Tag Archives: Poetry

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

-kat

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

~kat

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.

A Dinner Date Dilemma


A Dinner Date Dilemma

“Darling, dinner’s at 8,” George called to his wife of twenty-two years, we don’t want to be late.”

“Almost ready,” she winked, sashaying by, “I couldn’t resist, was on sale, what you think?”

As he glanced at his watch, George thought to himself, ‘Don’t say it Rita….please don’t…there she goes!’

“Does it make me look fat?” Rita blurted, fluttering her lashes while striking a pose.

Any gentleman will tell you it’s a no win situation… a trap that few escape unscathed!

“I love the color Rita; how it brings out your eyes, it’s new you say? And your hair…like it swept off your beautiful face in that way. Always love that perfume how it wafts through the room…”

“Geooorrrge…!”

“Are those new shoes? I hope they’re comfortable. Can’t have them pinching your toes while we dance, come now, let’s go.”

Rita shifted her pose, tapped her foot on the floor, and side-eyed this lovely man she adored. “You didn’t answer my question…!”

George squirmed, ‘oh hell,’ he thought. “Well…”

“Shhhhhushh, Georgie stop. Don’t answer me that, of course I look fat, no dress can hide that!”

Rita rushed to his side, kissed his shiny bald head. “I love you,” she said.

“And I love you Rita, my beautiful girl,” George smiled, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.“

~kat

Day One NaPoWriMo 2022 - The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.

ode to an aging fragile heart

ode to an aging fragile heart

the icy tip of Reaper’s sickle
lightly tapped her shoulder yesterday
her breathless voices gently whispered,
“winter is coming”, she heard Hel say

oh hush you pounding pitter-patter
elephant dancing upon her chest
it’s just a passing ‘bleeping’ blip
but maybe it’s time for her to rest

let someone else with nose to grindstone
deal with the dread deliverables
the Piper’s fluting, shrill, pricks her ears
background ‘music’ to this crucible

forced to face the inconvenient
unpaid debt now due Mortality,
“it’s much later than you think, my dear”
youth is but a fleeting memory

Shadow follows close, a breath away
she’s not ready to engage Her yet
‘she will survive’, the mantra of her life
drives her in this battle to the death

~kat

NaPoWriMo 2022 - Early-Bird Prompt - I decided to do a rhyming poem that borrows some style quirks from Emily Dickinson and her poem “Because I Could Not Stop Fo Death”.

The artwork is a little something i whipped up in a drawing app on my phone…my canvas is digital these days! ❤️

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

~kat