In fields of pink and white The little goats were grazing In yards of villagers Providing milk and cheeses When all the stores were closed I wished that some kind housewife Would offer me a rose A pretty one and fragrant But none stretched forth her hand I wondered what it felt like To drink some fresh, warm milk Or taste a slice of white cheese On bread so dark and thick But none was there to offer A crumb or cup of milk For I was way too bashful And would have run away We were just little children In war torn wayside lanes Yet roses were still blooming In fields of pink and white. Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 9 A Cypress A cypress tree stood like a guard Protecting us against life’s threats Its roots and knees kept summer storms From shattering our little nest Small fingers often prayers formed ‘Gainst daily struggles we held tight Sunday we sat on well-worn pews And read the Good Book Wednesday night Once in a while the pump would break Yet somehow it would end up fixed The old jalopy chugged along Till we were safely in the yard One day the weather turned real cold A little heater must be bought I still remember how the tire Decided to go flat that day An angel came to help us then Looking to all just like a man When we arrived at our cold place That heater took a special spot How fragile was our thread of days That could be torn so easily By people who had clout at whim Yet we survived through thick and thin Whom can I thank for those old days Who was it held us like frail birds Wings bruised, hearts bleeding, trembling still From loss of father, husband, friend Was it the cypress tree up front The only one down that small road Was it put there by heaven’s door To keep us safe and fear no more? www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 10 Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 11 A Daughter's Memories Faded pictures fragments of time an old stapler now repainted an ancient wallet carried by my father through war through peace through youth through old age consistency perseverance order respect these words come to mind he taught us to pray short prayers simple he brought home a fresh fir tree on Christmas Eve I look at his worn wallet his death certificate his family pictures in hazy sepia images one thing about memories they are alive even though all those people are dead all those mementos www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 12 useless unless you happen to be his daughter Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 13 A Different Garden I do not have a garden a hedge as fence or wall no well trod path to travel no swing from branches swaying of roses none at all There was a time now faded when I would barefoot sway enveloped in green glory of trees and shrubs of summer all that has gone away There came a time when roses turned to a cursed stem forever branded scarring from thorns of love abandoned a cutting diadem Yet in my darkened chamber those summer meadows gleam as dingy shadowed windows transform to vines of cedars to crawl on ceiling beams No earthly grove or garden rapt loves of days long past can rival my fair visions of fantasies now welling in dreams old age amassed I do not have a garden a hedge or fence or wall no well worn path to travel no swing from branches swaying of roses none at all. Liilia Talts Morrison www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 14 A Dog A woman of grace came to my place red eyes filled with fog lips pursed on smooth face she had lost her dog a woman of grace had lived many years had shed many tears had lost many things and now she lost her dog it was not just a dog it was her log of marking the day then he went away a woman of grace can not replace that dog now buried in bog ending the race it's sad when you're old and can't keep a hold of tales to be told so cold with mold and dogs once bold.