Tag Archives: nature

A ReVerse Poem From a Week I Wish I Could Reverse

Kat’s bird-feeding station in the Bramlett Mountain foothills – Spring 2022
The silence on my page might imply that I have not been writing much this week. But in fact I have written words every day. Verses, poems that went unfinished because I was distracted by the news of the day and all manner of war…against a sovereign democratic nation…against truth…against democracy itself…against women, most achingly distracted by the war against women in my own country, and feeling powerless to stop the coming tidal wave…as heartless people in power check us off, one by one. They won’t be satisfied with one victory…subjugating women, but will surely move on to dole out equal shares of misery on minorities that make them uncomfortable…people of color, LGBTQ people, non-evangelical christian people…who else will face their wrath before their thirst for blood is quenched? And even now, still, I wonder about the children…always the children who were ripped from their parents at our southern border. I pray for them every day. 

It’s a wonder I managed to write anything at all this week with this garbage swimming in my brain. So in the spirit of getting it out of my notebook and onto a proper page, this is a good time for a ReVerse. Would that I could reverse the cruelty of the humans who inhabit this planet…

I saw my first indigo bunting at the bird feeders yesterday…and a scarlet tanager…and a red breasted grosbeak. This is a first for me…three more beauties came to call, in person, just outside my window. All coexisting with the other birds, rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels and deer who happen by my little bird feeding station every day. You know, Nature has been doing this much longer than we humans…living in harmony…in balance. We could learn a thing or two. All this to say…that wee flash of brilliant blue…my little friend, the indigo bunting gives me hope.

And with that…here’s the ReVerse of this past week’s poetry that I was unable to finish…

A ReVerse Poem From a Week I Wish I Could Reverse

i don’t want to write about this
there once was a town full of fools
true power doesn’t need to boast
we have forgotten what normal is
a moment, just a moment take
true power’s not up for debate
imposing their will on others until
remember all lives,
but only if you’re white, matter,
the rest are on their own
disdained after their first breath,
barefoot, pregnant, pregnant, pregnant, pregnant
heartbeats matter, breathing not so much
don’t ask, don’t tell
i don’t mind an overcast day or two
breathe in, breathe out,
you need a break
give it a rest
i worry for the innocents
but i know the sun is going to rise


A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. 

the wild sacred

Sun-painted Green Mountain as the crow flies at dawn -kat March 2022
the wild sacred

who can look at the sun at dawn or at dusk
and not feel it’s fire in your core
or sink your naked feet in cool loam
it’s tingling vibration, as you become
one with the she that is Her;
oh, the song of cicada’s stirs sensuous
longing; their slow rhythmic moan
to crescendoing climax to breathless
release…’sigh’…how indeed
the cacophony of spring birdsong at dawn,
their frenetic trill tweets
are passion’s love song
how could wild things be bedeviled as wrong
from the rush, ebb and flowing of waterways deep
to shallow streams bubbling, the brute power
of steam, the way wind-tossed leaves sound
like tempest-swelled seas
while the stars and the moon watch us drift
off to dream, to sleep, souls to keep
holy, holy, wild is the rawness of green
not sterile stone chapels with steel phallic spires
but darkness, musk hollows, mountains and
fire, how sacred is She, how wet with desire
the earth and the sky and a soft cooling breeze
can transport one to heaven on earth…

come with me

we’ll tip whistling kettle to cup,
watch the crushed tea leaves bleed
you’ll tell me your tales, and
i’ll tell you mine too,
while we sip from our cups
in this wild sacred place,
just us two


Just musings..no prompt or challenge save the magnificence surrounding me.  Some poetry is best just because. 😊

vernal vespers

The view from my front porch…how I love this place! -kat 2022
vernal vespers

hush, ‘tis evensong
day’s fiery dénouement
sol’s final glisk


NaPoWriMo2022 - Day 2 Prompt: write a poem based on a word featured in a tweet from Haggard Hawks, an account devoted to obscure and interesting English words. My word of choice: Glisk.

A GLISK is a brief glimpse of warm sunshine.

first flower

first flower

hello there dandy,
first to bloom,
with golden mane,
frosted lightly,
buttons of tiny petals
to parasols of gray,
taking flight one day
on bursts of breath
whispered softly
to a crystalline sky…
it would seem
you are more
than a nuisance,
a weed deeply rooted,
it is you who dares
to bare your face,
to rise, to shine
in the light
of the worm moon,
to announce
the coming spring…
a dandy-lion who
dallies with tempests,
only to be plucked
from the loam,
soft, downy,
feather-light, ripe
for the kiss of wish-makers,
to dance for wide-eyed
innocents who dare to dream


falling to pieces

falling to pieces

i’ve been watching the great oak
in my yard for several years now…
she doesn’t play by the rules
of autumn, clinging tightly to
faded, parched leaves against
the fiercest of tempests, through
ice and heavy lobs of wet snow,
though her branches may bend
to almost breaking, she holds fast
i don’t know what to think of such
a tree, is it vanity, stubbornness,
a lapse of memory? for as sure
as summer drifts to autumn and
autumn to winter, spring will come
as the sun grows warm and days
grow long, life will begin to surge
through her veins causing buds
to burst, at long last setting their
departed siblings free to ride the wind,
to taste the earthen loam, to rest,
to rest in peace in a sea of greening

i’ve been known to be stubborn, to
cling too tightly to things not meant
for me, to useless longing for what
once was, my memory forgetful of
the struggles of those glorified once
upon a times, and time again i have
been known to stand full-faced
against a tempest, convinced i held
on and on for virtue’s sake, believing
martyrdom raised me up, oh there
it is, the vanity, how loathsome
to be a tree that can’t let go
when letting go is one’s very destiny…
letting go to ride the wind, to fall to pieces,
to trust the seasons, to know that
whatever is left of me is all i need
and here, now is where i’m meant to be


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