Dabbling…In and Highlighting NOPW

Writer’s Digest and the Poem a Day (PAD) started and we are here on day 15 with hardly anything to show for it. I started feeling a bit guilty that I wasn’t following along and cranking out a poem for every prompt. Till I got to the halfway point and said, fine, I don’t care. I stopped worrying about it because I knew I wouldn’t be able to play catch up.

Ironically, I was able to crank out 4 poems in 45 minutes the other day with my writing group. Granted, they aren’t that great, though three have promise if I clean them up. I still probably won’t accomplish PAD, but I might be able to dabble in a few more. Sometimes it takes me a while to get back to finding a poem in a simple prompt. This coming from someone that can usually come up with something with just about anything. Give me a picture, let me stare at it for a few minutes, and I can usually start off on the start of a story, or idea. Maybe not a poem, but definitely something.

For some reason though, this time around, the prompts have left me, well, hanging. Maybe it’s me. Today’s prompt is a Two for Tuesday is a Life or Death poem. Honestly, this one hits close to home as I have a friend who’s wife at 30 had a stroke then found out she had cancer. Talk about being hit by a wall.  Talk about a subject that triggers all kinds of things.

But a good segue to bring up something.  For those interested, there is a GoFundMe for my friend and his wife here at, Lift For Lainee, and I also want to bring attention to National Orange Popsicle Week or NOPW which brings awareness to those who have had a stroke at a young age. As they say “We consider a young stroke survivor to have had their stroke under the age of 45 because most statistics show that 45 is considered young for having a stroke. 20-to-64-year-olds make up 31 percent of all strokes.”  Who knew it was kind of rare? I didn’t. And talk about a life changing thing to have to relearn how to walk, or move, or speak, or, well, do just about anything we take for granted. I urge anyone to take a look at NOPW which has a rather cool story as to the name….  You can also check out their Facebook page here NOPW-FB.

Do you know of someone that has suffered a stroke at a young age? Maybe you would be interested in the site and organization.

Also, you can see why life and death have been on my mind, not to mention another dear friend who has had to go back in for another round of chemo. How does one even rationalize death or the word ‘cancer’ and not think of death?  Despite being a believer and knowing where I end up when I die, death still is something I struggle with. Surprisingly, I haven’t experienced much death in my life other than two great- grandparents, one at an early age. It hasn’t been one of those things where I even remember it much. So as friends age, or get sick, it comes to my mind.

I am reminded of Dylan Thomas’ poem do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (which I may or may not have mentioned in a recent post about Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas….)

Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 – 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

SO good friends who read this blog….. Do not go gentle into that good night….

Kate

PAD Day 24- Lost then Regained – Lost and Found Friends

Mrs. Austen and I  lost touch with each other for about ten years; those years from childhood to adulthood.  It was by chance my grandmother, darling that she is, found Mrs. Austen’s wedding announcement in the local paper, clipped it out, and sent it to me. I can’t imagine how my life would be had she not done that and Mrs. Austen and I reconnecting. I can’t imagine my life without my best friend, who really would like a letter, and I have one started in an email, but it’s been two weeks…. Sorry Jules! I will get it to you!

But for now, here is how we lost then found each other. And when I think of our friendship, I think of Simon and Garfunkel‘s “Bookends” and “Old Friends” songs, which happen to be my favorite songs of theirs. I also think of Sorcery and Cecelia or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Caroline Stevermer and Patricia C. Wrede

Lost and Found Friends

I was twelve when I lost my best friend,
Moving east, three states across;
A distance more than miles, it became years
A childhood faded to the teens;
Terrible years and no friend to commiserate with.
Meeting again at eighteen on the cusp of adulthood
Her going that way, me going another distance.
College and moves, and strange times between us.
She was married, her picture in the paper
when we truly met again, as ourselves.
Not in person, but letters and words on sheets.
Meeting like old-fashioned women and calling cards.
Our friendship regained in letters and cards
to something strong and lasting for years.
From best friend, to lost friend, to found again
We are the old friends sitting like bookends…

PAD Day 4 – Distance… Somewhat At A Distance

Susan Wooldridge talks about loaded words in Poemcrazy, and personally, the past two days have had loaded words for me when it comes to writing and PAD (Poem a Day). Yesterday was ‘three’ and three can mean so many things. I started playing around with three broken hearts, imagining two men in love with one woman. I think that come from reading Outlander and really falling in love with it.  But there is this forbidden fascination with being loved by two men. Maybe it’s the lack of a love life, or just the fact that I love guys…. But anyways…. Three can mean so much. Maybe not to others, but to me it does.

Someone at a Distance by Dorothy Whipple

Then today’s prompt was ‘Distance’.  I started singing Rod Stewart’s ‘So Far Away’ and thinking about the title to a Persephone Books title, “Someone at a Distance” by Dorothy Whipple.  Then Robert Brewer (head dude of the PAD) suggested distance and running.  Well, all three of those things kind of fit together and here is what I came up with.

 

Enjoy.

Somewhat at a Distance

Somewhat at a distance there
A pinprick of light and hope
But that dot still feels so far
Away
Thirty-four years I feel I’ve waited
Pounding the pavement thin
Impatient and exhausted for the end
To come
But isn’t the journey the adventure?
At least so they say to sound brave
To me the fulfillment means
Adventure
To spend your life with another
Now that is the real quest
Companionship is the adventure
The gain
But I wait here along for him
As he waits alone for me
Spread apart by space
Alone
Someday I hope we smack full force
And our life not the end but beginning
To start that great adventure
Together

 

NB. The last two stanzas just came to me! Whew!  I love it when a plan comes together….. ~George Pepard

Kate

Down Time, Not Writing Time – Writing 101 Day 9

When I’m not writing. Well, that’s pretty much just my life.  I get up, I take care of the house, I fix meals, I garden/farm… I exist.  Life is rarely me going from one point of writing to the next. It’s more of a “Oh, yay, I have five moments of time in between what I need to do and what I have to do.”  Right now, as I type, the timer just went off reminding me to swish the hand laundry. The delicates that have been piling up for way too long and all us girls in the house are completely out of favorites. It’s a desperate time. It really is quite traumatic when we run out of that favorite blue thing…

There, I have eight more minutes to type before the timer goes off again. My life has down time, for sure, but it’s sporadic. Right now, because it’s cold and wintery, I have evenings as my down time. I don’t take the daytime as I am usually rushing to get everything done before 4pm when I have to get outside to cover rows and rows of plants growing still, and finish up taking care of the chickens for the evening. Basically I have an hour and a half of time shot every evening…. Pardon me, there goes another timer for the washer…… And today it will be even worse as it’s supposed to be even colder, so everything needs a bit more cover tonight.

But when I do have down time and I’m not writing, I do have some other things I like to do. Usually they relate to writing, or reading. I read whenever I can. Right now I have about five books started and very little hopes on finishing any of them. I have a hard time finishing books now because 1. I write more than anything so books get put to the wayside; and 2. I don’t like half the books I start. The one exception this year was the Vampire Academy series and The Lady In Gold. Other than that, I can’t think of a single other thing I finished from the library.  I did have my book review books.

I visit the library whenever I can, but I haven’t taken much time to sit down and just read there lately. I get caught up visiting the ladies and I don’t sit down and read. Granted, it was summer mostly so I couldn’t take the time earlier this year. But I love to browse the shelves of the little library. Shelves I know so well. I could close my eyes and you could put me on any isle and I could tell you what was in front of me. Most likely. I might be a little off since they changed the shelves a little and moved everything over one shelf.

I enjoy puttering outside in the sun, but usually there is something that needs to be done so puttering is more of an actual job that needs doing. Yesterday it was spreading mulch and burning.  But when I can, I have my camera with me and I am busy snapping away for anything from the business, to my cards, to just fun. I enjoy getting up close and personal with things.

Life gets in the way of a lot of writing. The fact that I’m taking time out of my day right now to write is crazy. I should be vacuuming something or picking up something else. There is enough clutter right now to make a OCD person go completely insane.

But not writing gives me a chance to mull over ideas. Which I’ve said in the past. And usually after I do a bunch of writing challenges, I need a break. I should have probably taken a break after October and writing every day, but I liked the idea of a poetry challenge. And I liked keeping up the pace, even if I don’t post every day. If I just sit down and work on a sonnet, it’s still writing. So every day I’m trying to do that. I love it. And while sometimes I get a little burned out, it doesn’t happen enough to give up writing something every day.

Kate

Things As Women We Should All Know – Day No. 27

We are four days from being done. I said D-O-N-E with this Write 31 Days.  Someone recently (and since I know you are probably reading this, you will know who I’m talking to…) told Mrs. B that I needed to suck it up and quit complaining about writing every day.  I’d like to see you write every day and come up with fresh content….. Now that I have that off my chest…. LOL.

12027540_977067112352002_6221272141493101965_nOkay, so earlier this year I came across this list of 13 Things No One Tells You About Being A Woman By Chrissy Stockton, after listening to the Joy the Baker podcast.  After listening to some of the highlights of the list, I headed over and read the whole thing.

Whoa. Right on.  This list is so true it’s scary.  First off, before you finish reading this post, head over to the list and read it first. Just click that link highlighted above. ……..

 

Okay, so now that you have read it…. I am not a feminist. I may have a few feminist ideals, but I think more that they are just common sense and equality in certain aspects. But on the whole, I tend to believe that men are the superior sex when it comes to strength, logical thinking (though sometimes I have to revise that when Mr. B is talking) and general fighting and political tactics.  I will honestly say I don’t have what it takes to think like a man. Nor do I want to.

And for the most part, I don’t feel oppressed by a male dominated world, though in all reality, it’s not half as dominated by men as it used to be 30 years ago. Women have made amazing strides with their lives, jobs, and etcetera.  So, again, not really a feminist, but still I felt this list was something that called to me.  Things I have dealt with in the past and still haven’t come to terms with.

Reading off the list in order….. I have had guys say I should do this, or I should do that. I should get rid of glasses, I should change the glasses, I should do this job or that job. Don’t wear this color, don’t have your hair that way. Women telling me I need to marry this boy or that boy or do this job or that job….. It can be kind of stressful fending off these comments.

I like doing things for guys. I want to be the homemaker (sometimes. Sometimes I wouldn’t mind if he would cook…. and clean a little).  I like the “wife/mom” roles in life. I 12107167_1040926229275315_7022155848237296182_nsaw it, grew up with it, my entire family, extended and all, had this as an example. It’s what I know and I like it.  But everyone wants me to have a career and why would I want to be, gasp, a homemaker?

Yep, I’m emotional. Damn right I am. But so what?! So freaking what? That doesn’t mean I can’t think. Sure, I might not think as well when I am emotional, but you telling me that I am this way does not help your case. At all. Mr. B has not figured this out .

While I can’t really say one way or the other if my relationships are deeper with a girlfriend vs boyfriend, I do know one thing, I can talk to my gals about some things that guys just don’t get, or don’t want to know about. We can commiserate together about those ‘times’ we are ’emotional’.

The biological clock thing irks me. Right at this time in my life, I don’t plan to have kids. That seems to really bother people. Go figure.

Number 6. About Moms…. I’ll just leave that one alone for now, but yeah, I agree with it.

Can’t say as I have been in the number 7 category, but I do get it, and I can get a little overboard sometimes.

I am terrible at asserting myself, but sometimes I really need to. And because I’m not good at doing it, it comes out wrong or people are offended because I do say “no.” Sigh.

Well number 9 is a given. If you aren’t sorry, why say it? And I have had to learn that sometimes when people say they are sorry, that doesn’t mean that all is forgiven because they said sorry.

Oh, I am forever feeling like I am pitted against other women. I compare myself to them. But it’s a nasty habit. I am me, and they are them…. We can’t all be alike.

I have been called crazy, but I still feel sane.

And lastly, sometimes I feel like I won’t survive without a specific guy’s approval. Boris in particular. But at the same time, good grief, half of what he tells me I don’t agree with. Why should I need his approval?  It’s something I do, feeling like I need everyone’s approval. I want people to like me, but honestly, that’s where asserting one’s self and not being a doormat comes in as well.

So those are just some of my opinions on the list. I’d love to hear what you have to say. And if you are a feminist, good for you. I have nothing against you personally. I may not agree, but that’s an opinion.  So, who likes this list? Who agrees or associates themselves with what’s on it? Tell me.

Only a few more days to enter the DaySpring Giveaway.  I urge you to enter with the link here  and  follow the giveaway widget instructions. Good luck, and thanks for reading!

The Home-Maker – A Persephone Book Review

Over the spring the wonderful Persephone Books gave me the opportunity to read and review their book The Home-Maker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher (Persephone book No. 7)  So while this is terribly late in coming, I do hope you enjoy this review, I hope you consider adding Persephone books to your list of book sources, and I also hope you might consider reading The Home-Maker.

This is a wonderful little gem of a book, little mostly in size, but not in story. No, indeed, this is the story about people. About life. About the interactions between family members when life isn’t so perfect even though from the outside, all appears to be perfection.

This story is set in a three person perspective; from Eva’s, Lester’s, and Stephen’s point of view. At the heart of the story is Eva Knapp. Mother of three and wife to Lester. She’s a perfectionist, a little controlling, but deep down, all she does and all she demands comes from her devotion to both the children and Lester. She worries about her willful son, Stephen, who at three seems to be going through that stage of almost being “like the traditional changeling, hard, heartless, inhuman.” Or so Lester, at one point, thinks to himself about his son. Stephen has his own troubles from a disappearing Teddy, to a mother who seems to always be correcting him. It’s a lot of work being only three.

Eva is also troubled with her two other children; Henry who has a weak system, and Helen who just needs guidance.  And lastly, she worries about her husband, who just doesn’t seem to have the drive to move up in the company he works for.

Lester is a dreamer. A writer. A man destined for more  than working the numbers at the Emporium.  Then suddenly he is faced with having been let go. How in the world he will ever tell Eva, knowing how much she relies on him, and how much he wants to give her, but can’t seem to make happen.  There is only one solution. To end his life and the insurance policy will take care of Eva and the children.

But the ‘accidental’ leap from the roof fails to accomplish what Lester was hoping, and now he is paralyzed from the waist down. Now life changes as Eva has to become the breadwinner and Lester the home-maker. Eva ends up working for the Emporium and making a smash of her position, moving up quickly. And Lester? Well, surprisingly, being a home-maker is the perfect job for him as suddenly there are happy children and a happy home.

Eva has a true purpose in life instead of always feeling like she can’t accomplish a perfect house, and Lester finally can be the dreamer he needs to be. The question is, will this continue this way? Will Lester ever recover and will Eva go back to being the housewife? It’s not till the very end of the book we find out.

I read this book quickly and found myself touched in so many ways. I can feel the inner desperation from Eva as she tries so hard to make everything just so, and just right for her family.  As she scrubs the floor trying to rid then of grease spots only to have her son dribble grease the next night. I wanted to cry for Eva because I saw myself in an instant what I could be if I was a mother. That turmoil to micromanage and control everything in an uncontrollable existence. Feeling like you are doing everything right while your own family thinks you don’t care a whit about them.

I want to scoop Stephen up and comfort him, but at the same time, when I see him from Eve’s side, I want to send him to his room with no supper.

Eva loves her husband from her side. Adores him practically. From Lester, he always feels like he can’t measure up. Eva adores her children, in her own way, but from their point, she’s always displeased with them.

This is a book about two sides of the story. And in a very simplistic view, a book about how sometimes the hand we are dealt in life is not what we should actually be doing. Sometimes the woman is just not the home-maker. And that’s okay.

I can honestly say this is a very impressive book and there are not too many books today that could ever match up to the mastery Dorthy Canfield Fisher has created in such a small novel. I would send this to any friend and feel I could read it again and again pulling out every nuance. This will be a book I treasure for years to come.

Again, I hope you consider trying out this book along with checking out Persephone Books. They are truly a little gem of the book world.

Kate

Late August Mornings and Looking Ahead

Rugburn, taking a selfie.... Okay, I held up the camera, but it looks like he is.

Rugburn, taking a selfie…. Okay, I held up the camera, but it looks like he is.

I’m up early this morning, and while 8am isn’t the crack of dawn, when you go to bed after two, 8 is early. My puppy, a 12 year old puppy mind you, has an unusual growth under his eye, the same eye that I had a cyst removed from back in June.  So it required calling the vet first thing this late August morning.  (and while I have to wait till Wednesday for a visit, I’m stressing. I mean, I don’t know what I would do without him)

It’s one of those mornings where it smells like almost fall.  Not quite there, but almost.  I feel like fall might come on a bit sooner this year because everything else seems to be coming on so fast.  Yet looking back, it I remember everything falling into place at its normal time. In July we had our massive heat spell, then out of nowhere, it broke with two weeks of rainy sort of coastal weather. Suddenly, Boom! There was that first hint of fall in the air.  I always hate when that happens because I actually like the summer heat and smells.  Okay, I can’t really handle anything above 95 and feel really good, but that’s beside the point.  I like summer. It’s usually the season I’m feeling the best.

You know it's late summer when the wild clematis is sending out it seeds.

You know it’s late summer when the wild clematis is sending out it seeds.

So here we are at a week from September.  Today is the first day of school… No really I just pulled up the School District and there it was. No one in my family could remember.  So it is like officially fall, in that pre sort of way that it happens a month before it reads on the calendar.  Truthfully though, after reading Liza Dalby‘s East Wind Melts the Ice, where she says how the seasons actually start before the date on the calendar, I never look at the dates on the calendar as accurate. I think about fall almost a month before it happens, while mentally grabbing a hold of ‘summer’ that is and trying to dig my heels in.  I want to wear shorts and summer camisoles as long as I can. I want to feel warm when I walk outside.  And gosh darn it! I want to keep my tan which is so pale since I have this super pale FinishGermanWelshIrishWhatnot skin. My tan is like what a normal person gets in one week of the summer.

I’m hoping though with the cooler weather (ha! right. considering it was 90+ degrees yesterday) that I might be able to settle down and write more. I have pretty much given up doing much major writing over the summer because it was hot, I was tired, there was so much to do, I was reading…….. excuses. Except for the fact that I just got a letter from Susan Wooldridge who said she wasn’t writing a lot either.  I need cooler weather to write. Granted, I have dabbled in some poetry. I have a couple marvelous ones that I’m happy with and some that I have half finished and various starts. Eventually I hope to have them finished.

I never know what to do with my poetry. Do I post it here? Do I try to publish it? I have this Coral flushed series I’m doing that sort of relate to Boris… Okay, fine, they are technically just for Boris, but in my opinion they are good. So what do I do with them?  I really like dabbling in poetry because it’s something ‘small’ but I can take it anywhere with me.  I have my little book and pencil, because I seem to like to write poetry in pencil unless I’m out and all I have is a pen and several pieces of scratch paper or the back of my library book receipts.(those are actually fun to write on)

Fiction is sometimes so BIG in feeling that I feel like I have to really sit down to write it. But poetry is really something you can take with you, even down to having a small Moleskin or Field Notes and pencil (or pen) in your back pocket You don’t have to take hardly anything with you. It kind of makes it this perfect thing to write, because even if you don’t really do poetry, everyone has a poem in them just from how they might describe a flower they just saw.

And now I’m starting to ramble off on a tangent that is far from what I was thinking when I sat down on the couch on the porch waiting for the coffee to finish perking and listening to the Stellars Jays…… Oh wow does that sound so good to me.

What I wanted to say was that I am going to be doing a 31 Days in October again.  This year the theme will be ladies, femininity and all things girly. Or relating to me since I’m a girl. I have to keep a few options open just in case I can’t figure out a post or two.  I need to start working on posts and plotting out some ideas a bit more, along with deciding what I want a button for the  challenge to look like and a place for all these posts to go. I didn’t like that I have a header tab that is for last years listing. Maybe I can add under that or something. I clearly did not thing about it at the time.

So, new stuff for October is coming…. along with three new book reviews this month. I received a book last Monday and by Wednesday, I was done.  Okay it was lightish reading, but still I flew through it.

And now I am at 900+ words. Wow, I really just let it all fly out. I should stop.

Until I write again at some random point. Happy Monday, Dearies. (September means OUAT is coming soon! Yes!)

Kate

Unmotivated Me

It’s not that I don’t have things to write about. It’s not even that I don’t have the time…. Okay, well time is limited right now. But I’m just not motivated to write.  I have a two book reviews I need to post, a book I need to finish reading before I can write a review, letters to friends, ideas for writing, a blog post on haying season, pictures….. The list goes on and on.

But right now about all I’m interested in doing is daydreaming and reading. I haven’t even written much of anything. Okay, that’s not true. I did write a poem just this last week titled “Elephants”. I should type it up and share it because I’m kind of proud of how it turned out.

I have been dabbling in a new piece of fiction which was inspired by ASMR and The French Whisperer over on Youtube. I seriously suggest if you are interested in ASMR to check his channel out. The tingles this guy can put up my spine….. Whew!  Magic. Puts me to sleep every time I listen to him at night.  Recently I listened to his take on the History of the Palace of Versailles.  That was really interesting for one, and really relaxing for another.  And I’m going off on a different tangent.

My reading has consisted of a bit of poetry; Rumi, Billy Collins, Rilke; an Emilie Loring, a few random fiction books, and the desire to read A Farewell to Arms and The Great Gatsby.  I have failed to finish anything nor get very far in anything.

One major reason for all this lack of motivation is right now the farming is in full swing.  What with watering, picking, and the heat….. well there isn’t a lot of down time. I am getting to the point of the season where I can spend two to three hours picking blueberries. Not to mention a few hours watering, oh and I cook two meals a day and do the laundry and pick up the house… Okay the house is kind of a joke right now.  There is way too much dust in all spots and I would NOT want anyone to come over.  Some places make me want to scream.

California is in a serious drought so watering is a conscious effort to not waste water.  Lawns? Pshaw! Those are going by the wayside except for where there are fruit trees because anyone who knows anything about gardening knows that fruit tree roots extend beyond what you think.  So the lawn around the trees gets watered.  And because this is a very dry year, the spider mites have set in.  On the positive side of things, the spider mites are the reason we have had burnt looking leaves on several plants for several years.  One would think it would be crazy to say that was a positive thing, but now I know that it wasn’t my fault in how I watered. Okay, indirectly it was because lack of water leads to the mites coming in, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t watering good enough, it was more that it wasn’t quite enough to deal with the infestation.

So, as you can see, it’s rather busy.  I hope to get a book review for a Christian romance up this week. And also Persephone Books let me read their book The Homemaker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher.  Marvelous book. I have been a bit behind with getting that review written as well.  And lastly, my post on haying season with pictures…..

So, hopefully soon this blog will be back into ship shape…. Excluding my random pages that need a serious updating.

I need a maid.

Le sigh, as Jules says.

 

Kate

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.