Submissions by Heaven_sent_Kathy
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Jun 2019 1:42am
4th Jun 2019 1:42am
Sundowner
( after Sharon Olds )
The days have been passing by
endless, or so it seems to me.
I have all the time in the world,
but not for myself. As one’s powers
ebb and slow to a sluggish creep,
until I discover a curious
self-satisfaction of autonomy:
not obligated to givIng reasons
for those who expect answers to
placate a guilty conscience
when it’s my business.
Like one’s mother, who has now
taken what seems is a final turn.
Not able to walk. In a special bed
with...
The days have been passing by
endless, or so it seems to me.
I have all the time in the world,
but not for myself. As one’s powers
ebb and slow to a sluggish creep,
until I discover a curious
self-satisfaction of autonomy:
not obligated to givIng reasons
for those who expect answers to
placate a guilty conscience
when it’s my business.
Like one’s mother, who has now
taken what seems is a final turn.
Not able to walk. In a special bed
with...
#mother
#sun
#MentalHealth #daughter
#MentalHealth #daughter
811 reads
11 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st May 2019 3:51am
21st May 2019 3:51am
Sloop Clearwater (what one person started)
( Pete Seeger )
On the Hudson River, New York
the graceful silhouette
of a familiar sloop
passes onlookers who recall
a time when the river was filled
with waste and toxic runoff,
when nothing
and no one was safe
in or near its sluggish water
filled with
trash and human feces.
Pete Seeger, folk singer,
activist,
who watched the Hudson
peacefully flow by
for hours
atop his Beacon home
he and his wife Toshi built.
Kneeling on the shore,
one day, Pete put his hand
in...
On the Hudson River, New York
the graceful silhouette
of a familiar sloop
passes onlookers who recall
a time when the river was filled
with waste and toxic runoff,
when nothing
and no one was safe
in or near its sluggish water
filled with
trash and human feces.
Pete Seeger, folk singer,
activist,
who watched the Hudson
peacefully flow by
for hours
atop his Beacon home
he and his wife Toshi built.
Kneeling on the shore,
one day, Pete put his hand
in...
#earth
#environment
#pollution
#animals
#fish
685 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th May 2019 11:47pm
16th May 2019 11:47pm
Gypsy
He’s half from Buda, other half from Pest,
My great-grandad, a carpenter of chairs.
The craftier in his blood would use the best,
The gypsy in his soul sang for his fares.
When hard times hit, his mother passed away,
He joined the Army, tending to the sick.
He saved to paint his cart, the dead to raise,
To trail the troops as they marched off to war.
That first year he was gone, he fell in love,
While bandaging a soldier’s bloody head.
Her name was Hanna, going camp to camp;
She’d found her brother on the List of Dead.
...
My great-grandad, a carpenter of chairs.
The craftier in his blood would use the best,
The gypsy in his soul sang for his fares.
When hard times hit, his mother passed away,
He joined the Army, tending to the sick.
He saved to paint his cart, the dead to raise,
To trail the troops as they marched off to war.
That first year he was gone, he fell in love,
While bandaging a soldier’s bloody head.
Her name was Hanna, going camp to camp;
She’d found her brother on the List of Dead.
...
#love
#family
#war #death
#war #death
688 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
5th May 2019 4:33am
5th May 2019 4:33am
Changing Spots
A walk in the park
Now wouldn’t that be nice.
The morning shows
A promise, a pact
With the sun —
Today is the day.
I stand wistfully
Looking on like a grave
Through the window,
A warmth radiates
But I keep
Alone to myself.
This one’s always hard
The days I think I can,
Anxiety
It’s all in my head,
Still I try
At changing my spots.
A hand on the knob
To open the front door,
I bow my head
My eyes slowly close
As I pray,
And stay where I am.
Now wouldn’t that be nice.
The morning shows
A promise, a pact
With the sun —
Today is the day.
I stand wistfully
Looking on like a grave
Through the window,
A warmth radiates
But I keep
Alone to myself.
This one’s always hard
The days I think I can,
Anxiety
It’s all in my head,
Still I try
At changing my spots.
A hand on the knob
To open the front door,
I bow my head
My eyes slowly close
As I pray,
And stay where I am.
#home
#sun
#SelfReflection #emptiness
#SelfReflection #emptiness
579 reads
9 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
30th Apr 2019 4:55pm
30th Apr 2019 4:55pm
Come Stroll The Moonlight
( before we fly home )
Come, attend us,
dear sisters & daughters!
Come stroll the moonlight
along tide waters!
Let’s gaily walk the
promenade beaches
Of the tide-swept
shorelines’ coastal reaches.
How they shine with
Luna’s opal blessings!
We’re lovely in our
scarves of evening mist,
Swept up off our necks
like black swans adrift.
And seashell bangles,
dangling, play a tune
That sound like bubbles
surfacing to swoon...
Aaaaahhhh
...
Come, attend us,
dear sisters & daughters!
Come stroll the moonlight
along tide waters!
Let’s gaily walk the
promenade beaches
Of the tide-swept
shorelines’ coastal reaches.
How they shine with
Luna’s opal blessings!
We’re lovely in our
scarves of evening mist,
Swept up off our necks
like black swans adrift.
And seashell bangles,
dangling, play a tune
That sound like bubbles
surfacing to swoon...
Aaaaahhhh
...
#love
#friendship
#sea #NaPoWriMo2019
#sea #NaPoWriMo2019
612 reads
11 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
29th Apr 2019 3:59pm
29th Apr 2019 3:59pm
Les & Dug... and Mary Ford
( Prompt #16 )
There was always the player
of songs in his head, the worm
who had crawled out from
under the dead, of a concert
gone ballistic back in the States.
He’d passed out to a riff, a
duet to a banana clip,
in a pool of a Cuervo dream
that screamed in its stupor
as the worm tossed & writhed;
was baptized, down for the count.
But then, he slowly came to;
it was dark and he couldn’t tell,
nor who he was, what place
was this, why was it so cold.
He groaned. He felt so...
There was always the player
of songs in his head, the worm
who had crawled out from
under the dead, of a concert
gone ballistic back in the States.
He’d passed out to a riff, a
duet to a banana clip,
in a pool of a Cuervo dream
that screamed in its stupor
as the worm tossed & writhed;
was baptized, down for the count.
But then, he slowly came to;
it was dark and he couldn’t tell,
nor who he was, what place
was this, why was it so cold.
He groaned. He felt so...
#dreams
#music
#alcohol
#NaPoWriMo2019
#DeepUndergroundPoetry
555 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Apr 2019 10:05am
28th Apr 2019 10:05am
Coming Of Age: Notes of an Online Journal
Coming Of Age”
Back then I was
diminutive and dainty,
was I not;
when you first
laid hands,
softer than
a living man’s,
upon this gypsy
olive skin.
Unsullied
of any other,
and had no words
no sight, heard
not a sound,
appearing
in dreams,
and then awoke.
Each bird songs’ note
of morning trill,
was parch’d
when sunrise
bore passage
of myself
into unholiness
with the Lord.
Not from on high,
that sees
and knows all,
what...
Back then I was
diminutive and dainty,
was I not;
when you first
laid hands,
softer than
a living man’s,
upon this gypsy
olive skin.
Unsullied
of any other,
and had no words
no sight, heard
not a sound,
appearing
in dreams,
and then awoke.
Each bird songs’ note
of morning trill,
was parch’d
when sunrise
bore passage
of myself
into unholiness
with the Lord.
Not from on high,
that sees
and knows all,
what...
#childhood
#abuse
#dreams
#oppression
#NaPoWriMo2019
452 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Apr 2019 10:48pm
27th Apr 2019 10:48pm
Return: Notes of an Online Journal
Return”
I find a moment’s peace sublime
While walking in the sea wind’s cold,
Where here I lose the sense of time
That had me bound in chains of old.
In grey before a morning’s gold,
I find a moment’s peace sublime.
In spite the tales of sirens told,
The ocean offers up its rhyme.
I turn to face the Maker’s prime,
As breakers come to welcome me.
I find a moment’s peace sublime,
And go to where I’m meant to be.
For all the rest I’ll give for this,
To cease the struggle of the climb. ...
I find a moment’s peace sublime
While walking in the sea wind’s cold,
Where here I lose the sense of time
That had me bound in chains of old.
In grey before a morning’s gold,
I find a moment’s peace sublime.
In spite the tales of sirens told,
The ocean offers up its rhyme.
I turn to face the Maker’s prime,
As breakers come to welcome me.
I find a moment’s peace sublime,
And go to where I’m meant to be.
For all the rest I’ll give for this,
To cease the struggle of the climb. ...
#sea
#wind
#God
#heaven
#NaPoWriMo2019
469 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Apr 2019 10:38pm
27th Apr 2019 10:38pm
Ghostly Haunt: Notes of an Online Journal
Ghostly Haunt
When Quiet drones the night, its ghostly haunt,
Where I may seek the reverence of prayer.
‘Tis nothing short of heaven has me daunt,
Unveiling thus to find there’s nothing there.
Caress the open wound, it beckons on,
When Quiet drones the night, its ghostly haunt.
Such peace unknown, belies a spirit wan,
As gradually, there is no Will to flaunt.
Yet even in the mist, so does it taunt,
Its shadow neigh reveals where it has gone.
When Quiet drones the night, its ghostly haunt,
Each raven flies a...
When Quiet drones the night, its ghostly haunt,
Where I may seek the reverence of prayer.
‘Tis nothing short of heaven has me daunt,
Unveiling thus to find there’s nothing there.
Caress the open wound, it beckons on,
When Quiet drones the night, its ghostly haunt.
Such peace unknown, belies a spirit wan,
As gradually, there is no Will to flaunt.
Yet even in the mist, so does it taunt,
Its shadow neigh reveals where it has gone.
When Quiet drones the night, its ghostly haunt,
Each raven flies a...
#night
#shadows
#spiritual
#ghosts
#NaPoWriMo2019
416 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
26th Apr 2019 3:33am
26th Apr 2019 3:33am
Rapture: Notes of an Online Journal
Rapture”
As gravitation muscles flex,
Draws in the vice of cranium,
Its barometric pull and stretch,
Cylindrical of warpage deep.
This conflagration witch’s hex,
Repeats each minute vehement.
To have me roll my eyes and weep,
Confound and force my river spent.
Release this curse, I utter now;
We are the worshipers that bend.
Before the storm, let go the gate,
The deluge of the rapture send!
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
As gravitation muscles flex,
Draws in the vice of cranium,
Its barometric pull and stretch,
Cylindrical of warpage deep.
This conflagration witch’s hex,
Repeats each minute vehement.
To have me roll my eyes and weep,
Confound and force my river spent.
Release this curse, I utter now;
We are the worshipers that bend.
Before the storm, let go the gate,
The deluge of the rapture send!
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
#storm
#spiritual
#NaPoWriMo2019
413 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Apr 2019 00:22am
25th Apr 2019 00:22am
Snapped: Notes of an Online Journal
Snapped"
Over the holiday weekend,
A mega marathon non-stop.
Three days of “Snapped” I plan to spend
To watch betrayal till I drop.
From Friday morn’ to Sunday night
I pop some corn and stuff my face.
How those that kill knew wrong from right
By smoking gun, has my heart race.
Though true, it tends to fascinate,
Leaned to the screen in sleepless rife,
I ate too much and now I'll hate
Popcorn for the rest of my life.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2019
Over the holiday weekend,
A mega marathon non-stop.
Three days of “Snapped” I plan to spend
To watch betrayal till I drop.
From Friday morn’ to Sunday night
I pop some corn and stuff my face.
How those that kill knew wrong from right
By smoking gun, has my heart race.
Though true, it tends to fascinate,
Leaned to the screen in sleepless rife,
I ate too much and now I'll hate
Popcorn for the rest of my life.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2019
#murder
#food
#insomnia #NaPoWriMo2019
#insomnia #NaPoWriMo2019
460 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Apr 2019 10:36am
23rd Apr 2019 10:36am
With No Other: Notes of an Online Journal
With No Other”
I give in to the time that is left.
Let me lay with you, my mother.
Let me see the stain and hold your breath
These few minutes with no other.
As I watch your eyes of cataracts
With the thoughts I cannot discern,
Why we didn't know each other then,
And never had the chance to learn.
We were both brought close again to burn.
I’m alive with you just as when,
With your silent words you hide a yearn,
You would make it happen again.
The trees are naked of leaves and hawks, ...
I give in to the time that is left.
Let me lay with you, my mother.
Let me see the stain and hold your breath
These few minutes with no other.
As I watch your eyes of cataracts
With the thoughts I cannot discern,
Why we didn't know each other then,
And never had the chance to learn.
We were both brought close again to burn.
I’m alive with you just as when,
With your silent words you hide a yearn,
You would make it happen again.
The trees are naked of leaves and hawks, ...
#mother
#daughter
#NaPoWriMo2019
565 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Heaven_sent_Kathy
