The Purple Hat Society
Do you look good in purple,
Do you dare wear it?
If you ask this question,
You are not ready for
The purple hat society.
Do you discard a shard
Or mock a crooked crock?
Do you see knaves
When looking at princes?
Then you are not ready for
The purple hat society.
Do you dot all your 'i's
And seal all ziploc bags?
Sorry, you won't
Make it with the purples.
Do you help support
The cosmetic industry
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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When A Sunflower Dies
It's sad to watch sunflowers die
That once were strong and bright
Their thick stalks drawing food from soil
To reach amazing height
Their faces once were giant stars
Their hearts an intense brown
Their sunny petals always smiled
And formed a golden crown
When stalks are cut and brought indoors
To parlors decked with grace
They bring its owners fleeting joy
With fresh and glowing face
Nobody cares when in a week
Life ebbs from each dry stem
Each petal shriveling and spent
To certain death condemned
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Thick the Fog
Thick the fog of my transgressions
As I blindly tread life’s way
Searching for a post or anchor
Body weary, tearstained eyes
Each day moves in slow procession
People touch and leave my life
Sunset finds me with one question
Where do I fit in this scheme?
Deep regrets from early childhood
Stumbling into errant ways
When the heavy press of growing
Brought temptations and much pain
Is there hope for my sad journey?
None can answer, though they’ve tried
All I have is one faint prayer
That the Savior will find me
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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The Poem of Life
The poem of life
may rhyme or may not
it's put out in stanzas -
whatever you've got.
The poem of life
is sometimes a ditty
a ballad, a sosnnet
sad, lovely or witty.
Some couplets may falter
and burn into ash
as love affairs enter
proverbial crash.
The poem of life
now childish, now grand
reflects the old psyche
asserting its' stand.
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Funny Girl
They call me a romantic
They say I wear it well
I am their entertainment
A funny girl, a swell
The clowning and the laughter
Fit me much like a glove
For fleeting hours forgetting
The hell of my dark love
I thought of Pagliacci
His greasepaint smeared with tears
You came to me raw branded
In flames of lust much seared
There was a tiny kernel
A diamond, oh, so rough
That melded us together
But it was not enough
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Warning Angels
They seem to light when I'm at rest
Not thinking much at all
Then suddenly a feeling comes
And tells me not to call
A former friend who suddenly
Decides to pick up ties
That long ago she tore away
Ignoring many tries
From me to meet or call or care
With pale excuses, lies
They say when someone lets you down
You need to let them go
That angels pulled them from your life
To clear the way and sow
New budding friendships up ahead
Much brighter than what's gone
To newer beauties up ahead
Before your journey's done
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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A Prayer For The Sad Ones
I watch cut flowers droop and die
Right in my cozy room
And thoughts arise of homeless men
Who lost their childhood's bloom
There was a time when each of them
Was innocent and young
They may have had a parent, too
Now lost, unknown, unsung
But soon their paths began to twist
In hardship's brutal strife
And bit by bit they came undone
Skid row was now their life
My hope is that a seed or two
From flowers dropp to earth
And that the miracle of growth
Will sprout a brand new birth
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Where Wild Dandelions Dwell
Brambles, weeds and thorny thistles
Poke their heads from chain link wires
Whispering arcane epistles
Wind and summer rain inspires
If a passerby should linger
Hoping to observe their sounds
They withdraw their tapered fingers
Crouching lower to the ground
Man was never wont to enter
Secrets of low wayside chaff
He prefers a richer mentor
Ruby red or golden calf
It may be grace dwells in humble
Unkempt much neglected dells
Hid behind a stone wall crumbled
Where wild dandelions dwell
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Painter's Life
I do not envy painter's life
Of turpentine and palette knife
Forever waiting for the hand
That rests upon depression's stand
I do not envy gessoed sheets
Awaiting brushstrokes soon to meet
Yet when the work is almost done
Ripped up, unseen by anyone
I do not envy hopeless hours
Expecting inspiration's powers
To seize and lift a dull malaise
And turn a lifeless work ablaze
I do not envy people's awe
Appreciation's loud hurrah
When masterpieces are displayed
The costs the painter for them paid
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Capturing
To catch a tiger by the tail
To seize a dragonfly
To pierce a butterfly's frail wings
Possessing them thereby
That is the quest of those who hunt
And them who gather things
The skilled attempt of silversmiths
To fashion them on rings
Today I saw fine jewelry
In shapes of elves and sprites
And ruby throated hummingbirds
In golden garnet flight
What fairer gifts could damsels seek
Than passion flowers in rows
Alighting on their graceful necks
In amethyst repose
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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