If You Can...

"If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same..." From IF by R. Kipling 

"To This Day" Be about your own beauty!

This is too powerful not to share. Why do we relate to the underdog? Because we have all been there...most of us powerfully so. Yet, out culture of youth (particularly in the educational environment) is one where we allow and support behavior of making ourselves feel better by belittling others. I double dog dare you to watch this Spoken Word poem...

The Puppet Man - A Poem

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears or ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting
program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

i see your faces, swoons and frowns
watching fixed, puppet take puppet down
they 're not real, your thoughts remind
while i silently die standing behind

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

with human hate they dance for you
showing the worst the we can do
superb! delight! encore' you shout
so once more the toys come out

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

the lights are gone, empty isles now
i fall broken wondering how
these hands will heal, gather strength again
so, you can watch through my gift, friend

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man

-Kim E. Williams

Mind Trash - A Poem

Mind Trash

Trembling thoughts hold

Tenaciously

Dog-eared photos

Warped eyes search

Wandering

Among lost silhouettes

Recollection yields

Reluctantly

Finding memories lost

Piercing shards threaten

Precisely

This moment

-Kim E Williams

Saturday Me

We were told to expect snow

Snow, again.

Greeted by crisp hope and freezing air

We waited…

Dogs sniffing the air and each other

Hawks sat and wrapped themselves in feather shawls

Discreet expectations

Anticipation of broken routines that might

Hold us captive to our homes

Caressed by comforting teas and cakes

It didn’t snow.

Still, we stayed home, held the dogs

Surrendering to self-imposed captivity

Saturday morning…me

-Kim E. Williams

Sipping Moonshine

She is Moonshine...

Harvest moon, radiant blast across the horizon
diminishing anything near the sound of her light
taunting us with the threat of reverting to a simple, normal
part of our world if we look too late or move too close.

She is Moonshine

Full moon, raising werewolves and iconic myths
making day of the darkness and drawing
florescent strokes across every able bodied pond
waving boldly coming too in due cycle

She is Moonshine...

Shiva moon, a promise and goodbye
deadly waxing and waning of war and peace
the confidently ignored reminder of our mortality
veiled carelessly by translucent clouds

She is Moonshine...

Day time moon, pale and out of place
whimsically demanding to be seen
unafraid of the brightest sun or the bluest mood
a broad daylight

She is Moonshine...

To drink, clear, forbidden and dangerous
Intoxicating, even in small portions
Promising to burn you from throat to belly
And warm your bowels through the coldest doubts

She is Moonshine...

and she needs light, bright hot
consuming fire to pour forth upon her
flares of character and promise to reach
out to her for her light is
in all its shapes and sessions
reflected from another one.

Amusing Awareness - A Poem

Amusing Awareness

Why do you remain
There
A brush by my world
Radiating
Passion against my senses
Leaving
Me longing for more?

Your voice sang today
Mournful
Lyrics of loss and hope
Ascending
Tones of fluttering union
Scattered
Eternally within my mind

Haunting.

The Last Cicada - Re-Post Poetry

The last cicada sings
Into the crisp fall air
A final call of
Fall’s end, winter’s era

Leaves cling
To branches high
Not one wants
To release and die

A father dreams
Of his son’s flight
But silence returns
From this season’s night

[Chorus]
Seasons change
Seasons go
Season remain
Ever so slow

Summer leaves
To find its fall
The stillness breaks
Upon us all


The last cicada sings
The final tear falls
We are cold
We are so small

A baby cries
Her first breath of life
Mother’s arms are gone
An women will live in strife

[Chorus]

Sometimes we must burrow
Deep into the earth
Waiting there, searching
For the matter of our birth

Remembering when we can
That as this begins
We can return as
The last cicada sings

[Chorus]

The last cicada sings
Into the crisp fall air
A final call of
Fall’s end, winter’s era

Leaves cling
To branches high
Not one wants
To release and die


NOTE: in the depths of a hike in SC, i heard a lone cicada. while only weeks before i had heard the deafening noise of their community screaming, only one remained. the words above come from that last cicada's song.

9/11 Remembering

Eagles weep the dust of fury

            Glory droops in a breeze filled sky

Trumpets howl forth silence

            Blind eyes gaze on dust and pry

Paradox rains upon sweltering souls

            Discordant melodies find no harmonic tone

Sleeping giants fail to wake

Dreams of horror in daylight come

Restrained talons seek to rip

            Flesh and bone. Retribution wails

Bridled shouts from viper lips           

             Broken tongues speechless, still

Such foreign chaos, grief born questions

            Here rests doubt, fear rooting

Anger to pain beget rage

Tearing fabric, destroying the shoot

A blast through heart’s cage

            Cries, screams and eternal rage

Why! Demands our soul

            Why? Defiant voices entreat

Into this realm of despair

            Touching sinew of exposed hope

Lifting corpse-like remains

            Our Hope stands, lifted hands

In a speechless voice the whisper comes

            Gentle words rock our perilous stance

Words carefully spoken, deeply heard

            Faith, Hope, Love the memory calls

Again, glorious birds will find their songs

            Heavy banners will lift in a gentle breeze

Clarion call of brass sounds, proclaims

            Life has come and still remains

-Kim E Williams

September 12, 2001

Mind On Drift - Poem

Mind On Drift...

Time in the yard.
Cooling down from Summer, and I can feel it in the air.
Eager leaves are already dancing to the ground, life's boldness is waning.
The stillness of the coming season settles into my mind.
iPod on shuffle.
Mind on drift.

James Kavanaugh - Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves

THERE ARE MEN TOO GENTLE TO LIVE AMONG WOLVES
A Poem by James Kavanaugh

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men too gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder then for a merchant's profit and gain.
There are men too gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of candied apples and ferris wheels
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves.
Who devour them with eager appetite and search
For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.
There are men too gentle for an accountant's world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove.
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world.
Unless they have a gentle one to love.

Emotions Make for Bloody Poetry!

Yesterdays deeds descend on raptors wings

talons flare and slice into my mind

tearing through the carefully constructed facade of hope

i bleed, into tomorrow

ancestoral wounds reopen with vengence

defecting logic and maming reason

proclaiming the torment of self loathing valid

i bleed, drip with sorrow

(re-post from some time in 2002)

A Poem About Hiking - Feelings and Emotions

Hiking It Off

The earth under foot

Passes

Thought fades into

Absence

Embraces singularity

Feels

Effortless striding

Forth

Coming homeward

Bound

Less of me resting

Heavy

Burdens dripping

Soaking

Into the soil beneath

Me

IF, by Rudyard Kipling

One of my favorite, all time poems is "If" by Rudyard Kipling. I was introduced to this verse early in life, and the words have always challenged me to be more, risk boldly and balance my living more evenly between the elation and despair dished out by life's moments. Enjoy (for those of you would are "Pinterested" - I've included an image below).

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


-Rudyard Kipling

Source: media.photobucket.com via Kim on Pinterest

In From The Sea - Poetry Repost

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear the

crackle of palm fronds breaking free from the heat
hiss of sea oats defiantly bowing inland
whisper of sand celebrating its lofty release from gravity
sputter of foam cascading skyward cut from wave caps
chimes of delicate shells dancing across dunes

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear the
prayers of ancient mariners reaching home.

Poetry Re-Post: Entanglement

By the last micro thread of the spider’s web
Hanging
In a delicate balancing between desire to be free
From the casket of this cocoon
And to be safe from the fall to the ground

How came I upon this entanglement
But by little things, single threads of erroneous
Actions
Quiet discontentment resting feather-light
Clinging unassumingly to the sleeve of my façade

Until

Movement through my own self
Became hindered and slowly, progressed to
Halting proportions lost in one immobile
Case
Suspended by the last filament of my attachment

To you

(originally posted 1/9/09)

Airport Waiting

While the air roars overhead
Methodical. Arrhythmic. Pulsing.
While the seconds tick away
Tick. Tock. Humming.
While cars stop and go
Lights on. Lights off. Horns.
While I await your arrival
I don't dare breath until
Your touch down
Into my heart
Again

A Poem About Friendship

No Space Among Us

words anxiously spoken

falling upon one another

incessant

cascade

                full

pounding down

rocky words

after a while the constant sound

is

numbing

speech without pause

between thoughts

leaving

no gap for new ideas

reminding us of the precious

gems

of silence

between friends

________________________

Award Notice

Thank You to The Poetry Palace for the Perfect Poet Award, Week 54.

I nominate Paige for the next award.

Announcing Word Wednesday

Starting this week, I'll be adding a weekly themed post, Word Wednesday, to Kim's Korner.

The post will focus on a fun word (perhaps commonly known, but seldom used), the definition and some playful writing based on the understanding or misunderstanding of that word!

I hope you will join us for Word Wednesday - starting this week!

The Gut of It - A Thought in Stanzas

Get to the gut of it, that tight, twisting, acidic scream of the belly
There you will find you and the you that longs to be more
Pain demands change...limits, contorts and defines

She always loved me, to a fault
When it hurt inside I could depend on her, her compliments, her advocacy, her mothering
The pain would always go, run out with laughter or perspective, or distraction

It's not her fault I could never love myself, to a fault

There is the gut of it
Loving oneself through the faults