Magnetic Poetry Monday – 20 February 2017

we only need
to know one
thing to make
it here…
the power was
ours all along

kat – 20 February 2017

Good Talk

Keeping this morning’s theme going, a Tanka poem for my poetry form of the day.

we call it prayer,
spiritual conversations,
“good talks” with our god
where we do all the talking
and god’s supposed to listen
-kat – 18 February 2017


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 19 February 2017

Another week, another Sunday of looking back. The second line of this week’s Shi Sai was troubling to me when I read it back for the first time. “God is not there to listen”. What does that mean? Why am I troubled by this?

True enough, the world is a noisy, obnoxious place. I am guilty myself of zoning out; muting the cacophony that grumbles for my attention day after day, endlessly, mercilessly, ad infinitum, ad nauseam. I do it to maintain my sanity. Does god worry about maintaining sanity? I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Just what is it that I expect from a god, a deity or a higher power? Does god exist to make my life heaven on earth, or more specifically…

…to help me pass the exam I didn’t study for?

…to land me that promotion or raise or fortune that I didn’t work for?

…to move the traffic along; to give me green lights all the way to work because I indulged my own laziness by hitting the snooze button once too often?

…to heal me or my loved ones; even thwart death, making us all immortal in a world where everything dies?

…to win the argument or war that I have stirred up in god’s name…when it is really my own selfishness, greed or self righteousness that needs defending; that needs to win?

…to make this person or that love me, appreciate me, see me?

…to fix my furnace, car, toaster or unclog my toilet?

…to fix the mess I’ve created for myself and others through my own actions?

…to make everyone just like me, and if they refuse to get in line, to make them go away…forever?

…add your own “please god” here…this is by no means an exhaustive litany…

We let ourselves off the hook too easily by repeating “god is in control” when the shit we’ve hurled at the fan comes back to slam us in the face. -kat 2017

We’d really like to be able to “let go and let god” and “surrender all” but those “come to Jesus” moments usually hit us when we are in the thick of chaos of our own making. It’s the ultimate “get out of jail free card”, absolution and immunity from accountability. An “in control” god gives us reason to praise and celebrate when the going is good, while taking personal credit for our own good judgement for having had the faith to believe. And when things go bad? We cry out, stomp our entitled feet and gnash our teeth toward god who we believe has “forsaken us”; who has stopped listening.

It’s complicated. What do I really expect from god? In all my wailing and pleading and groveling I think I’ve missed the point. And the point is not whether or not god is listening. 

The point is, am I?

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 19 February 2017

the dreary gloaming makes me weary
God is not there to listen
a stubborn squatter with a frosty bite
“Tomorrow,” he sighed
I don’t need chocolate or flowers
bits of bread and stale saltines
sight is relative
the deafening silence had an unintentional consequences
I just don’t want to be left behind
it has no value
frail shells of starved flesh
the sea is calling
a speaker’s nightmare
what’s most important to survive
nature secretly longs
bread, day old, crumbs to sustain
what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall

~kat – 18 February 2017

Seasoning – Part 28

Seasoning – Part 28

The closing bell that Henry dreaded finally chimed. “I could stop by the pub, grab my dinner there, but…” he argued with himself, “no Henry. Be a man. Support the woman you love and face your sister.” He cleared his desk, grabbed his coat and walked out the door without saying a word.

Charles who watched him pass, glanced at a group of fellow clerks engaged in the latest gossip; namely, Henry and his so-called “housekeeper”.

“What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall at that house this evening!” he chimed in.

Everyone nodded in agreement, snickering.


The taxi pulled up to the curb but Henry lingered.

“Am I at the right address sir? Maybe I…

“No, thank you, this is the place.” Henry paid the driver his fee and walked slowly toward the front door.

“Thank you sir. Have a good night!” The cabbie called from the car.

Henry turned with a nod, “Thanks mate.”

As he entered the parlor the aroma of roasting beef, fresh bread and cinnamon hung in the air like incense. Candlelight flickered from the dining room and jovial conversation and laughter echoed from the kitchen. “What is all this?” he wondered.

He walked into the kitchen to an astounding sight. Helen was tossing salad and Hannah whipping potatoes…together! He stood in the doorway, mouth agape for several minutes before Helen noticed him.

“Ha! You’re home Henry!” she exclaimed as she turned around wth the salad bowl. “Be a dear and make yourself useful, little brother. Grab the roast and carry it into the dining room if you please.”

Without thinking Henry complied, with Helen in tow. He had hardly noticed before that the table was impeccably set with the good china, crisp cloth napkins and crystal that sparkled in the candlelight. He placed the roast in the middle of the table and looked up at Helen who was beaming from ear to ear.

“What in god’s name is going on here?” he whispered in dazed disbelief.

“Shhhh Henry,” Helen chided, “it’s been a wonderful day, a magnificent day! Don’t you dare spoil it!”

“Spoil what? I have no idea what is happening here. When I left this morning…”

“When you left this morning…” Hannah interjected, joining them with a steaming bowl of potatoes in one hand and fresh bread in the other, “and I must say I was quite cross at your abrupt departure! When you left, or should I say escaped, I imagine you thought you were leaving a swarming beehive behind. In fact, Helen and I have had a wonderful day. We went shopping and had the most enlightening conversation.”

“Oh good god Henry, shut your mouth and sit down,” Helen chortled.

As he lowered himself into the chair clutching the arm rests for balance he noticed Hannah. She was removing her apron revealing a beautiful yellow dress; her hair was delicately swept up into a cascade of curls that draped her face, slightly flushed. She was stunning.

“Hannah is lovely in that new dress, don’t you think, Henry?” Helen clucked as she joined him at the table.

Befuddled, Henry stumbled over his words, “Uh yes, Helen, lovely.” He gazed at Hannah who posed proudly in her new dress, eyes sparkling as she looked at him for approval. “You, Hannah, are lovely.” His face softened.

Hannah blushed and sat down next to him. “We should eat everyone, before it gets cold.”

Helen reached over patting Henry’s hand. “It’s alright Henry,” she said reassuringly, “Hannah and I talked.”

“Talked about what? Forgive me you two, I am quite confused by all of this,” Henry pleaded.

“I know Henry,” Helen said.

“She knows Henry,” Hannah added, smiling.

“Knows what?”

Hannah and Helen answered him in unison, “the letter.”


To read previous installments of Seasoning, click HERE.

Lament of the Least

Photo from

the least of all, the least of these
these who scrape and toil for bread
bread to quench the hunger pangs
pangs of madness in their heads

heads that swirl with lies and fear
fear of what they do not know
know that when the Piper comes
comes he reaping what they’ve sowed

sowed the wrath of powerful greed
greed for what was never theirs
theirs to take, to spoil and use
use without a passing care

care for those who toil for bread
bread, day old, crumbs to sustain
sustain the lavish lusts of men
Men in power who use the least for gain

kat – 18 February 2017
(A Loop Poem)

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