Right For Me – A Poem

472622366Back over my birthday and the week prior I met a darling boy/man, and I was still dealing with new feelings about Boris.  Recently my emotions have gotten the better of me as I watch The Bachelorette and drool over gorgeous men, at the same time dealing with Boris and possibly someone new in my life.  (Online dating can be a whirlwind in it’s own way)

I have had poetry and romance and kisses in my head to the point where I have this perpetual knot in my chest.  I can’t write it all down enough and I am getting stuck and lost in my mind more and more. Fortunately, I was able to capture some of what I’m struggling with in a piece of poetry.  I am titling it ‘Right For Me’ because I’m not sure what else to call it. I think my birthday….. no, pardon Neeko, was the catalyst to all of this.

 

 

 

 

Right For Me

I’m too old for you
Too young for him
Just right for me

I’m too close to there
Too far from here
I’m just in between

My words too long
The story too short
The plot just right

I’m looking back
I’m plowing forth
Just standing still

I like you a lot
I love him a little
I’m happy with me

I wish on you
I hope for him
I dream for me

 

Just a little something to express myself.

 

Kate

 

Poetry from Poemcrazy Workshop

Here are three poems from the workshop with Susan Wooldridge.

Using word tickets, word pools, post cards, stolen words and pure magic.  All of these poems here brought tears, full of raw emotion and feelings.  I do hope you enjoy.

I Remember by V. Krueger

I Remember
Hewn stone
Hopscotch on the kitchen floor,
Blue sky, full moons
Strange surprises and early spring
I remember
Frail old people, laughing children
Rambunctious conversations over dinner
The smell of a warm stove and coffee

I remember
Enchanting, silly, lost little girls,
Plates stacked, silver, really?
Dark, dank, scary, stairs to the cellar
I remember
Cold winters, pancakes and syrup
Important dreams
Steaming milk, the smell of diesel.
I remember
Shaggy horses,
The delightful smell of cows,
swish, swish, swish , milk in the pail, a warm barn..



Amnesia, I Have Forgotten What I Was by Katie Lyn Branson

I am Life the dishsoap in the
Spanish home disembodied as my
Mother stands at the kitchen sink
Singing to my sister about shortning
Bread
The sweet, sweet, sweet smell of chocolate
Chip cookies, the chlorine as she cleans the
Sink
Sewing up shadows of compact berries
I remember the expression, No problem
Knocking full of neon light-script
Nom Nom she says, yes yes I’ll have
Another song
The language of the north hand calls me
And I’m the dishes as I set the table
Come back to me potato chips
Crunchy with mustard, sour, salty
Honey tastes, not dainty
Amnesia, I have forgotten what I was
Encounter me in Monaco, a glittering
Firebrat, stunning as a Japanese Geisha
Three lovely syllables form me
Mira, headlights Wildfire
I am leafless trees of burnt umber
Dancing and sensual,
I am a cactus prickly when you prod me
I am a Victorian lady, proper and prim
Every moaning lover calls me home
The agony of eternity’s with them
An ocean full of squares, sharp
The softness of a waterfall full of leaves
Beckons me to the bloodroot of me
The Swamp Dewberry, earthy and sweet
I am so many things knocking at myself
As I chain-smoke my words on paper and
Become a lurking mask of myself
sewing up shadows of a bubble

Ball on the Green by Katie Lyn Branson
I feel like the endless golf ball on the
green, lonely and waiting to be hit from
the club
The luminosity of the sun shines on my
white surface in a desert of green
The rain hits the umbrella, plink plunk thunk
The feather boa around my neck is soft
Tickling my chin
I feel like wearing red and dancing on the
green. The green velvet lawn in July
as you take the weekend to burrow yourself
away and forget what I said to you in a musical moment.
I feel lost waiting for the hit to come
from you sending me spinning and reeling
towards the hole.
Another point for you as you score a
Par four and write it with your little
pencil of grafite
I could erase your marks and write
in my own.
I win! I shout at you.
For once I have the upper hand
Your stalking Jaguar-self won’t scare
me this century
Photograph me as I dance in the rain
over cobblestoned streets, my silken skirts
An Oriental Poppy of endless movement.

Kate

All poetry is copywrited 2015 by V. Krueger and Katie Lyn Branson.  Do not use without permission.

A Real Life Captain America

In this day and age it isn’t often that you can find someone you truly admire and look up to. There are very few heroes like there used to be and we tend to look to our imaginary superheroes of film or television. Captain America of Marvel fame is quite popular. Embracing the values that made our country great, it’s easy to see why we look at figures like this in awe and respect.  Personally, I’m a huge fan of Captain America.  He embodies the good looking, clean cut, clean life, God fearing, country proud man of the era of WWII, which is obvious since that is his time period.  This is my idea of an ideal man. He had the right qualities, and oh look, he knows how to treat a lady as well.

captain-america-wallpaper-chris-evansBut there are very few men like Captain America. Very few men whom our boys can look up to and have a role model.

Except for maybe one man.

Noah Galloway.

It’s not often that you can look at a man who is ballroom dancing and say, oh, that is someone to admire, but in the case of Noah Galloway, I think he is truly someone to admire. Taking Dancing with the Stars by storm, he has taken the ballroom to new heights and surprised, impressed, and made us all cry.  Who would have ever thought a man missing the limbs on his left side could ever do what he has done every week?

Screen Shot 2015-04-07 at 10.37.26 AM_0Here is a man who was lost out of high school, who saw the two towers being bombed, who decided to sign up to fight for our country.  Who lost his limbs and what was the life he knew in one moment. In one flash everything was gone. He gave his arm and leg for our country. He served our country and fought for our freedom and lost something so personal.  How could anyone who has not been in combat even come close to knowing what this man has gone through.

And yet week after week he danced his heart out, bringing us to tears with his amazing work ethic and self motivation. Here is someone who respects hard work and pushing one’s self. Never giving up even when there were downsides to the dancing. Even though he has never received the highest scores.  Caring for his partner, Sharna Burgess,  in a way that all men should care for a woman, be it friend, mother, sister, lover, etc. He respects women. You can see it in how he treats Sharna.

Here is a man that embodies Captain America.  Who says we need Marvel with a fake hero?  We have a hero right here at home is showing the world what he can do. Pushing himself beyond the boundaries of modern dance.

...... Or the fake shield?

…… Or the fake shield?

Whom would you rather have? A real man like Captain America?......

Whom would you rather have? A real man like Captain America?……

Showing us all that pushing ourselves does get us somewhere.

You want a man for your young son to look up to? Show him Noah Galloway and you are showing him the real Captain America.

I know which captain I would take.

Kate

Transporting Myself and You to Where I Love

Anywhere but here?  Where would I go?

I read the topic for the assignment on Writing 101 and my first thought was to my grandparent’s cabin in the Sierra Nevada mountain. Up the creek to where the water tanks are. To a world where the water tumbles down pink granite into eddies and pools and fountains of slippery, cold mountain water. Where the water has worn away the granite so perfectly it looks like a fine stone mason has been smoothing and carving away to make perfect dips and holes in the rock for the water to slide over in a constant rippling, tumbling motion. Where moss grows on the water’s edge and long stringy and slimy strands of green algae make its home.  Where caddis fly ‘shells’ are buried in the sand and water skeeters (striders) skip across tranquil ponds.  Where the sun shines down bright and hot from a sky so blue it could only be made up. Where the heat bakes the Jeffrey, Ponderosa, and Sugar Pines till all you can smell is cold water and hot, hot, sweet resin. Burning to a bright red in the sun, but cooling off in icy mountain water. A water feature that could never be created by man.

I can smell the pine and mountain air that is only caught high up there. The smell is burned into my mind and I miss it every year.

But I would also go to my favorite bookstore.  Bookends is a small town bookstore where the owner Mia Brooks has a bell above the door that jangles the moment you step inside. Then you hear the music she has playing and you see her standing at her large wood counter right there in front of you. And she has gorgeous wood shelves behind her filled with her store supplies. On the counter she has an antique cash register she only uses for the most important clientele (the children). To the left is an L-shaped staircase that leads up to her office and the adult books, and you can see this as there is this balcony slash gallery above the shop; open to the store below.  Also to the left is the way to the coffee shop next door that is accessed by french doors. and in the L-shape to the right of the stairs is her wood stove with a gold screen around it to keep little hands from burning themselves.

To the right is a large opening to her reading room, which is elegant and all Mia since this room houses Mia’s private collection of books. You can’t buy the books from here, but you can ‘borrow’ them, pulling them off the shelves to read while you sit back in one of her leather arm chairs, though I prefer the Queen Anne chair covered in antique rose brocade. The wood floor is covered in gorgeous Persian rugs and all the shelves are built in walnut. Dark and full of old and new books, but mostly old. The chairs sit next to large windows looking out on the small town.

Travel back from the main counter, behind the wall of her shelves, you find the rest of the store filled with sections of books.  And you can’t forget the room she has behind the wall of the front. This room is where she stores her music. A small room that has a very high end stereo system, including a record player.  You can play anything you like and the music will be piped into the store. She listens to everything, though her tastes match the seasons. She loves to play The Nutcracker Ballet in December.

Her store is a world unto itself…. Partly because her store isn’t real. Well, it’s real in my mind. This store is created for Mia as I try to write her story. Since I can’t seem to get her story written, at least she has her store to continue working in while I figure out what I want to say about her.

Bookends; a store that is real but unreal.

Those two places are where I would go if I could.

Kate

An Open Letter To James M. Sama

Dear James M. Sama,

I’m writing and open letter to you because I can’t send this in person. The irony is this letter is about writing letters. One thing I love about your posts is how you promote chivalry and the right attitude when it comes to dating and relationships.

In this day and age, making contact with prospective suitors is so incredibly easy what with emails, texting, Facebook, etc. Instant gratification is the norm and there is no waiting for a reply anymore. You don’t have to wait days of anticipation for a response. And I think it is that instant  response that has made it so men in particular, don’t have to work to court women. I think it’s our (women’s) own fault. We make it so easy, almost as if we were desperate, to be at the beck and call of a man. I’m not saying this as a cut on men; far from it. I love men and I am looking for a good man. A man who is willing to win my affection. And in the past, which includes up till the past  week, I have been willing to be at the beck and call of any man that shows interest.

What if instead of women giving out their email, we gave out our mailing address instead? Okay, yes, there are stalker guys/girls out there, so instead there is always a work address as well. What if instead of instant gratification of a text or email, you asked a guy to write you a letter and send it to you?

For anyone to send another person a letter, you have to sit down, take some time, and think while you write out a letter. Then you have to wait for a reply. It could be a two day wait if you live a couple hundred miles from each other. It’s still a wait within the city. And what is a day waiting for a real letter when sometimes it takes a person days to write a reply to an email? I am one of those people. I rarely jot off a reply email. Really, email only makes us think we are getting an instant response when in reality it can take as much time.

When my parents were dating, my father, who’s handwriting wasn’t very easy, painstakingly wrote my mother who was working as a nurse at a summer camp several hours away. My mother’s previous fiance wrote her while she was in Africa for a year. When my mom was going to college, a man she was with wrote her letters; poetry.  He never mailed them to her, since they were on the same campus, but he gave them to her.

I called my grandmother today and while my grandfather was in the military during the Korean war, and she was in college, they wrote each other every day. She mailed a letter every day, he sent them almost every day (come to find out, sometimes he would send three at once!)

Courtship was done by letters and rare phone calls.  There was the wait and anticipation and longing that comes from waiting for a letter.

I think we all could stand to slow down and take our time dating and getting to know each other. We need to stop promoting instant gratification, because it leads to having it in other areas of life. If a guy is willing to sit down and write you a letter, especially if you ask, tells you that he is willing to take the time to get to know you.

Now, I will conclude this letter/post by stating that I love email. Underscore love. But even I think I use it too much and need to get back to writing letters even more, and I’m someone that likes writing real letters. Since I have a Post Office box, I think I’m going to attempt to see if a guy will write me instead of email me in the future. It’s just an idea, and I thought you might like it.

All the best to you. I do enjoy your posts and I’m always pleasantly surprised, though I need to stop being that way.

Sincerely,

Kate

What Did You Do To My Book?

9780399169731_Chasers_of_the_Light-320x440I sat there this evening contemplating blackout poetry. See, I find it rather cool, and lovely, and unique.  So far, one of my favorite ‘authors’ is Tyler Knott Gregson.  I have his book, Chasers of the Light, and some of his blackout poetry is within the pages.  Obviously he had to take a book and black out the words to create his masterpiece, but I wonder, has he ever wondered about someone taking his poetry and blacking it out for their own blackout poetry?

Probably not.

I am not one to destroy a book for art, but at the same time, I have started marking over a book for poetry. I found a paperback copy of The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, and I picked it because I liked the cover and couldn’t even get into the first pages of the book. I kind of wish I had a heavier book to do this in, but I haven’t found one I like yet. Hardback would be better.  But anyways, I’m marking the book and I have one poem done. And it’s pretty, though very beginner-ish.

I think I need to find a better pen than a sharpie….

But here I am marking a book and ‘destroying’ the words within for my own gain.  Would I feel so comfortable if I knew someone were taking my novel, my poetry, and marking it over?

Probably not. But art is art. Right?

Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about the whole thing. I picked up an older discarded copy of C.S. Forester‘s Flying Colors (a Captain Hornblower novel) thinking that would be fun to mark the pages. But I just can’t seem to bear marking the book. It’s mixed feelings. Wanting to create, but not wanting to mar what might be a good book.

And while I love Tyler Knott Gregson’s poetry and how he uses scraps of paper, I cringe at the thought of taking a blank page out of the front of an antique or old book.

See, my first love over writing, is books. They should be cherished and loved like a woman, and you don’t just discard them or rip pages out of them and turn them into something new. The woman analogy still applies here.  So, I’m at a crossroads of creating. Do I destroy to create something new?

Or do I find alternative methods to creating these new styles of poetry?

Gads, what would Sir Walter Scott, William Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson think of these new forms?

Kate

Saturday Inspires – Paddington Station

I was able to slightly indulge in one of my favorite stores yesterday. Paddington Station in Ashland, Oregon. This store is totally girly, though not so much that a guy won’t find some cool stuff in it. They have the BEST ornaments and gorgeous things. I could browse this store for ages. Sadly, I only had about 45 minutes, which went very quickly. But I was able to snap a few pictures. I just love this whole three story store.  There are five pictures from the actual website, so I can’t call them mine, but they add to the flavor that I can’t capture.

Snow Moustache Season

snow mustache_ editsnow mustache_ word edit

Well it is, isn’t it?

Happy Friday, dearies. Only 5 more days until you should have everything wrapped. I, sadly, still do not have two of my gifts even done! And today I am off to donate blood to the Red Cross. Hey, there you go. Want to give a gift this season that doesn’t cost you anything but really helps out a lot of people? Donate blood at your local Red Cross. There is always a shortage of blood, especially right now. I urge you to consider it.

Kate

Saturday Inspires – Ladies

I love looking at beautiful women. There is something about looking at women dressed like I want to look like that inspires me. I’ve loved looking at fashion magazines and Victoria’s Secrets for years and I still like seeing a good looking woman. So, here is my own inspirations for this Saturday.

 

So, any lovely ladies inspire you?

Kate