breath less
it’s the wind’s
bellowing
blustering
breath
of heaven sent
challenging me
to bend, not break
to dance with grace
less
about standing ground
more about letting
go…the fear, the pain
until all that’s left
is my soul, washed clean
~kat
Really enjoying the Cadae poetry form. Peace to you on this lovely day! 💞
sevenling (the caregiver)
because i do, and have loved you
for all these beautiful years…decades
through the best and worst, in health, in sickness…til death
vows i didn’t take lightly then
or now, as the piper comes to collect his due
i am a better person for it, because of you
exhausted, not from service, but from watching you suffer
-kat 2023 day two
Another Sevenling on this second day of 2023.
ode to joy
mist-veiled hints of muted blue
pale light dawning, just out of view
earthen musk mingling
sweet blooms, dew clinging
birds singing
joy breaks through
~kat
The Clogyrnach Poem
This Welsh poetic form is typically a six-line syllabic stanza with an ab rhyme scheme:
Line 1: 8 syllables with an a rhymeLine 2: 8 syllables with an a rhymeLine 3: 5 syllables with a b rhymeLine 4: 5 syllables with a b rhymLine 5: 3 syllables with a b rhymeLine 6: 3 syllables with an a rhyme
mother oak
she stands, deeply rooted
amidst a grove of shallow-footed
firs, bursting with fruit; her evergreen
friends taunting her as she blushes
red, surrendering her modesty
to the cool winds of autumn
what dreams she’ll dream when
winter comes, memories wakened
in the deep, dark loam, buried there
where only her roots can taste them,
memories of seasons past, of
seed-burst longing to breach the
grave, to life, to feel the sun upon
her face and the sweet seductive
breeze, the thrill of greening
she stands, deeply rooted
amidst a grove of shallow-footed
firs, some felled by tempests, or the ax
destined to waste away to dust covered
in gaudy baubles and tinsel, their
ever-greenness an illusion laid
bare at the altar of lost souls, and
rendered to ash at vanity’s bonfire
yes, she stands, deeply rooted
in the bosom of she who keeps
this blue orb spinning, sailing
through a sea of sweet milk just
far enough from the sun not
to be consumed and close enough
to the moon to see her reflection,
light and shadow colliding, in
ecstasy, heart and soul all-knowing
~kat
-Inspired by a new book I’m reading… “Seeds From the Wild Verge” by Brendan Ellis Williams
the unraveling
the tapestry is unraveling
earthy tones of brown and
tan, yellow and red fading,
white patches soiled from
blood and tears, offering no
warmth, no consolation,
threads splintering, breaking
unable to hold together the
dreams of the innocents
wrapped in it like a shroud…
where are the seamstresses
with steady hands and nimble
fingers, trembling with needles,
eyes too narrow to thread, to
mend the tatters, to scrub
the fabric clean, to restore
the tapestry, or better yet,
to weave a new cloth, one
that is brilliant, softened
with batting, large enough
to cover all who slumber,
to shield us from nightmares,
from the darkest of nights,
to bring us safely to the dawn
we’re hanging by a thread
tossed by tempests, trembling,
chilled to our bones
while the world burns
~kat
Crawling out from under my rock. Sorry for my recent silence. I confess that I have been overwhelmed of late by what’s happening to our brothers and sisters of color, to those sick and dying from the pandemic, from the lies of our leaders, from the hate ravaging our streets, disturbing the ardent pleas of peaceful protesters, from sheltering in (sheltering…what a benign word…sheltering). I have struggled to find words, forgetting that it is words that save me from the abyss; that help me get out of my head. I hope everyone is staying safe and well. I hope…at least I am trying to even as the dawn seems so very far away. Peace ✌️
like mercury colliding... 