
we have only ourselves
to blame for the crap
embraced by fools
these days, who make
all things once sacred
a hot, wild mess that
eyes the ocean over
see, bringing them
to fits of laughter
~kat 😳
Magnetic Poetry – Poet Kit

‘He made the world to be a grassy road
Before her wandering feet.’ -W.B. Yeats
Through the Breach of Tar and Pebbles
iron spires wrapped in nettles
splintery oak and knobby pine
iron spires wrapped in nettles
facades eroding, lost to time
penetrating every crevice
splintery oak and knobby pine
tendrils snaking ‘round a trellis
ghosted spaces, gently greening
penetrating every crevice
vibrant once again and teeming
blooms emerge and bumbles fly
ghosted spaces, gently greening
traces of human touch, disguised
Gaia’s voice calls forth the living
blooms emerge and bumbles fly
bursting forth from clay forgiving
iron spires wrapped in nettles
Gaia’s voice calls forth the living
iron spires wrapped in nettles
~kat
A Terzanelle for Jane Dougherty’s A Month With Yeats -Day Twelve Poetry Challenge inspired by the verse above from Yeats’ poem, ‘The Rose of the World’.

‘Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,’ – W.B. Yeats
Tea for One
misty streams of sweetened jasmine
encircling my sleepy head
echoes of our conversations
misty streams of sweetened jasmine
memory’s a poor companion
i wish that you were here instead
misty streams of sweetened jasmine
encircling my sleepy head
~kat
A triolet for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats – Day Eleven inspired by the excerpt above from ‘The Harp of Aengus’ by W.B. Yeats.
This verse brought to mind the ways that certain scents can rouse memories. I have a dear friend who lives far away, but everytime I have a cup of jasmine tea, a favorite we shared, I think of her. in thise moments, time stands still and I am transported by memories of the many conversations❤️ we had over a cup of tea. ❤️

how broken must
a heart be to
open fire on babies…
but more dark are the
heartless fools who
look away and do
nothing

the fiddler’s
playing a
lively lick
driving suits
delirious, for soon
they’re going down

do not lose heart
my friend, though
tiny men use power
as if they are gods…
a thousand better angels
are fighting for truth and
honor in the wings

too beautiful to bear,
the forest falling
gently, frosted breezes
murmuring, as leaves
cover quiet paths in
vivid shades of brown
~kat