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
soon.

by K, Copyright 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...

13

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.
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,
tingling.
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
burning.
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

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.



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! 

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.

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.

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.

theater

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! 

song

Silence dancing
Over my ears
Noiseless verse
Gracious tears

by K, Copyright 2013

pirates

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...

lamentation

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.