Tuesday, December 31, 2013


Dandelions' sunshine feel
Ivy leaves winding 'round
Venus Fly Trap's flying meal
Elephants' trumpeting sound
Red skinned man with herbs to heal
Snakes slithering on the ground
Iceburg beneath barking seals
The bald eagle rarely found
Yellow rock beneath your heel

Written by K, Copyright 2013

happy new year

So, the new year is upon us, which always has my mind thinking of a new year resolution that will help me to progress as a person and keep a bit of goodness in my life. My number one goal for myself is to continue meditating on a regular basis to help calm my mind from my OCD, and continue to grow in practicing energy work to help my family and I. That is really always my underlying goals...to help calm my OCD and to help my oldest daughter with her Crohn's Disease, and anyone else in my family with whatever might arise throughout the year.
Aside from all of that, I have been trying to decide what else I might want to throw into the mix that could add some smiles into the next 52 weeks. I really love blogging, but seem to struggle with being dedicated to one. So I've decided to start with this blog and work on being a more regular poster. I have created an Acrostic weekly meme to help out with that, to keep my writing going, and to keep this blog more regularly updated. I have always been a writer and have really struggled to keep my mind writing these past few years with so much stress. I took a couple of poetry courses online (to get out of the box of rhyming poetry), and fell in love with Acrostic poetry. I find it fun to try to write a poem with such a structure, like putting a poetry puzzle together. I really wish I could find more poets that use this form, so I am hoping that my weekly meme will attract a few writers to share.
As for the rest of my family, my oldest has decided to try to exercise more, my youngest wants to write more, and my husband has a few goals involving his favorite online game. I think we are all set for the new year! How about you? Any goals? Feel free to list your goals in the comments, or leave a link to your own blog post for me to check out. And don't forget to have a Happy New Year!

Monday, December 30, 2013

an acrostic monday: ink of my pen

I feel overwhelmed or
Not myself, or even a tad
Kooky- I grab my pen

On top of my desk to
Finalize through poem.

My tears or laughter are over
Yander, mingled amidst my words,

Paper scarred with marks and scribbles
Eternally mine and
Never forgotten.

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Thursday, December 26, 2013

what's in the air

I reach my hand out
into the air
and watch the blackness
absorb into my skin.
My fingertips turn black,
dying dead,
spreading up my arm
like a spiderweb.
I can soon feel
my heart skip a beat,
or two, or possibly
not beating at all.
My lips feel cold and blue
as if I am at Death's
heavy door.
I gasp for air,
my last breath surely,
as I pump the foaming soap.
I wash my hands
and wash again, and
once more for good measure.
The blackness fades,
my lips turn pink,
and my heart beats true 
once more.

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Christmas morning

Christmas morning
Frost in the air
Church bells ringing
Cherubs singing
Snowflakes everywhere

Written by K, Copyright 2013

happy holidays

With Christmas nearly upon us, I thought I'd take a moment today to wish all my readers a happy holiday season. I hope that you are able to nestle up closely with loved ones, eat delicious foods, and enjoy love and laughter within your warm home. Don't forget to add a dash of poetry along the way!

Monday, December 23, 2013

Christmas eve

Change of spirit
Roaming through our
Inner beings.
Sensitive of
The love we can
Amongst those around us,

Entertaining the
Very notion of
Eternal bliss.

Written by K, Copyright 2013

an acrostic monday: gifts

Gathering of loved ones
Intermingled with melodies
Fancy foods wafting as
Time stands

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Sunday, December 22, 2013

my december letter

Dear December,
     This is a tad early, but I felt like writing my letter with Christmas just around the corner. I know this is the month one should reflect upon all of the many blessings that swirl around our every days, but this month my heart has been in the palms of dreams made by the Sandman himself. I think this monthly letter will be about what I strive for the most, my Christmas wishes.
     Nestled in every nook and cranny of my body rests my strongest desire, my most wished for wish, healing. I wish for the healing of my daughter and for myself from the diseases that plague us. I wish my oldest daughter could be free of doctor appointments, colonoscopies, medications, infusions, aches and pains, and constipation. I wish that she would not know what it feels like to be on steroids and experience withdrawals. I wish that she could sit down to eat a meal without having so many food limitations. I wish that she would not have to spend so much of her days in the bathroom. I wish that she would have no painful secrets to swipe into hiding from others, and that she could grow throughout her childhood knowing what it is like to truly be a child. I wish my daughter to be healed from Crohn's Disease.
     I wish for the healing of myself, from my mind that torments me through OCD. I wish that I could walk freely amidst my home with my mind being able to accept that I will not be contaminated by some deadly germ. I wish that I could look at the people that I love without having terrible worries about their safety and wellbeing playing vividly through my mind. I wish that I could stop washing my hands and forearms before they crack and bleed. I wish that I could be free from the trappings of compulsive thoughts so that I can be a better mother and wife. But most of all, I wish for my own healing because it would give me a glimmer of hope that it was possible for my daughter.
     This month my mind has been infiltrated by the notion of true healing. This month my heart has gotten caught up in the spirit of Christmas miracles. This month my Christmas wish is healing.

David Trinidad's Rapunzel

This is one of my favorite poetry books. Not sure if I've mentioned it before on this blog, but I've been enjoying reading it this lovely Sunday. One poem that stuck out for me today was "Rapunzel" by David Trinidad. I love this book and how it brings fairytales to life, literally, adding a dose of reality to what we've always known to be so pretty and perfect. In David Trinidad's version of Rapunzel, she is not a pretty princess happily waiting in a tower for her prince to arrive; she is a young woman trapped in a tower with that pain and sorrow that infiltrates her life. My favorite line is the last few:
If only she'd say:
"Here, take this pair of scissors and cut your hair before it
twists into spaces between the bricks like vines." I'd slit my wrists.
It is a heavy ending to a poem, enlightening the readers to the true magnitude of what it could feel like being that beloved character, Rapunzel. I am always wearisome about sharing another's work on my blogs, but I did find somewhere online that is sharing this poem. Please click here to go and read this wonderful work and let me know what you think.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

the crypt stinks

The crypt stinks
of musty dust,
The glow of the moon
casting deformed
upon the coffin lid.
It's slowly pushed aside,
a hand that searches
for an escape it cannot

Written by K, Copyright 2013


Broken pieces
Amongst the carpet
Underneath the tree
Bleeding toes
Lights aglow
Evening time for tea

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Friday, December 20, 2013

angel ornament

Its dew drop shape
so elegant and smooth,
delicately painted
with precision.
Golden wings displayed
beside a flowing white dress.
Her eyes passionately closed
while her talented fingers
pluck the lute strings,
creating the soft tinklings
that dance around the tree.

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Thursday, December 19, 2013

lost progress

I can feel it rising
from the recesses of my brain
as it invades all parts
of my being, through to the bone.
That aching sensation of the need
to panic
to cry
at what lurks in my surroundings
until I am once again
where I started.

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

decorated tree

Dancing Lights
Emmenate around the
Cozy room as
Ornaments dangle from
Random prickling branches.
Atop the top sits
The star, calling
Everyone to see the
Dreamy magic

That encircles
Round about the evergreen,
Enticing hearts to be
Effervescently in harmony.

Written by K, Copyright 2013


Constantly on look
Out of mind in what ifs
Mantras rolling on loops
Persuading unsuccessfully
Underestimating the power of
Listless worries
Straining back tears of panic
Into an unsettled mind that
Ventures along the line of insanity
Enduring the inner conflict

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

The Thanksgiving Mouse

Ms. Fizz stood before the counter chopping up carrots and celery. Her knife moved fast over the cutting board as tiny pieces of veggies flew out around her. She blew a long gray curl from her face as she heard the faintest pitter-patter in the distance. She paused, tilted her head to be sure, then continued preparing her Thanksgiving meal.
           Ms. Fizz dragged the large cutting knife against the cutting board, brushing all of the beautiful vibrant colors into a pan and placed it on the stove top. The pattering of little tiny feet grew closer and closer, until she knew that he was right behind her. Knife still in hand the old woman leaped around in a circle displaying the craziest eyes she could fathom, scaring off the intruder.
          A muffled squeak blurted from the small mouse as it darted from the kitchen and into its mouse hole near the dining room table. Ms. Fizz smiled at her accomplishment and returned to the stove. She placed the knife on the counter as she took up an oven mitt and opened the oven to baste the turkey once again. The smell of the delicious plump turkey wafted through the house as the heat of the oven warmed her cheeks.
          Then came the tiny feet once again, pattering softly against the wooden floors.
          Ms. Fizz sighed deeply, hovering over the opened oven, waiting. She listened as the mouse moved closer and closer, until he was once again directly behind her, hoping to get some scraps. Ms. Fizz grinned the scariest grin she could imagine and slammed the oven door closed as she twirled around waving her hands out the side of her face like tentacles.
          The mouse squeaked louder than before and dashed off to the safety of his mouse hole.
          Ms. Fizz continued to cook. She glazed her carrots and baked some rolls. As she was mashing her potatoes she heard the mouse for the third time, sneaking his way back into the kitchen. She was sure he was going to try to steal some food this time! So, Ms. Fizz dipped her finger into the mashed potatoes and lathered it across her mouth and down her chin. She half closed her eyes and swirled around chanting “brains” to appear as though she had turned into a zombie.
          Ms. Fizz giggled a deep belly giggle as the mouse squealed several times and darted out of the kitchen to hide in his mouse hole. She was sure he didn’t want to become a zombie.
          Once all of Ms. Fizz’s Thanksgiving fixings were complete, she removed two plates from her cupboard. She piled potatoes and gravy as high as the plates would hold and nestled glazed carrots and celery right beside. She placed large slices of turkey on the plates, followed by several warm and buttered rolls. Ms. Fizz then carried one of the plates carefully to her dining room table and placed it on the end. She could see two tiny eyeballs watching her from within the dark mouse hole. She pretended not to notice and refrained from smiling at the persistent little mouse.
          Ms. Fizz returned to the kitchen and grabbed the second plate filled with delicious food and carried it back into the dining room. The mouse watched her carefully, afraid to be startled by her again. Ms. Fizz took the plate directly to the mouse hole and placed it on the floor for her guest.
          Once in her seat, Ms. Fizz began to enjoy the fruits of her labor as the tiny timid mouse came out of his mouse hole to feast upon a meal he had only dreamed of.

By K, Copyright 2013

Thursday, November 21, 2013

the young girl

The young girl sat, kneeling in the center of the frozen lake. The bottoms of her naked feet exposed to the chilling air as her toes began to turn blue. Her eyes widened as her long brown hair flew out and away from her neck. She hovered closer to the ice as her hands reached to swipe the freshly fallen snow from the surface.
Her eyes watered as the light beneath grew brighter and brighter, revealing all that she came to see. Maidens danced amidst the flowing waters, their toes pointed like small ballerinas. Their naked skin, the color of water itself, seemed silky smooth and almost translucent. She watched the maidens and their graceful movements as her heart began to ache. Tears streamed down her face leaving trails of bitter cold against her cheeks, until they broke free and landed softly against the ice.
The moment her tears pattered against the lake's surface, the maidens stopped twirling and were instantly touching the frozen surface from beneath. Their tiny hands, slightly misshapen with not enough fingers to count, taunted the young girl. Her soul ached for a different life as she looked over her shoulders one last time. She quickly closed her eyes tightly to hold back her despair, and blindly placed her right hand against the top of the frozen lake. Within moments the young girl felt water rushing through her hair and over her skin as she pointed her toes in unison.

by K, Copyright 2013

Wednesday, August 7, 2013


She stands still, raising her arms as the winds pick up, flailing her tousled and knotted hair behind her. Her lips part as a slur of words spill from her mouth, guttural and deep. Her skin is pale as dusk, her eyes ablaze with the color of fire as her words filter out and around the forest. The trees twist and turn, startled. Leaves begin to shake with the impact, rattling their warning for all who might hear. Branches snap; broken pieces falling to the earth. Birds scream as they flee her presence, desperate to escape. Then all is silent.

Written by K, Copyright 2013

Thursday, May 16, 2013

distraught and overwhelmed

Distraught and overwhelmed
with the loss of his missing love-
he has searched high and low
for days.
He heads into the forest to hunt,
an excuse to avoid the onlookers
and to cry in privacy.
Tears stream down his cheeks
as he calls out his endearing love
for her, who is now sheathed
in beautiful swan feathers, waddling
before him.
He raises his riffle and shoots, 
praying that she will show herself

by K, Copyright 2013

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

her red lips

Her red lips tighten,
frowning upon the old woman before her.
She can't decide if this woman
is worthy of her trust or not.
Finally, as always,
she gives in to the notion left by her father-
she focuses on the good within the old weary woman.
Come in, she tells the woman,
her red lips shifting into a smile.
After resting her tired feet,
the old woman wraps her worn cloak tighter
and sets off on her way, pausing
to offer a plump red apple in return.
The apple is graciously accepted.
After the old woman has left,
she rubs the apple with her fingers
and takes a delicious bite.
Before she can taste the sweetness of the fruit,
a bitter flavor invades her mouth.
The poisonous insect that is her stepmother
begins to bleed throughout her body,
dropping her to her knees.
Her breath quickly fades
until she is lying on the ground
waiting to be found, thinking
how delightful the old woman's company was.

by K, Copyright 2013

I quietly stand

I quietly stand in the middle of the pond
watching the water's movements.
Circles ripple out away from my body,
slowly, calmly, until it's as if I hadn't entered.
Soon the water's surface is broken
by several small sleek bodies,
slithering in all directions.
The sun reveals their translucent skin
and their eyes proclaim innocence.
Their tails flick the water playfully in my direction
as their slender bodies quickly delve
deeper into the pond, into the darkness,
once again unseen by the world.

by K, Copyright 2013

*As you can see, I've had mermaids in my mind today...


I dip my toes
into the salty sea,
feeling the water caressing my soles.
The day has finally come-
I am now thirteen years old.
I continue to sit on the edge of the pier
dangling my legs within the cool waters,
Waiting for what I have been anticipating
my whole life, waiting for this very moment.
Within seconds I feel my feet begin to fuse together,
The skin on my legs begin to split, like many tiny slits,
forming millions of shining scales from my waist down.
The sun glistens off my new form as my neck begins
My fingers fling to my neck, feeling gills that are too dry,
waiting for water.
I wiggle my body off the pier and into the sea,
ready to swim...

By K, Copyright 2013

my glass jar

My thoughts fill my mind
every hour of everyday-
some beautiful and golden,
basking in the light,
others from the darkest
corners of the globe,
provoked into existence.
These thoughts fleetingly whisk
from my mind, falling into
a bottomless glass jar
with no lid, always visible
and easily accessible.

by K, Copyright 2013

Sunday, May 12, 2013

I wander through

I wander through the
ancient chambers
lighted by the glow
of the moon,
my skin crawling with
ancient fears
that echo against
the stone walls
until I am finally
upon the crypt
shrouded in years of
legend and myth-
I slide the coffin lid
and climb in

by K, Copyright 2013

*This poem was completed using mostly my magnetic poetry sets.

Happy Mother's Day

I just wanted to wish all my mommy readers a Happy Mother's Day! I unfortunately have two little ladies at my house that are sick. My youngest has been battling croup this week, while my oldest is just starting to come down with the beginning phase of high fevers. So my motherhood is well at work lately, staying up all hours of the night tending to many bloody noses and trying to console my little ladies.
They did, however, give Dad some requests on gifts they wanted to give me for Mother's Day, in which he set out late last night to hunt them down...

My oldest has started a tradition of getting me blank lined books for writing, which I really love to recieve from her. I especially love the blue one, as I love birds. The red one is actually a lovely mauve pink color that just doesn't show up right in the picture. My youngest requested a special pen or pencil for me to write with. So I now have a very special pen that came in a beautiful box with a plate on the front engraved "I love you!", as well as an engraving on the pen "Happy Mother's Day". So then my hubby took it upon himself to create and engrave two plates himself, one for each of the books, engraved with "Happy Mother's Day" and "I love you!" for my oldest to give me. So I'd have to say that I got some pretty extra special gifts this year, and I am anxious to get my thoughts and imagination flowing onto the pages!
The first photo is one I took of an amaryllis flower a few years back, and the second is my lovely new gifts, taken today.

my motherhood

My motherhood flows
like a river
gliding and carefree
enjoying all the little moments
that make my center calm,
at peace, and right with the world.
The cold waters are refreshing,
fulfilling even, as I dissolve into
this world of constant
graceful movements that become
so natural, as if Destiny herself
has placed me head first
into this river, knowing it was mine.
Sometimes I am restless,
like a rushing rapid
out of control, my waves
crashing and destroying
as I am reminded that
there is no map, pamphlet,
or book that will withstand
these twists and turns
in the riverbed, as I allow
sharp rocks and twigs to
pierce me while I continue
on this path of my
everflowing, ever changing
journey of motherhood.

by K, Copyright 2013

*This poem was written in honor of Mother's Day, and to share what I cherrish most dear to me, my beautiful little ladies. This poem is also being shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry. The photo is one I took a few years ago, one that I always think is so precious...my two daughters lost in their own world of fun on a lovely sunny day.

Friday, May 10, 2013

haiku for Mars?

My lovely hubby came home from work the other day telling me I should write a haiku for Mars. I had no idea what he was talking about, and he seemed to not have much more details other than the fact that people can send a haiku to Mars. So I did a search online and found some more information that I thought I'd share on my blog for all of you haiku writers that so sweetly view my poems:
Send your haiku to Mars!
I do have a small stash of haiku poems on this blog that I've written, as I was really taken with writing them (until I was introduced to acrostic poetry, which just sent me in a different direction). I've been pondering a space appropriate haiku for a few days, wondering what I could come up with that I may submit to this Mars project. I have to admit, it doesn't seem as easy to not being limitted to just Earth, and having the whole expanse of the universe to write about! Which, of course, in all actuallity doesn't make sense. I will continue to think on this, determined to come up with one brilliant spacey Mars haiku. Let me know in the comments if you are planning to submit any haiku, I would love to hear! 

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

power of pain

I watch her writhing in pain
and screaming for my help
that I cannot give, choking back
my own tears of limitation.
Her words of broken faith
and torn dreams of life
mock me- leaving me empty
watching her true pain unfold
like an unwanted magic show.
My heart breaks as I try
to find a place within for this
unwanted knowledge that tortures,
leaving me nowhere to express
but through the ink of my pen.

by K, Copyright 2013

*This moment was written about a time when my oldest daughter was hospitalized due to Crohn's Disease. It was a moment for me that completely changed my life. It changed how I see, how I write, how I feel. She was hospitalized for a week and was in a terrible amount of pain that could not really be helped with pain meds due to the side effects of pain meds causing her even more problems with her Crohn's Disease. The photo was taken towards the end of her stay, of a ceiling tile that she painted once she started to feel a little better. Here is a photo of other ceiling tiles painted by other children in the GI ward of the childrens hospital:

I always get emotional when I see these photos and think of all the children that were there during that time, crying their own tears of pain, just as my daughter was. This poem was written this morning after reading Poets United prompt- poetry heals. I remember one night shortly after we returned home from this hospital visit, I awoke in the middle of the night overwhelmed with grief, and was soon after sitting in my bathroom with the door closed to not wake the rest of my family, writing out a poem that was interlocking with my sadness (which you can read here). It is true that poetry heals, for me, in the way that it allows me to connect and understand my own emotions and express them through my own writing.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

golden gates

by K, Copyright 2013

The boy raced along the broken stones trying to avoid the crumbling debris. He could see the golden artifact, heaven's gates, shining up ahead.

The floors continued to quake, crunching beneath the dragon's thunderous legs. Flames licked around the boy causing him to wince at the intense heat.

His fingertips grazed the artifact, pulling it into his grasp. He turned around to find the tip of the dragon's nose inches from his own; red eyes glaring down at him, as if they were on fire. The boy uttered the unspoken words, allowing the golden gates to transport him back home.

*This is a snippet of a story prompted by this three-minute fiction challenge. However, I will only be submitting it to velvet verbosity's post on this finders keepers prompt. I have to say, it was quite a challenge to shave down almost 400 words to 100 for velvet verbosity's 100 words requirement! But a challenge I enjoyed trying to make happen. 100 words exactly..finally!

my wintry home

Many homes I have had, lonely tears
Yearning to lay down roots

What my inner depths call home
Is not where I am, but where my soul
Nestled against snowy peaks in
The near distance, where my eyes could
Remain closed, but see the frozen beauty
Yet feel the warmth of the crisp white snow melting me

How my bones ache to feel that
Ominous chill against the skin on
My face and deep within my lungs
Evermore, my frozen fleeting Alaska

by K, Copyright 2013

*The plight of many military families, I'm sure. This poem is about my love for a place that I only had the blessings to live in for 4 years, and know that I will probably never have the opportunity to return. I took the photo while I lived in Alaska...it's beautiful mountains that I have much missed for many years.

Monday, May 6, 2013

there is a pirate in my pantry

Tossing and turning, awoken by a
Humming and singing, almost a chant
Emanating from somewhere, leaving me
Randomly searching for its source, until my
Ears guide me to my pantry door

I stand before the closed door, many odd
Sounds hidden behind, my curiosity peaks

Aprehension rises from within as I hesitate

Palms sweaty with nerves as I pull open the door
Indiscreetly ready to discover the culprit-
Right before my eyes stands a miniature,
Able-bodied pirate gathering up all of
The cookies and pastries I had stored to
Endulge in whenever I see fit.

It's mine! He hollars at me, drawing his
Nougat sword, waving it all around

My sweets! He adds, his uncovered eye twinkling
Yellow candies roll from his pockets, bouncing,

Pattering on the shelf as I attempt to
Answer this strange thwarty creature, his
Naked feet scampering around
To collect my favorite peanut butter treats
Rhymes and chants fling from his mouth as I
Yield my pantry to a goody thieving pirate

by K, Copyright 2013

*I decided to challenge myself tonight by coming up with a fun nonsensical sentence and trying to create an acrostic poem around it. What do you think, a success? Or just down right silly? I'd have to say down right silly...but fun.

Sunday, May 5, 2013


Tableau unfolding before me
Heralding a new season
Each person anxious for the future
And what it may bring
The chatter quiets as all are
Enchanted by the scene, actors
Relaying tales of hope, otherwise unseen

by K, Copyright 2013

*Another poem inspired by my reading of Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes, by Edith Hamilton. I have been reading the section on Dionysus and found the idea of the festivals that were thrown in his honor to be so magical and fascinating. Here is a quote:

"It was in a theater; and the ceremony was the performance of a play. The greatest poetry in Greece, and among the greatest in the world, was written for Dionysus. The poets who wrote the plays, the actors and singers who took part in them, were all regarded as servants of the god."

I've always thought the idea of play performances during early times in history must have been something so amazing to behold. For some reason, I just always think how much fun it would have been to be in an audience and watch one of these ancient plays, written in Greece, or by even Shakespeare, unfold before me. This festival for Dionysus sounds like it would have been just magical! 

Saturday, May 4, 2013


Silence dancing
Over my ears
Noiseless verse
Gracious tears

by K, Copyright 2013

Friday, May 3, 2013


Plundering ancient ships, sailing
Into a life of greed
Reaping chests of gold and jewels
Amid drinking barrels of mead
Taking lives, lost at sea
Exiled from land, their personal creed
Singing their songs while all others flee

by K, Copyright 2013

*Inspired by watching Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean with my daughters last weekend...and that spunky Jack Sparrow.

Scorched Memories

by K, Copyright 2011

I stand silently, my eyes closed tight, remembering. This place was a safe haven, a dream. This place will forever be remembered for its powerful healing touch. I will remember how the rocks felt beneath my feet, how the grass swayed in the breeze. I will remember the nearby oak giving me shade to drink in my surroundings. I will remember the two birds that always seemed to twitter from deep within the branches, lost to my sight, but seen with my soul. But most of all, I will remember the pond...

I nestled myself upon the grass, feeling several stray blades tickling my belly button. I instantly felt the earth beneath cool me from the heat of the day. My barefeet took turns rising and falling back into the grass, my pigtails falling around my face as I lowered my chin into my hands. My brown eyes widened with delight as the water before my face began to brighten and shine from below. Small movements darted from here to there, until my eyes adjusted to the beauty, revealing the small mermaids. Their slim, slippery bodies were as agile as any fish I had seen, and no larger than a koi. Their tales glistened with intricate designs that seemed to glide upon their scales. Their long hair trailed behind them as they swam, some blue, some white, some red. I couldn't take my eyes off them. I was entranced everytime. One or two would slowly swim in circles until they were just beneath the water's surface, smiling in such a way that melted my heart. I could feel their magic radiating from them, rising from the water like steam from a cup of coffee. I knew they were magic, the sight of them made me forget all my troubles. They made me forget everything.
After my absence was noticed, my mother would call for me in the distance. Before leaving, I would skim the water with my fingertips, my attempt to communicate with these creatures, other than with my locked eyes. Once my fingers stroked the moving water, the ripples circled outward, causing the scene to disappear until my next visit.

Now here I am again, after many years away. Upon opening my eyes, I am battered once again with the scene before me that made me close them in the first place. I am no longer standing upon lush green grass. I look down to me feet, my boots planted firmly against dry cracked earth, blackened. My eyes wander, taking in the skeletons of trees, twisted and bent in unatural positions. Ash. Ash everywhere, leaving a layer of sooty history. No water in sight. The pond is now nothing, leftovers. This place holds sorrow and death, and endings. My heart aches for what it use to be, for that magic that I use to prance to, that touch that enfolded me in my younger days. I turn away from this scorched place, now foriegn to me. I try to shake the image from my mind, but it stays, leaking, contaminating my memories. My new unwanted companion.

A Love Song

by K, Copyright 2011

The wind bit her nose so roughly that she thought it might be blood drizzling down from her nostrils rather than a simple chill-induced runny nose. She reached up with her fingers, swiping just above her upper lip. She swiped again, unsure that she actually made contact. The numbness of her face prevented the feel of her cold, rough fingertips. Seeing nothing on her fingers satisfied her as she returned to her task at hand. Her grip around the handle slipped frequently as she continued to force the head of the shovel into the raw frozen earth. Cracking noises shattered the peaceful night as the moon hid silently behind a cloud. She shifted her feet, almost bringing herself to the ground. Her naked feet felt like blocks of ice, unwilling to move, unwilling to cooperate. She instinctively tossed the shovel aside and reached down, clawing at the tops of her feet, a scream rising in her throat with no escape. She fell to her knees and began frantically digging at the earth with her own fingers. The frustration of her slow progress tormented her mind. She dropped her hands out of exhaustion, raising her head up to the moon just as it exposed itself once again. Her festering pain continued to rise within, seeking desparately to be released. She opened her chapped mouth ready to succomb to the wailing and keening as a hand grabbed her shoulder. The light shake of this grasp froze her pain and sorrow, shaking it down into the depths, to resurface another day. She turned to see a familiar face, contorted in shock. She looked down to see her own nakedness, tinted blue for the sleeping world to see. A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders as she carefully rose to her feet. She took one last glimpse of the wooden cross that protruded from the earth like a pockmark upon a face. She slowly followed away from where she longed to be, noticing flesh and dirt caked beneath her finger nails, and the taste of blood upon her lips.

The Box

by K, Copyright 2011

She awoke, startled, sweat dripping from her forehead. She heard it again, calling. The winds whispered her name, calling her from the house. She got out of bed, her cold feet landing against the wooden planks. She grabbed her silk robe from the bedpost, wrapping it around her body. She promised herself tonight she would follow.
Soon she was standing before the wooded forest just beyond the neighboring houses. She could hear the whispers, she could feel a presence. The wind wisped through her hair, nipping her nose. She thought she could even smell it.
Her bare feet inched foreward, snapping twigs beneath them. She no longer could feel the pricks and pokes of nature’s debris beneath each step. Her mind was so fixated upon the whispers, the callings. Her heart pounded so loudly she almost had to strain to follow the noises, almost. She continue to walk through the forest. The darkness cloaked the night all around her, the tall trees blocking out the colors of the moon. She eventually found herself looking down upon a wooden box. It shook and rattled against the damp ground. She fell to her knees, knowing the calls that tormented her sleep were coming from within.
She ran her fingers over the beautifully carved box, feeling the grooves of a chiseled masterpiece. She wondered whose craft had created such a box. There were mermaids and griffins, and angels with lutes. She could hear the tinkling now from the magical fingertips against the lute strings. It soothed her racing heart. She touched the lutes carved upon the box, feeling the vibration of the strings, the movements of the tiny talented fingers. She closed her eyes, feeling as though the majestic nature of the box was entering her soul, and slightly tugging her closer.
She tugged on the metal latch, perplexed that it didn’t budge. She tugged again, and again. Nothing happened. The box would not open. She looked around her out of desperation. She had to get the box open.
As her eyes scanned her surrounding, she saw a small golden key on a red ribbon, dangling from a tree branch. She quickly got to her feet to retrieve it and was back on her knees to unlock the magic box. She found no key hole on the latch and cried out to the night in frustration. She tugged and tugged on the latch until the carvings on the lid of the box began to change and shift. Where there once had been a beautiful mermaid beneath a sea and charming angels in the sky, there was a dragon. His scales felt rough to the touch, and smoke rose from his nostrils into the air before her. She watched this dragon slither on the box, wiggling his long body as if trying to find comfort. Once it settled, the dragon’s face turned to stare, opening his large fearsome mouth. She could feel his breath, smell the stench from within his belly. The dragon’s long tongue rolled out of his mouth and remained frozen like a real wooden box should be.
She stared at this dragon’s tongue, frozen in time as if awaiting her action. She instinctively placed the golden key upon the tongue and jumped in surprised as the tongue rolled back up into the dragon’s mouth, key, ribbon, and all. The dragon blew steam and fire out of

his nostrils just before the lid of the wooden box flew open.

turn the page

Today at the library
Under the cover of a book
Racing through the pages
Nestled in a nook

There sat a lovely fairy
Her hair so long and brown
Elegant flowers worn as a crown

Pansies graced her body
As their smell soothed my nose
Gossamer wings fluttered
Entering my world as she rose

by K, Copyright 2013

*Inspired from a day at the library with my daughters...

Wednesday, May 1, 2013


Listlessly rocking, keening
Against the rocks
Memories flooding
Engulfing her while she watches
Nymphs swarming, slithering
Through the waves
As waters rush aboard
The ship, his ship
Insensible, the scene before her
Offensive waters pulling him down
Never to be seen again

by K, Copyright 2013

*I would not speak my truth if I was not to express that there have been many times throughout the past several years that I have struggled to hear my own voice and have failed to understand who I am, amidst the chaotic sorrow that floods through our house due to one of my daughters being diagnosed with a chronic disease. This poem was written for Poets United prompt an authentic life.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013


Pallid beauty
Engaged upon the Earth
Rousing the lands and
Sharing her inner mirth
Exempt from death until
Perpetual death grasps hold
Hades pulling her down beneath
Once Summer turns cold
Never again to be seen
Except on Spring's threshold

by K, Copyright 2013

*I've been thoroughly enjoying the mythology book I've been reading lately, especially taken with Demeter and Persephone. Maybe it is the mother in me?

Click to view some amazing art I've found on the web:
Hades abducting Persephone

Here are two quotes (and my thoughts) that I have loved, pertaining to Persephone and her mother, Demeter, from Mythology: Timeless tales of Gods and Heroes by Edith Hamilton:

"But all the while Persephone knew how brief that beauty was; fruits, flowers, leaves, all the fair growth of the earth, must end with the coming of the cold and pass like herself into the power of death. After the lord of the dark world below carried her away she was never again the gay young creature who had played in the flowery meadow without a thought of care or trouble. She did indeed rise from the dead every spring, but she brought with her the memory of where she had come from..."

I think that quote is true for all who have suffered in their life. Those who have struggled and truly suffered have been to a place where many haven't. They may once again find themselves in the "normal" world, but they bring with them those memories that cause them to see what others can't.

"The Olympians were "the happy gods", "the death-less gods", far removed from suffering mortals destined to die. But in their grief and hour of death, men could turn for compassion to the goddess who sorrowed and the goddess who died."

What a thought! A god or goddess who has experienced what immortals do, amidst all the other gods who are destined to never fully understand or comprehend the magnitude of such an experience.

Sunday, April 28, 2013



by K, Copyright 2013


Vivacious flowers arranged beautifully
Among the dinner plates tonight
Sweet smells wafting across the table
Entangling my senses just right

by K, Copyright 2013

*This was written last night after viewing the beautiful flowers my daughters both recieved after their dance recital from Daddy. They are a wonderful addition to our dinner table...
This poem is also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry, please click here to view the other poems being shared by other poets this week.

Saturday, April 27, 2013


Daughters twirling
And swirling on stage
Nothing matters in that moment
Caught in my heart-
Endless for all time

by K, Copyright 2013

*My daughters had a dance recital this weekend, and my favorite part is watching and recording them during their dress rehearsal. Everytime that moment comes I am filled with so much joy at seeing them perform something so magical and beautiful that they've worked so hard on for so many months...it brings tears to my eyes. I love watching them put so much effort into something so special and watching their happiness unfold at being able to accomplish something they've set their minds to. Those are the little things, the moments to cherish and remember.

Thursday, April 25, 2013


Remission is hopeful
Even through the pain
Many tears and needle pokes
In the arms of
And the hearts of parents
Destined to
End in... peace

by K, Copyright 2013

*This was inspired by one of our many trip to the Childrens Hospital for my oldest to recieve her Remicade Infusions. This photo was taken during one of her infusions.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


Voices of our Earth
Inscribed upon our surroundings
Bursting from a family's hearth
Rising from beneath the waters
Angelic chirps from hopping crickets
To rustling leaves upon the breeze
In the prickers of the thickets
Orange fat fruits high in the trees
Noises of our Earth hold strong
Singing a beautiful, original song

by K, Copyright 2013

*This poem was written in response to Poets United word prompt voices.

Monday, April 22, 2013

earth day

Around us and
Rushing beneath our feet
The presence of our planet
Hastily awaits to meet

Dances upon the dirt
And across your skin
Your forever, lifelong friend

by K, Copyright 2013

Saturday, April 20, 2013

an epic poem?

I've always been a writer, short stories mostly. But with the way my mind is constantly drained these past few years, I have stories dancing within, but no concentration or energy to get them down on paper. I was thinking last night about how poetry seems to be my outlet now, as opposed to traditional story writing, and wondered if putting my stories into poetry is something I could give a try. So my mind wandered, grandly, to epic poems, and wondered...could I?
So I did a little searching and realized I completely don't understand the form that was explained for traditional epics, no matter how many times I read about it on different sites. So that would be out the door. But then I stumbled upon the 9 muses in Greek mythology, and was instantly intruiged beyond turning back. Every site I searched on how to write an epic poem included the step of invoking one of the 9 muses (mostly suggesting Calliope, the muse of epic poetry). However, I was entranced when I stumbled upon Melpomene, the Greek muse of tragedy (as I most love tragic stories). My breath was taken away once I started searching over statues of Melpomene, seeing how beautiful they were, and how amazingly eerie her mask looked. How magnificent!
The thought of invoking a muse to help my poetry flow leaves my mind and fingers tingling.
Now...I need to think.