A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “poetry

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Brother to brother,

Memory to thought,

Tasting the stories

that old one-eye sought,

Storing them safely

in the heart of a cloud,

Mythos eternal,

Never spoken aloud.IMG_2279


Me and my Shadow

Sorry folks, I’ve tried to warn Mia about words…they can turn and bite when you try to make them march in line.  😉


The Dance

Liminal, the place between, between the seen and the unseen, the corner view, the edge of sight, the distance between wrong and right, the gap that lies between the worlds, where all the dragons sleep, tight-curled, from page to page, from left to right, in and out and day and night, all the spaces in between, where the tricksters dance unseen, in whirling steps of green and blue, and dancing, make the world anew, in colors of the brightest sheen, to decorate the place between.


Puzzle

bright and quick or dark and scary,  she’s the woodlands favorite faery, flitting from her treetop aerie to the forest floor below.  Try to catch her, beam of sunlight, or at night a falling star, laughter ringing, high voice singing, soon you won’t know where you are.  bright and quick or dark and scary, she’s the woodlands favorite faery, flitting from her treetop aerie to the forest floor below.  Follow her through shifting shadows, bright and dark at once is she, as she leads you, you will follow, and your home you’ll never see.  bright and quick or dark and scary, she’s the woodlands favorite faery, flitting from her treetop aerie to the forest floor below.


Mirrorrim

 

Mirror mirror on the wall, hanging there so silently, can you see me here at all, or do you stand in awe of me?

See my skin as white as snow, see my smile as sharp as thorn, behind my lips so rosy red, a beauty grown, but never born.

My people love me, as they might, they laud my beauty and my grace, adore my hair as black as night, and see in me my mother’s face.

Mothers ash is buried deep, beneath the sacred Rowan tree, but should I cry beneath its shade, I hear her voice still speak to me.

Blood red tears soak through the ground, nourishing the thirsty earth, and whispering the leaves take voice, echoes of her cruel mirth.

Stepmother, fear me as you should, for though you may have fathers ring, tis I who owns his beating heart…in me, the conscience of the king.

Huntsman with your sharpened knife, you track me for the queen so good, a single kiss and you are mine, amazed amidst the darkened wood.

The beating heart, unlike my own, ensconced within a box of gold, and carried to stepmother dear, a tragic tale will soon be told.

By animals in forest deep, my body torn too much to save, the heart the only evidence, to lay beside my mother’s grave.

From kitchen knave to scullery maid, soon all in mourning deep will be, whilst I move through them whisper soft, feeding on the tragedy.

And then, replete, I’ll slip away, down to the caverns dark and deep, far from the biting of the sun, where spirits howl and duergar creep.

There among the little men, I’ll sleep until I thirst again, then waken, smiling in my bliss, to share again my blood red kiss.


Edit: Very Important Question

 

(Hmm.  8 “likes” and no comments.  Guess that’s a “no thanks” to Patreon for now.  🙂

Okies, back to  “work”…maybe something will be worth supporting in the future.)

Heya! Got a question for y’all. Ever heard of a thing called “Patreon”? It’s part of the whole crowd funding scene, a place kinda like Kickstarter but with two notable differences: A) It’s just for artists, but for artists of all stripes and types…and B) Instead of one time donations, it’s a recurring thing, allowing folks to be, basically, patrons of the arts…at whatever level is possible for them. From a dollar a month to…well, as far as you wanna go.

The fun thing is the reward system. For each level of payment there’s a reward, contingent on the particular artists choice and type of art.

For instance, for visual arts it might be anything from being able to see works in progress before anyone else, to being entered into a monthly drawing for an original piece!

Also, like Kickstarter, there may be goals to be reached, depending on the artist in question and their needs.

I’m seriously considering starting a page, for two purposes. I’m still really intent on organizing my stuff into book form, or maybe even two…one for the “social commentary”/awareness sort of ones (that one will be a not for profit project, but it won’t, unfortunately, be free to make…) and one for my mythology based work, both the poetry and maybe even some short stories.

I’m also moving, soon, from Florida back out West, to Salt Lake…and I want to build a tiny home. My severely limited mobility really cuts into my creativity, as chronic pain leads to depression and anxiety. I’m basically living in one room now, and one under 400 sq. ft. space with no doors or stairs or other nonsense sounds like my idea of paradise…not to mention it would be my first actual space entirely of my own…at 47, that makes it about time.

So I guess I’m asking for advice…does it sound like something worth doing, and should I put the effort into it?

Don’t worry, my new stuff will still come here (hopefully more often than recently…the more I write the more they come, I’ve found.) and it will be free as always.

But folks who want to follow me over to Patreon will have to let me know what sort of thing you might like for a reward…some of the ideas I’ve had are a chat/text group just for y’all, to talk about whatever…(in case you missed it, I LOVE to talk…😝) or maybe personal suggestions/requests for poems, toss me a random poem prompt, stuff like that? I’m even up for challenges…give me (almost) any three words and an adjective (funny, horrific, romantic, etc) and I’ll find/construct a piece for you. If any of these sounds good, just leave me a note in the usual place, and maybe we can make this happen!

Love,
KC


Perspective

On the bright side, he loves me,
On the bright side, he’s home,
On the bright side, I’m with him,
not here in the dark on my own.

In the light of the bright side the darkness seems endless, the patterns repeating again and again, and the glare of the bright side is searing and deadly, pinpointing where the light ends.

On the bright side, he loves me,
On the bright side, she’s gone,
On the bright side, I’m with him,
not here in the dark all alone.

On the bright side (where is it?) I’m with him (I miss you) not here in the dark all alone…


Blue Streak

Alice in blue jeans, my rabbit-hole child,
blue hair and blonde eyes and an icicle smile,
how in the world did you steal my heart, while constantly staying that one step apart?
Alice in blue jeans, my looking glass girl,
here in a flash and gone in a whirl.
Always arriving, but never to stay,
time after time you must be on your way,
how do I catch you and hold you so tight that your icicle smile melts into delight?


Heartsong

Where do I live, what is my pride,
What is this tickle that burrows inside?
The howling at night when the loneliness calls,
the whisper that screams down behind the white walls?
How do I find it, the place I belong,
do I follow my heart,
do I follow a song?
Do I search for a scrap of rhyme scrawled by a cloud,
or something my heart begins screaming out loud?
I’m lost in the maelstrom of “present” and “now”,
in time rushing past, can I stop it somehow?
Can I hold the years still, though the waters are strong, and finally return to the place I belong?
Lost in the whirlwind,
staring back through the years,
do I answer my heart song or follow my fears?


Mother of Forests

0113ff9adff9369794bd739698bc598dc56a50b300Spread my mind and guard my soul,

the me that is and always will be,

help my roots grow deep and wide

and may you always shelter me.

 

May you dance with every breeze,

delight the eye with every sway,

train my mind to hear and teach

the wisdom you impart each day.

 

Take my voice to be your song,

through street and inner-city school,

let your shelter shade their minds

and temper heat with dappled cool.

 

Take my words to sing your praise,

and fill the ear with endless green,

until their hearts can grow again,

until their life and yours run clean.


Through the Looking Glass…Again.

The mirror me has other eyes,
I meet them, not from vanity,
Dark they are, and umber hued,
The color of insanity.

Pinned like a butterfly I stand,
Meeting that endless gaze,
Till terrified I wrench away,
And dash into the maze.

The path before me twists and turns,
All distance an illusion,
At every bend another choice,
Each step ends in confusion.

The Sound of Madness watches me,
Her mocking gaze surrounds me,
Laughing as I stumble past,
And walls of glass confound me.


Two Sisters

sister, sister, tell me true,
what I ever did to you,
stretch your hand to save me here,
and you may have my sweetheart dear.

I will have your sweetheart, true,
but never will I rescue you,
my hand outstretched will never be,
for sake of what you’ve done to me.

sister, sister, tell me why,
I see my murder in your eye,
what e’er I’ve done I’ll make amends,
and you and I shall live as friends.

Never shall I stretch my hand,
to help you safe up to dry land,
though it may be hard to see,
I’ll think of what you’ve done to me.

sister, sister, tell me here,
is it of my sweetheart dear,
I will forsake him, for your sake,
and you his hand may surely take.

it is about your sweetheart, aye,
whom you love half as much as I,
and though on me he has yet frowned,
he’ll turn to me once you are drowned.

sister, sister, save me, please,
and I will swear on bended knees,
that you a bride will shortly be,
and I no more shall envy thee.

I will not save thee, sister mine,
though your prayers are sweet and fine,
this stream will bear you out to sea,
and you no more will bother me.

sister, sister, hear me now,
my curse on you I hereby vow,
you may well have my sweetheart true,
but this black deed you soon will rue.
sister, when you take my man,
try to hold him if you can,
his faithless heart will ne’er be true,
and this last thing I do to you.


In The House of My Enemy (trigger warning, child abuse)

 

In a basement, in a closet, in the corner of my mind,
I am hiding, I am running,  I am being hard to find.
Hide me darkness, hide me silence,  hide me safe from any sight,
keep me hidden, safe and quiet,  far from pain or rage or fright.
Search is coming, pain and anger, fear is icicles inside,
eyes are staring, heart is beating, breath is curling up to hide.
Footsteps nearing, rage is searing, in threat and anger raving,
darkness broken, hard words spoken, fear and pain past saving.
Hands are groping, no more hoping, plleas and promises ignored,
pain and screaming, fade to dreaming, till the darkness falls once more.


How Many Miles to Bedlam

how many miles to bethlehem
three-score years and ten,
you can get there by candle-light
but you’ll never come home again.

the walls are mirror covered,
in the room inside my head,
sprinkled with manic laughter
and eyes of glowing red.

the eyes are the window of the soul,
or so the proverbs say,
mine open on a burning hell
of discord and decay.

chaos is my normal,
normal is a curse,
sanity is stifling,
and boredom ten times worse.

my laughter smells of lightning,
and color-coded shame,
my face a demons beauty,
my heart an angels game.

look deep into my eyes and see
the mirror crazed within,
razor sharp glass shards that swirl
and swell beneath my skin.


Little Healer

The Little Healer

The Little Healer

This one is for…well, it’s pretty obvious, actually.  He’s a pretty remarkable little guy who’s touched a lot of hearts when he shows up with his mommy, here at Palm Gardens rehab.  So enjoy, or not, but no matter what…this one’s for

SHADOW

little Shadow, dog of light,
with silken coat in pearly white,
never cautious, always bold…
as long as there are arms to hold.

You share your boundless love,
with those who need it most,
cuddled in the lap or arms
of any willing host.

Shadow is your name, but still
you walk in beams of light,
sent from gentle loving eyes,
through swiftly fading sight.

you warm the coldest room,
make soft the hardest heart,
with antics meant to draw the eye,
you play your biggest part.

laughter is a healing gift,
within these painted halls,
and watching you, the laughter peals,
and shakes these solemn walls.

little Shadow, precious boy,
give your love and take our joy,
a present from the grateful few
whose aging hearts were warmed by you.


The Child

Ok, so I lied…this one snuck in there and insisted to come play, so here it is.  I hope you like it, and Merry Christmas/Holiday to everyone!

a child is born, to parents poor,
his cradle is a manger, small,
in stable dark beside the inn,
in wind that whistles through the wall.

yet at his birth, the heavens sing,
the glories of a stars bright light
eclipse the lanterns of the inn
and make the sky a beacon, bright

shepherds follow, drawn by light,
and angel voices singing sweet,
gifts they bring, a blanket warm,
the rhythm of a drums soft beat.

and from the East, the wiseman come,
men of learning, traveling far,
gifts they bring, to lay before
the glory born beneath the star.

and in the heavens, angels chorus
till all the world can hear the ring,
peace on earth and mercy mild,
and glory to the newborn king.

 


B&B

the maze amazing blocks my sight,
with bright lit halls and rooms of night,
my heart beats fast and hard with fright,
I stumble, and my head feels light.

the path winds forward, north, then east,
with frozen fear I hear the beast,
he shambles, slow, like one deceased,
but still he comes, to make his feast.

I looked into his private wing,
not knowing what my choice would bring,
its beauty made my heart fair sing,
just like a castle for a king.

he sat, his back toward the door,
admiring the fires bright roar,
and spoke, as if his throat were sore…
“I’m certain that I locked that door.”

he turned around, I thought I’d scream,
so much the monster did he seem,
his eyes with yellow light did gleam,
I pinched myself, in case of dream.

I saw a passageway, and ran,
without a thought, without a plan,
away from beast that thought as man,
as fast as any rabbit can!

and now I’m lost, in caverns deep,
for days I’ve had no food or sleep,
while after me the beast does creep,
so on and on, my pace I keep.

still I wonder if I dream,
if things are not the way they seem,
I swallow scream on breathless scream,
and watch behind for the eyes that gleam.


Valentines and Tinsel: A Love Song in Three Parts

Ice and fire, fire and rain,
the opposite attracts,
Drowned in tears and burning rage,
a heart beneath the axe.

“She could never forgive him, for what he didn’t say.”

Dance on air, fall to earth,
open up your eyes,
“Love will lift you” is no lie,
it just wears a disguise.

“I thought “I love you” meant forever…not until.”

Take your chances, place your bets,
the best is yet to come,
You may yet live to sit alone,
uncomfortably numb.


For Eugene and Inga

eugБольшое спасибо!
One of you was always there,
To keep the nights from stress and care,
All the small things you did with a smile,
And the big ones that piled up, mile on mile,
No arguments, no crankiness,
attention to detail all the time,
I’ll miss you in my long lonely nights,
And so I wrote this little rhyme.
До свидания!

( Eugene and Inga are an awesome married couple who work as Certified Nurses Assistants at the rehab I’ve been in for 6 and a half weeks, and I wanted to say goodbye properly since I leave tomorrow.  And for those of us who can’t read cyrillic, let alone Russian:  on top, Thank You Very Much.  on the bottom, Goodbye. )


Dearing, my Dearing

(This was written for a lady I met who had the unfortunate luck of being named Dearing.  While I love the name, this poem almost immediately sprung into my creatively sick mind, and I hope you like it.  Half Poe and half Edward Gorey…enjoy!)

Oh Dearling, my Dearling, let’s run away,
Sampling the ephemeral bright Springtime day
Drinking Spring wine,
“Forever!” we’ll say.
Oh Dearling, my Dearling, let’s run away.

Dearing, my darling, let’s run away,
You with your bright skin,
Me with my grey,
And sample the goodness of each summers day,
Oh, Dearing, my darling, let’s run away.

Oh, my darling Dearing, let’s run away,
Through the bright crispness of each Autumn day,
Smell of campfire,
And pumpkin decay,
Oh, my darling Dearing, let’s run away.

Oh, Darling, my Darling, I’ll lock you away,
Deep in the ice, and with carved letters, say…
This is my Dearing,
She once ran away.
Oh, Darling, my Darling, forever you’ll stay,
Deep in the ice of a cold Winters day.

 


Silent Sky

in his silent world he sits, and gently rocks away the day,
or sometimes, suddenly, he hits, his stare confused and far away,
each worrying claw and bite and slap seem to be beyond control,
and just as suddenly, he’ll stop, retreating to his safe, dark hole.

his eyes at times hold secret worlds, depths no other mind can plumb,
the children most especially, and so they laugh, and call him dumb,
and when he doesn’t understand, or even really seem to care,
they escalate, as children do, to pushing fists or pulling hair.

he has no tears, no loving glance, he will not look you in the eye,
locked inside his silent world, a world with neither sun or sky,
no rain, or wind, or painted wall, or happy voices raised in play,
he sits inside his tiny world, and softly rocks the day away.


Sea Witch

the moonlit sea is in her eyes,
the tides are in her heart,
and when the stormy weather hits,
she’ll tear your soul apart,
but when the seas are calm and bright,
the moon is full and fair,
her voice is dulcet, sweet and soft,
and the stars shine in her hair,
ahh then my lady comes to me,
across the shining sea,
and sleeps contented in my arms,
snuggled close to me,
and all is right within the world,
as long as we’re together,
but all too soon she’s gone again,
as changeable as weather,
and patiently I wait for her,
for she’ll sure return to me,
as soon as the sea is calm and bright,
and the moon shines on the sea.

 


Mia’s silly rhyming song, by Mia

the flat cat has a hat
he throws it at the silly bat
because the bat it squashed him flat
and sat on top of his new hat

the car goes far under the star
the star looks down to see the car
the car stops at the soda bar
and then it goes on far and far

the silly fox sits in a box
until the man comes with the locks
and locks the box up with the fox
because the fox stole all his socks

the sad bear lives at the fair
and dances in the sticky air
and wishes he was out of there
and back at home in his warm lair

the little bug lives in the rug
in a hole he dug and dug
and gives his family a great big hug
because they live there nice and snug


Strangers

If you’d never known me, would you miss me?
Would you sometimes listen for a voice that isn’t there,
Would certain smells remind you of a place you’d never been,
Or would you catch a glimpse of me, passing on the stair?

I remember you, although we’ve never met.
I know your eyes, your smile, your breath upon my ear,
I see you in the empty bed, and in the other chair,
I hear your laugh out on the street, and always will, I fear.

Your face sneaks up on me, sometimes,
in keepsakes and old photos, streaked with tears,
proof ephemeral and fine, these memories of you;
the stranger that I never knew, but loved so many years.