Category Archives: Poetry

Thoughts on ‘being a writer’

Some mornings

I spend hours in my head

Writing poems

Dancing with singed hearts

And kissing strangers.

 

Some afternoons

I sip lukewarm coffee and eat

Sour candy,

Talking to myself,

Spewing thoughts onto penned paper,

Daydreaming of editors

Fancying my plight

To be a writer.

 

Oddest occupation —

Fictionally, speaking.

No wonder

I crave touch

So desperately

The only true affirmation

Of my life’s work.

I hear you, they say.

I know.

 

Silent speaker of the world

I am

Sickly mind squashing

Courage

Hungry to try again, sometimes,

Provided inspiration.

 

Lazy, perhaps

Weird, perhaps

Maybe definitely special

They say.

Maybe.

 

I am a writer

Head inside a dream

Come true,

Or is it?

To all my friends who ask about the book

I don’t want to say it

Because when you say things out loud

Then people know what you’re up to

Which is terrifyingly awkward

When they don’t give you the reaction you’d

Hoped for

 

That’s the problem with hope

And expectation

They always leave your stomach gurgling

With embarrassment,

Grit and grime left on your teeth

After you choke on reality

And belly your illusions once again

 

So I’ll whisper what it is I’m doing

With my eyes

The way I bite my lip

The incessant brush of fingers through my hair

When you ask me ‘how I’m doing’

And what I’ve been up to lately

 

Can’t you see

Right here

Right now?

This

Is my answer.

 

blog tree ki stuffs

Stay tuned

Cheers, readers.

 

It begins

I live it

I breathe it

And now it’s all I want to do

 

I thought for a while

How do I explain it to everyone?

Then I thought,

Stop thinking and start writing

 

And that’s all I do these days

I can’t explain it

I just wake up and it begins

And keeps going

Until my eyes rest at night

And even when I sleep, it writes itself

Onto my brain

And before I know it

I’m awake writing bits and pieces

Of everything I think I thought

And it begins again

And again, every day

 

And each time I doubt everything

I do

My lover’s eyes whisper

Keep going

And that’s exactly what I do.

It begins.

———————-

I’ll be writing more freely like this for a while. I find the unstructured, poetic style comforting. I find it truthful, I find it healing. I’ll be touching on all aspects of my life – Relationships, heartache, mommyhood, love, loss, friendships – openly and freely for all of you to see. I’ll use names when it’s appropriate to do so, and poetic verse when it’s not. I can’t wait to begin this raw writing approach… I guess I’ve already begun.

Now to begin sharing with you all what I’ve been thinking, feeling, realizing, and WRITING for the past few weeks. I won’t share too many details just yet — But, during my LifeofKi hiatus, I began somewhat of a personal project, and it is beautifully molding how I see and write about the world inside and outside of myself. This is my life, these are my thoughts, dreams, hopes, and fears – unguarded. All of it for you to see in the weeks to come! I’m ready to do this. I’m ready to speak about it all. I’m ready. Now, it begins. I can’t wait to hear what you think.

Cheers, readers.

photo

 

 

Rock and a soft place

Sometimes I find big rocks

And climb under

Every ounce of their weight

Upon me

And the heaviness saves me from the

Light

I hide within

 

Chewing on thick

Black dirt

As I wait it out.

 

Darkness

Loneliness

Embrace with

Open arms to those chronically ill

From agony.

 

Sometimes the darkness

Turns warm

From the sun

 

Rocks lift

From my crushing bones

I breathe a breath

Shared with you

And you laugh at

The absurdity of my

Climbing under

Dirty rocks.

 

I laugh in nervous anticipation,

Eye a boulder that will

Consume me

Soon again.

 

We laugh together,

And this is comforting

But not as comforting

As the agony that bleeds

In me.

 

Now I live,

Swimming in the space

Between a rock

And a soft place.

 

 

–Original Poem–

Human interaction is a peculiar thing. Describing what goes on in this head of mine is always so difficult in plain verse. I could talk about depression, anxiety, dark thoughts, but I’d rather just tell you that sometimes I hide under heavy rocks, and this is comforting, more so than truly living…. But it is in breaking free from my agony that allows for my passion of writing to continue. And in writing, I live. One day at a time.

I hope you find your passions, your hopeful ways of escape from the mundane, from the agony that you feel sometimes.

Keep living through the heaviness of the world. Keep going. Keep swimming.

What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.

-Charles Bukowski

Cheers, readers.

for blog -- rocks

Calling

Sometimes I find myself laying on the floor at weddings wresting ugly thoughts that scream at me, telling me I’m not beautiful, not worthy, I don’t deserve to be here on this Earth celebrating with wonderful people. And then I look up at tiny lights on the ceiling that are actually a direct reflection of lights within me. For the most powerful images are not those from our past, nor the ones that lay ahead; they are the voices and images that lay patiently within us. So I wrote a poem about that day, at a wedding, laying on the floor.

 

————————————————–

 

My efforts to love you

Tossed away.

A severed connection,

You put me at bay.

 

Now I find myself in a beautiful house, with beautiful people, with a beautiful spouse.

 

And I lay on the floor only to find,

Nothing consumes me like you

On the mind.

 

I look up.

I see a miraculous sight.

Colors glowing, illustrious light.

I wonder why it is you treat me this way.

Flip of the switch

We’re strangers that lay.

 

One day you love me,

I’m beautifully so

Exquisite like diamonds

Inside, I glow.

 

Yet today we are strangers

With hollowed eyes

Ignoring passion

For you,

Hear the cries.

 

Tonight I know you have left my side

Your abandon, I surrender. You win. I abide.

How long will this last? Who me? I don’t know.

The mirror shouts reflections you refuse to show.

 

This love, it is patient.

This love is for you.

Though you won’t wait for me,

I’ll wait for you.

 

I say I, when I mean we.

For I am you

And you dear, are me.

I speak to you daily

Can’t you see?

I am the light

That only you can set free.

Love me completely.

This is how it must be.

Surrender yourself

Let go

And breathe.

This you know, we both truly need.

 

Love yourself,

That’s all I will say.

That’s all I want

For you each day.

 

Look up at those lights as you lay on this floor,

It’s me, I’m calling, please do not ignore!

Get up now dear

Please lay no more.

Reach out, be brave

Now open the door.

 

I’m calling.

for me from missy

–Original Poem (original artwork created by a beautiful soul and friend of mine)–

I challenge you to listen today. Listen to the voice within. Stop for a moment. Don’t look forward, don’t look behind, look at what is calling out to you in this moment. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you hear it? It’s you. Won’t you accept this beautiful gift?

Love and light,

Ki 

 

 

Would you?

Lucas

Your nostrils flare

Just like your dad’s

When you chew.

 

And your cheeks,

Rosy as hell

Like his, too.

 

I think you’re beautiful

When you lie to me

And say I’m beautiful.

 

For a moment

I believe you.

Each moment adds up,

Trust me.

Maybe instead,

I should trust you.

 

You don’t know it yet

But I started a book

For you

Filled with everything you say

That leaves me struck

In awe of your wisdom.

 

“The sun speaks with her light,

I can feel her.”

You said this,

Among countless other

Lucasisms.

 

Do you know how proud of you I am?

Do you know how amazing you are?

Do you know how much you scare me?

 

I’d do anything for you,

Would you promise

To forever and unconditionally be

Lucas?

 

would you blog post

–Original Poem, for my love–

@kileybw

Facebook

 

Burning out

Out of your mother’s womb

Out of this world, you came.

Out of your mind in

Outer space, we remain.

 

Starry-eyed,

In awe of your aura,

I reach for you in a darkened space.

No spoken word.

What is this love, unheard?

Gravity, make us one from two

This I beg of you.

 

Each morning you show yourself,

And I swim to you.

Each night you disappear,

And I remain.

Tell me this is not love, my sun.

 

Your warmth lives me

As I dance around a sickly mind

Swaying, melting into our axis of desire.

Curtsy and waltz away for a time.

Tell me, how is the view?

 

Meet me at the moon

Mediation will caress us both

Just as I long to caress you, and you,

Me.

Making waves as we travel closer.

 

Earthlings can only imagine

A kind of

Burning out.

This love, it begs release.

 

Come out of you.

Come out of me.

Shine these lights on each other

Blending all that we are

Intertwined.

 

Let it burn out of your heart

Out of your body

Out of this world

Just as you emerged,

Allow it.

 

We are but stars burning out,

Time

An imagined friend of ours,

Plaguing our delusional lives,

Whispering sweet tomorrows.

What are you waiting for?

 

I know you’re scared

Of a love that burns so deeply within,

But I fear never unveiling the true essence of mine.

 

I may be your fool,

But every inch of this fading body

Carries a piece of love

Now seen

For you, my dear sun.

 

burn out blog post

 

–Original Poem–

 

I am so grateful for friends who encourage me to live, love, and let it out. Thank you, always.

-Ki

Listen

Lend your ear to a flower. I think this is what she’d say….

 

——————————

You ask, what might my thoughts entail?

Well human, my language is beautifully frail.

I will whisper my thoughts, my wisdom, my strife

If you promise to listen to a simpleton’s life.

 

My birth, so humble, in a cold, damp place

Where transformation ignited my elegance and grace.

From the darkness I rose to a world brand new.

Brains remain dazed, “How is it possible she grew?”

 

As I stretch each day, my roots finger deep.

My inner is hopeful to unburden my grief.

My stem I admire — such strength to the core

But passersby gawk and lust after more.

 

Hypnotic scent upon my petals, “It is certain,” They say

“That diligent bees will visit one day.”

But the bees I loathe, for they come and they go.

It is the sun who sustains my desire to grow.

 

Do you follow, dear human?

Do you hear what I say?

Can you feel the music

Of my silent display?

 

I stand here rooted, observant of you.

You humans amaze me at how much you ‘do.’

You work, you wander, you question, you squander.

No wonder you flock as you do.

 

Step away from the bustle, you all come in herds.

Leave your cities behind to admire my words,

But why do you pick me so?

 

You lust after beauty,

You see me, you use me

And open the wounds I have sewn.

 

Can you feel my death

In your brilliant displays

On your tables, in vases, in windowed cafes?

When my frailty shows, tossed away I go

And you forget my life and my gift.

 

So human, you see, life is simple to me:

Born, I grow

To the world, I show

Love is the way, I know.

 

Do not pick me now,

Please step away somehow

For my gift can be yours

If you open Love’s doors

To abundance galore

This I know for sure.

 

Just please do not take me, bend me, or break me.

To possess me is not love at all.

 

Stroke me, smell me, do as you please

But leave me to bask in this cool spring breeze.

Live slowly and love all that Is on Earth.

Recycle my message

To ignite your rebirth.

 

I love you, dear human.

Do you love me too?

Reciprocity heals.

Let’s breathe

Anew.

 

–Original Poem—

 

So many thanks to a wonderful friend who challenged me to write from the perspective of a flower and divulge my thoughts and feelings. I am beyond grateful for your creativity, inspiration, and encouragement to post this poem to the blog. Sending light and love to you! Namaste.

Light

I wrote a poem a few months ago for a man who is and has been a constant source of inspiration as I continue to write, parent, live, and breathe. I met his ‘book of poems’ in a humble bookstore near downtown Indianapolis. My hands were drawn to his book, and I sat on the floor of the bookstore, devouring his words until digestion of each poem was complete. 101 pages later, I bought the book – and it sits patiently on my desk each day, awaiting our inevitable encounter. One poem in particular, ‘Delicate,’ I will never forget. I read it over and over and over again. I read it weekly, sometimes multiple times a day. I cry every time. It touches me in a way not many poems have touched me. I am asked by readers, who inspires me? Where do I find inspiration? What ignites the fire within? Trees and nature inspire so many posts and poems, yes, but Jules R. Ryckebusch is a very beautiful source of light that I keep close by – literally. On days when I am feeling defeated, I take his book with me – to run errands, go to the library, even to the gym! How do I even begin to thank him for his bright presence in my life? The only way I know how….

 

—————————————————————

 

I pick up your book

And remember why

My stubborn fingers refused departure

The first time.

 

Your poem, ‘Delicate’

Did you write that for me?

It’s as though you reached

Into my soul and stole

A piece for yourself.

That would explain the title of your book:

Tangible & Other Poems.

 

You are a man intimate with death,

Love, Sorrow, Joy.

Surely you have suffered in this life

I can feel it, I do. I hear you, too.

Thank you for sharing this with me.

 

I find solace in the gifts we share

As writers and parents,

Roles plagued with uncertainty

And woven with unspeakable bliss.

 

You say what I cannot.

Gracefully,

Carefully, concisely,

Eloquently,

You speak.

How is it possible that I know you

Though our eyes remain foreign?

 

I touch these pages

As if to reach you.

I wonder if you touched the pen

Used to write these poems,

In hopes of reaching me?

 

–Original Poem—

photo

 

Delicate

-Jules R. Ryckebusch

 

“The finest china and glass is delicate,

The fragility hides the extremety

Of its fire born life.

 

Sometimes there is a beauty in things

Easily broken because they are precious

And have to be handled with kindness.

 

The gods, it seems, made you delicate.

I think I might be understanding why

They took a young girl and taught her to fly.”

 

May 18, 2006

From: Tangible & Other Poems

 

Swim Into Me

The sound of your eyes,

Enchanting whispers,

Ignite a fire deep in my bones.

Sirens to my soul.

Oh dear Odysseus, to emulate your resistance,

My feeble heart cannot.

Now these eyes, they call out to me, why?

 

Each pupil spills a secret,

Enticing elixirs enter my body.

Exit upon intoxication of my entire being.

Why do you elicit such thoughts?

Why do you excite me so?

 

Dark chocolate irises

Tempt me —

Shall we dance in a sea of unknowns?

Each cornea cries,

Swim into me!

Undress the veil of thought!

This moment of uncertainty,

Blissful eternity,

Don’t blink!!

For surely you’ll lose me.

 

A song sung soothingly,

You invite me in tactfully,

Those eyes.

Why yes, I’ll be your cup of tea.

Promise to drink me in thoroughly?

Why deny these eyes

Laid so gently upon me?

 

 

–Original Poem–

 

 

I challenge you to look into someone’s eyes today. Feel what only his/her eyes say to you. We can say so many ‘things’ without uttering a word. Body language speaks volumes. You just have to listen.

Cheers, readers!

 

photo