Tag Archives: poetry

Independence EveryDay

Posted on July 5, 2019 by jillbpearlman

Celebrations Morning wakes hours before its city creatures.I see light through the shutters:cool insides while their clapboards communicate color — hydrangea pink, hydrangea blue —to the morning.  Slate gray street, a herribone brick sidewalk.  Couples inside, coffee darker than their peignoirs.  It’s a holiday.The … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Independence EveryDay

The Poet who mistook a Sunflower for Eve

Posted on June 1, 2019 by jillbpearlman

As the poet must give up control of meaning to the reader, so the abstract painter must let go – rejoice! – in happy (mis)interpretations of her viewers.   After seeing Joan Mitchell’s large canvases (seen here in detail), I … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on The Poet who mistook a Sunflower for Eve

Genesis, Moonstone Beach

Posted on May 30, 2019 by jillbpearlman

Thanks, Crosswinds Poetry Journal, for publishing this poem in Volume IV !

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on Genesis, Moonstone Beach

How do you know when you’re ready?

Posted on February 24, 2019 by jillbpearlman

Last week I presented a project that seemed unlikely to exist and equally unlikely to succeed, but it managed to do both.  It was a live poetry performance called Mirrors.  In spite of the simple title, every time I tried … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Armageddon Blues

Posted on January 20, 2019 by jillbpearlman

I am happy to see my poem, Armageddon Blues, in the winter issue of Salamander.   The poem is full of irony and tenderness for the challenges of everyday life in times of siege. The unthinkable seems to suck all … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on Armageddon Blues

The New on my Sleeve

Posted on January 2, 2019 by jillbpearlman

  In spite of my jaded self, wearing Ecclesiastes as a badge sewn onto velvet sleeves, I laugh. The sky knows no calendar.  It doesn’t give a whiff for New Years. But damn, those clouds, puffed sweetly across the sky … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Lucie Brock-Broido, Teenage Poetess

Posted on March 9, 2018 by jillbpearlman

  I’m grieving for Lucie Brock-Broido, the poet who died yesterday. We grew up across a street from each other in Pittsburgh. It was a cobblestone lane, really, enchanted like much of her poetry. From her teenage years, she was … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on Lucie Brock-Broido, Teenage Poetess

Snow Shoes (The Right Stuff)

Posted on January 29, 2018 by jillbpearlman

I imagined an old-fashioned thatch — bamboo, birch, cat gut – a magic, organic weave of the kind that keeps our lives from sinking. We fitted our new shoes, meshed now in high-tech plastic, then went thrashing in deep snow. … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

How I Learned to Love the Bomb Cyclone

Posted on January 10, 2018 by jillbpearlman

The Shape of Snow Needlepoint of snow in the streetlight cross stitches in the gusting wind. Cars begin to disappear, the nearby elms fade in the distance. By the shore, four sharks roll up, bone dead, though a dog learns … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

In Crisis: Poignancy

Posted on December 7, 2017 by jillbpearlman

  In Crisis: Poignancy Attempt emergency resuscitation: it lays on a pyre of fighting words, gasping and fluttering. The lilting head of a blue hydrangea thick and petalled, thinking. Even brooding is old-fashioned. Bludgeon me with your compassion. Shout it … Continue reading →

Posted in poetry | Tagged , | 1 Comment