Submissions by Heaven_sent_Kathy
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Apr 2019 9:35pm
22nd Apr 2019 9:35pm
Cycle: Notes of an Online Journal
Cycle”
With the tread a blur
When I pump the pedals ‘round,
And the gentle whir
As I cycle through the town
This dark early morn’
In a fog of muted sound,
Distant thoughts forlorn,
Tiny glimpses lost and found.
Shades of slate surround
All the colors of the past,
Haunt a battleground
Where my fate in Time is cast.
Never mind, I say,
In a caution that I rasp,
Back to where someday
When my journey ends at last.
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
With the tread a blur
When I pump the pedals ‘round,
And the gentle whir
As I cycle through the town
This dark early morn’
In a fog of muted sound,
Distant thoughts forlorn,
Tiny glimpses lost and found.
Shades of slate surround
All the colors of the past,
Haunt a battleground
Where my fate in Time is cast.
Never mind, I say,
In a caution that I rasp,
Back to where someday
When my journey ends at last.
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
#morning
#SelfReflection
#NaPoWriMo2019
444 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Apr 2019 6:04pm
21st Apr 2019 6:04pm
Prayers: Notes of an Online Journal
Prayers”
Another night’s pall of velvet veils
settles and finds me out,
apologetically.
Always startles, in its gentle,
misty whispered gasp, and
downcast hollowness.
Breaking into my thoughts as I
say my evening prayers, to
find I’ve gone quiet.
The mantle clock needs winding.
I think of my guest as a ‘she’,
that timidly drifts and hovers,
listening at my shoulder.
She’s curious and,
like me, she’s lonely.
Her sadness is palpable,
and so is mine.
...
Another night’s pall of velvet veils
settles and finds me out,
apologetically.
Always startles, in its gentle,
misty whispered gasp, and
downcast hollowness.
Breaking into my thoughts as I
say my evening prayers, to
find I’ve gone quiet.
The mantle clock needs winding.
I think of my guest as a ‘she’,
that timidly drifts and hovers,
listening at my shoulder.
She’s curious and,
like me, she’s lonely.
Her sadness is palpable,
and so is mine.
...
#dreams
#night
#FreeVerse
#sleep
#NaPoWriMo2019
536 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
20th Apr 2019 6:35pm
20th Apr 2019 6:35pm
Clear As Mother’s Milk: Notes of an Online Journal
Clear As Mother’s Milk”
On the questionable rites of childbirth,
Of the numerous issues oft’ quoted.
For the women who rate, albeit, worth,
Needn’t worry on how I have voted.
Simply stated, the way life is fated;
All my choices, concerns, formal noted.
Like the Forces that be, annotated,
With assurances scribed, sugar-coated.
Let it be, forthwith signed, duly dated,
On the practices I am devoted.
How much more red tape is there created
That have edited words and promoted.
When will be, forward...
On the questionable rites of childbirth,
Of the numerous issues oft’ quoted.
For the women who rate, albeit, worth,
Needn’t worry on how I have voted.
Simply stated, the way life is fated;
All my choices, concerns, formal noted.
Like the Forces that be, annotated,
With assurances scribed, sugar-coated.
Let it be, forthwith signed, duly dated,
On the practices I am devoted.
How much more red tape is there created
That have edited words and promoted.
When will be, forward...
#children
#politics
#HumanRights
#inequality
#NaPoWriMo2019
444 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Apr 2019 2:02pm
19th Apr 2019 2:02pm
We Played Chicken: Notes of an Online Journal
We Played Chicken”
There once was a long time before,
When the world was closed off to me.
With each day I’m forgetting more
Of just a while when I was free.
The only boy that I would know,
Who knew how to get close, to be
A devil and also angel
To my heart inside he could see.
I’d read poetry when I could,
The classics of being in love.
We hid in a shed with the wood,
The loft shedding pigeons above.
We spent afternoons chasing cars.
I’d lie together in his arms.
We stayed...
There once was a long time before,
When the world was closed off to me.
With each day I’m forgetting more
Of just a while when I was free.
The only boy that I would know,
Who knew how to get close, to be
A devil and also angel
To my heart inside he could see.
I’d read poetry when I could,
The classics of being in love.
We hid in a shed with the wood,
The loft shedding pigeons above.
We spent afternoons chasing cars.
I’d lie together in his arms.
We stayed...
#love
#death
#FallingInLove
#FirstLove
#NaPoWriMo2019
465 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Apr 2019 3:47pm
18th Apr 2019 3:47pm
Twilight: Notes of an Online Journal
Twilight"
As the sun is golden
near the twilight,
the seeds
were planted
before I was born,
and were nudging
to the surface
with each day.
I couldn’t tell,
I didn’t feel a thing
not even that
called ‘growing pains’,
when you’re
too young to know
and too
self-absorbed.
When the brain only
knows what you need
as the days
come and go,
and the sprouts start
to tickle their way
to the top.
Then one day
the rush begins,
and you find yourself ...
As the sun is golden
near the twilight,
the seeds
were planted
before I was born,
and were nudging
to the surface
with each day.
I couldn’t tell,
I didn’t feel a thing
not even that
called ‘growing pains’,
when you’re
too young to know
and too
self-absorbed.
When the brain only
knows what you need
as the days
come and go,
and the sprouts start
to tickle their way
to the top.
Then one day
the rush begins,
and you find yourself ...
#childhood
#dreams
#LifeCycle #NaPoWriMo2019
#LifeCycle #NaPoWriMo2019
529 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
17th Apr 2019 9:08pm
17th Apr 2019 9:08pm
I’m Not Alone: Notes of an Online Journal
I’m Not Alone”
In my walks I chase blue skies at night
When the living of day go inside.
In the hopes it was fantasy’s flight,
And the evening, when I come alive.
And my every care gone with the sun
As the cool air of dusk starts to spin.
With a soft touch of breezes undone
That exhale hyacinth I breathe in.
All about the stars wheel thru’ the trees
Linking hands in a park on my own.
Rustled whisper of tender new leaves
To remind me that I’m not alone.
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
In my walks I chase blue skies at night
When the living of day go inside.
In the hopes it was fantasy’s flight,
And the evening, when I come alive.
And my every care gone with the sun
As the cool air of dusk starts to spin.
With a soft touch of breezes undone
That exhale hyacinth I breathe in.
All about the stars wheel thru’ the trees
Linking hands in a park on my own.
Rustled whisper of tender new leaves
To remind me that I’m not alone.
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
#loneliness
#stars
#night #NaPoWriMo2019
#night #NaPoWriMo2019
507 reads
11 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Apr 2019 7:31am
17th Apr 2019 7:31am
Drowning: Notes of an Online Journal
Drowning”
I’m sensing a pitch of motion
While out in the hall pulling watch,
I sit surrounded by ocean
As the deck crawls in drowning moths.
There’s a storm front over the bed;
Our mothers cower beneath it.
A migraine is stalled in my head,
Focused on numbing bereavement.
The course of events is unknown,
An unseen barrage colder still.
The others are gathered like clones
A whole other place for the kill.
I know that the doctor is here,
He’s talking downstairs on the phone.
There’s no need for...
I’m sensing a pitch of motion
While out in the hall pulling watch,
I sit surrounded by ocean
As the deck crawls in drowning moths.
There’s a storm front over the bed;
Our mothers cower beneath it.
A migraine is stalled in my head,
Focused on numbing bereavement.
The course of events is unknown,
An unseen barrage colder still.
The others are gathered like clones
A whole other place for the kill.
I know that the doctor is here,
He’s talking downstairs on the phone.
There’s no need for...
#family
#MentalHealth
#nightmares
#NaPoWriMo2019
#ghosts
451 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Apr 2019 3:11am
16th Apr 2019 3:11am
Freckles: Notes of an Online Journal
Freckles”
Whenever I finish a poem,
I’m amazed, bewildered
so I vicariously,
hardly phased, want to
pull on my hair, even
yank it out when I
read what I’d just done,
that’s not fair.
But my father
always said
“Life is not fair”
and left it at that.
What is it that makes me;
what was it this time...
not enough rhyme?
The peasant blouse I wore,
that had to be it:
with hand-stitching
of birds and blossoms
across the
entice of a bosom’s
seasonal rite?
...
Whenever I finish a poem,
I’m amazed, bewildered
so I vicariously,
hardly phased, want to
pull on my hair, even
yank it out when I
read what I’d just done,
that’s not fair.
But my father
always said
“Life is not fair”
and left it at that.
What is it that makes me;
what was it this time...
not enough rhyme?
The peasant blouse I wore,
that had to be it:
with hand-stitching
of birds and blossoms
across the
entice of a bosom’s
seasonal rite?
...
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
#nostalgia
#SelfDiscovery
#NaPoWriMo2019
448 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
14th Apr 2019 7:34pm
14th Apr 2019 7:34pm
Secrets: Notes of an Online Journal
Secrets”
When I write certain lines
to particular verses
in slow motion,
I use
an old outdoor brush
dipped in a bucket
of unstirred
oil-based paint;
Its thick bristles
separate
when I apply the
pungent ocher
on the original surface
of “canvas”
where the words go.
I want the
separations —
to see between,
and be reminded of
where the
poem is from;
Its origins.
Like the planks from
a fence,
a panel off a peeling
‘56 Ford pickup,
a...
When I write certain lines
to particular verses
in slow motion,
I use
an old outdoor brush
dipped in a bucket
of unstirred
oil-based paint;
Its thick bristles
separate
when I apply the
pungent ocher
on the original surface
of “canvas”
where the words go.
I want the
separations —
to see between,
and be reminded of
where the
poem is from;
Its origins.
Like the planks from
a fence,
a panel off a peeling
‘56 Ford pickup,
a...
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
#SelfReflection #NaPoWriMo2019
#SelfReflection #NaPoWriMo2019
471 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Apr 2019 4:56am
14th Apr 2019 4:56am
Fountainhead: Notes of an Online Journal
Fountainhead”
And in the cavalier of disregard
down alleyways back in the days,
I thought I knew romantic minds until
I found a place of loss of which
rare coins were tossed into a fountainhead.
A snapshot, a capture of this
that never changed in spite the worn veneer,
the bawdy steeped in gaudy cheap
atop the silent limestone catacombs;
the sewers’ dead below the streets.
Of hustlers and bistros above, each side,
dim along the darkened runways
elegance of the grand age of old wealth
and...
And in the cavalier of disregard
down alleyways back in the days,
I thought I knew romantic minds until
I found a place of loss of which
rare coins were tossed into a fountainhead.
A snapshot, a capture of this
that never changed in spite the worn veneer,
the bawdy steeped in gaudy cheap
atop the silent limestone catacombs;
the sewers’ dead below the streets.
Of hustlers and bistros above, each side,
dim along the darkened runways
elegance of the grand age of old wealth
and...
#love
#lover
#NaPoWriMo2019
543 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
12th Apr 2019 11:01pm
12th Apr 2019 11:01pm
Bohemia: Notes of an Online Journal
Bohemia"
It was days in the past
of no real jewelry
just costume plastic beads
with string and glass
an ID bracelet
with my first name
and sign
from the five & dime
no car of my own
with sheepskin
bucket seats
when gas was cheap
and coffee too
public transportation
as a rule
till I was grown
no trendy clothes with
designer tags
and torn denim knees
all I had —
homemade tie dyed tees
and worn out jeans
and flip flops
dodging the...
It was days in the past
of no real jewelry
just costume plastic beads
with string and glass
an ID bracelet
with my first name
and sign
from the five & dime
no car of my own
with sheepskin
bucket seats
when gas was cheap
and coffee too
public transportation
as a rule
till I was grown
no trendy clothes with
designer tags
and torn denim knees
all I had —
homemade tie dyed tees
and worn out jeans
and flip flops
dodging the...
#SelfReflection
#PopCulture
#nostalgia #NaPoWriMo2019
#nostalgia #NaPoWriMo2019
580 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th Apr 2019 7:03pm
11th Apr 2019 7:03pm
Dormant Harvest: Notes of an Online Journal
Dormant Harvest"
Through jungles & forests I stalk,
the quiet cocoons of timber,
naked and limber, a wide-eyed,
alert as I prowl, crouching low.
Then I howl, with tightened limbs
in streaming crimson tangle,
creeping vines & widow’s weeds,
the pygmy orchids’ hush & thrive.
A third-world breed, no other is!
I toss my sinew bait into
such riches that this warrior knew,
of dormant harvest, ripe to claim.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2019
Through jungles & forests I stalk,
the quiet cocoons of timber,
naked and limber, a wide-eyed,
alert as I prowl, crouching low.
Then I howl, with tightened limbs
in streaming crimson tangle,
creeping vines & widow’s weeds,
the pygmy orchids’ hush & thrive.
A third-world breed, no other is!
I toss my sinew bait into
such riches that this warrior knew,
of dormant harvest, ripe to claim.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2019
#identity
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #NaPoWriMo2019
#WritingPoetry #NaPoWriMo2019
522 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Heaven_sent_Kathy
