love hk. 4 what will not cannot be assimilated like you love your own uniqueness. love hk
Advertisements
Tag Archives: poem
boiled coffee mixed with cream
this morning i am jumping jacks
boiled coffee
mixed with cream
this morning is the day
you came into this world and
i am calling you
my kitten an alarm clock and
got me out of bed
i cook for you and me
the tibetan bell
the heartbeat
the love of my life
on the road again
i cannot count my blessings
but
i can sit here at my desk
beat up the old english
language for a while
all what makes life @ 46
worth living
alto
she swims alongside the current she
follows the sun into the sea
after many days of searching they
presumed her drowned
they knew nothing of the changes or
how she made it through
she may as well have died
she cuts through open water
she moves the breath of life
she has come awakened
to meet the deepest sea
be like a poem never will be written
how does one describe the exhalation of breath
the incomplete gesture the
tangible space suddenly
apparent?
there is a part of me died with you
a fragment
a trailing cry pulling at my hair
wanting to lash out and
break…
something to see
the color of blood as
a way in
as a way out
to look for you
all this is like a poem that never will be written
to die to find you
to leave this alien place premature
and come home
reticent was the dawn
reticent was the dawn ona summer morning. the birds chatted outlandishly at the edge of the river. all the people couldn’t bother, full of coffee stepping on it, reaching speeds just shy of too fast for the highway. -katya
still life on a freeway
6pm. weeknight. seeing red.
gone still in the center of
an interstate. no one knows
this place like i do
ground is polished smooth
like marble
i can find my way home
by sea glass in
stone
k #archive
Atlantis, times three
Posted on July 28, 2013 by KatYa
i am trying to find myself
between commercials
apparently
i am located
somewhere deeper
than that
Atlantis
times three
i remember almost dying
the weight
was too great
i got
stepped on
like flagstones
I saw you there
we could touch
almost
through our
imperial pints
of tears
drowning
Atlantis
times three
i got stripped
like a stripper
but without
so much
a choice
off the walls
in the paint
in the darkness
the memory
faint
gracefully
i laced up
to give them
something
2 remember
gracefully
i tried then
2 forget
sometimes
i grabbed the knives
in the kitchen
and turned
toward them
screaming
its real painful
to look
i could drown
in it
Atlantis
times three
i found me
by looking
baptized
by watercolor
bled down
in the city
bled out
to the valley
sweet canvas
of colors
shelters me now
the painted walls
i like to
leave them
this way
i am different
i am young
my spirit
touched by
the sound
of the colors
dripping down
Atlantis
times three
is where
i am found
-Katya
July, 2013
