Short Sills Poems

coastal wind warning
tapping out threats in Morse-code
on my window sills...

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Strawberry daylight
Sun streaming through window sills
Bathing in the warmth...

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On my desk ink spills
Crow landing on window sills
Wish I had his quills

By Robb A. Kopp...

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Icy chills and heating bills
  Streaks and stains on window sills
Of winter I have had my fill ~
  Return, O Robin and Whippoorwill...

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Dust
drifting
coating sills
forlorn floating
motes

lost
lonely
abandoned
the empty room
sighs




contest: TURN ON THE LANTERNE

Margaret Foster Sept. 2011...

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Sweet rain drops tapping on the window panes
leaving trails on sills and ivy
in a rush like soft liquid, 
crystals fall, then vanish
‘neath the thirsty earth
and nourishes
the flowers;
earth worms
too!
~*~...

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Strawberry eating frog was full to the gills
Loving his fruit which brought flies to his sills
He is having so much fun, it is crazy said my cousin Zills
Zip Zap Zing and Zoom in flew in more flies from the hills....

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Modern Haiku  

Wet dog
Looks into a rain pool
Contemplative 

When it rains
Cats sleep on window sills
Pensive mice


Meditative rain 
Gently descends
In September



Introspective  
Mountain village 
In the mist...

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These graphite singularities
contain universes
unconceived,
awaiting
the Big Bang
of inspiration, but
narrative particles
escape like
Hawking radiation --
gravity’s diminution
evaporatively slow,
nearly virtual,
and random....

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A year
in which
each day
brings one
tenth inch.
First the
window sills
are covered
then door
jambs. Our
lips are
sealed then
our eyes
shut. Sleep
like this
we've never
known. Will
Spring return? 
Unknown. We
care not....

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New growth welcomes April showers 
Gardens bloom with spring time flowers
Daffodils display their frills 
Pink marigolds grace window sills
Robins sing to greet the day 
Rabbits frolic as they play
Another year of brand new growth
I welcome spring and summer both...

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Sedimentary and metamorphic rock
From earths mantle or crust
Host of tungsten granites and diorites

Intrusive extrusive and hypabyssal
Of batholths sills and dikes
Eruptions of subaerial volcanoes

Continental crust 
A pacific ring of fire
4030 million years old...

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Hello

I saw goodbyes
Standing still
No window sills
No next day
Then
I saw Hellos
Lined up to stare
No step tomorrows
No sorrows still
There
It’s Hello and
Goodbyes
So stand still
See window wonders
Signs that will
Sigh a goodbye
Until

Hello

June 2017...

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Dandelions and daffodils 
Baby's Breath and violets, mix
 
In flowerpots on window sills 
A sparrows nest built broken sticks
 
Cracked open shells, first flights from chicks 
Testing their wings and flying skills

One day they'll learn to make their fix 
A nest for chicks, up in the hills...

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He
Whispers
Poetic words
In the heat of love
Dreaming of tomorrows truth
I fall onto a hopeless dream

Awaken
By the emptiness
Of rumbled bed sheets
The song birds singing on window sills
As the sun rises yet again and again and again
Coffee cup filled with tears, loneliness fills the years...

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A pain Overlooking
From under of the door sills
Overlooking suffering
Uniqueness of paddle in heart
 Closed of the doors

Oh, Tears lamb
 Which stray from herd
 We too
 Until now, 
trying to cut of crying ropes 
 We caught up
Did not come a taste of happiness
 We sold in the slave market
Looking to new hope....

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In deep winter, 
in the heart of cold,
his days are met 
with endless snow 
resembling nothing 
so much as waves, 
white as salt,
banked against
the walls of his house,
above window sills,
sealing doors,
denying escape.

He lost count 
of the buried days,
so come the thawing,
the regaining of his lonely mind,
anywhere but here called,
whispering escape....

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The Promise
 
  Since the women left
  Toilets are blocked, men pee
  Into kitchen sinks.
  Pot plants on sills have died 
  And gay blades live in fear of rape
  Shops have shut their doors
  Men sit in bars and sulk 
  When not shooting holes in the sky 
  If the women only will return 
  We will promise the world
  But only after they have cleaned up 
  Our clutter....

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I

the slow burning light mocks
centuries and clocks spinning still
novels farm dust in window sills
and endlessly thoughts roam halls

poets die receding
ghosts burn brittle pages
ink tears tyrannical
hues blast screaming war

II

a patient awakens
in a white
room full of

voices

his heart pounds
hell’s last hope
roaring pain
drowned in 

flames...

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Those Good Tomatoes

		Chicago, South Side

Late July and I am waiting 
for those good tomatoes
brought to the city from farms

on trucks with a swinging scale,
brought to the city 
and into the alleys 

by Greeks and sons
in late July 
and early August,

tomatoes so red they reign 
on the sills of my mind all winter
too perfect to eat. 

Donal Mahoney...

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The rain clouds overflow and spill.
I shiver in the wind.
Stooping to pick some springtime,
I bring an armload in.

My house is filled with sunshine,
For on all the window sills
Are streams of golden sunbeams
From my yellow daffodils.

These lovely golden flowers
Are my gift from up above.
For my spring hungry soul, my God
Sends proof of his true love. 

By Joyce...

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I'm living in a world of dreams, but this I know.
Red numbered doors and window sills...
Dust busters and mail boxes...
...Imaginary things, dreaming things.
This I know.

A frightening thought,
Of what lay awake beneath those sheets of concrete and glass;
A virgin forest in the late summer sun. 
A million birds. You've never seen so many birds.
Where mankind sleeps in the cold....

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Pills, pills, pill, pills, pills, pills, pills.
I never used to take any no matter what my ills.
We have four giant bowls full,
They fit in our window sills.
Pills, pills, pills, pills, pills, pills, pills.
I take them for my shoulder
When arthritis gives me a thrill.
Blue and white allow me to walk,
When foot pain kicks in and still
I feel annoyed by them 
These pills, pills, pills, pills, pills....

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How familiar but hazy this barn, 
with taints of everything I'd known, 
or felt I knew --- 
my modern lifestyle 
had been too cosmopolitan, false -
Sunset glimmered on the rusty sills,
yet the comfort  grew warmer
and I was finally
in an abode I belonged,
the smell of baked potatoes
drifting on--
where time walked these shoes
back in grandparents' halls.


Completely Your Choice (36)
Oct 31, 2020...

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Cobwebs cover the window sills
And dust chokes the doors
All is quiet, air stagnant as camera stills
Take heed, steer clear of these shores

On dark nights they shine the beacon
Sound the horn to signal danger
Tarry not, your resolve shall weaken
For its they you should fear, stranger

Dread not the sunken pirate ships
But here’s no safe harbor to dock
The night crew, the Graveyard Crypts
Man the lighthouse on this rock”...

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