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Vicki Kralapp May 10
The heavens cry for us below,
who struggle through the times we know,
for us to waken from this night to day.

While sadness wraps and clothes us all,
the silent death whose lives befall,
uncushioned in our quarantine we wait.

As sorrow leaks from out our eyes,
we’ve no one left to heed our cries,
though many of the world have tried and failed.

And while this nightmare plays its game,
we watch in horror and in shame,
as mirrors to our souls this virus holds.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Apr 28 · 21
Vicki Kralapp Apr 28
Within the world we’ve made our bed,
amidst the plagues I lay my head,
together as we struggle to survive.

My heart, though heavy for those lost,
I struggle with the debt and cost,
within our nation’s fragile future life.

I cannot fathom, nor believe,
our current state we’ve paid much heed
and listened to the future of our earth.

Though heavy on my heart it weights
Life’s giving us some brighter ways,
to count each day a precious future life.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp Apr 21
Your voices whisper on the wind,
a haunting sigh; your spirit’s breath.
Entrapped the day your light was dimmed;
within the spot your bodies bled.

Amidst the ruins of yesterday,
your apparitions call to mind,
and heavily they weigh upon,
the childhood heart I left behind.
A very personal poem about the loss of my childhood friends and the trauma that ensued.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Apr 21 · 29
Vicki Kralapp Apr 21
When summer makes its curtain call,
and warm winds die, just after fall,
before the winter ice storms play,
and take their place upon the stage.

Your curtain lifts for just one week,
as autumn colors reach their peak
and dazzle us with one last play,
before the audience turns away.

With one last act before the night,
of bitter cold and frozen white.
That final night, you give your all,
and leave with final curtain’s fall.

At last, when autumn comes again,
it brings along its native friend,
and Summer dances on the stage
of vibrant colors, on display.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Apr 21 · 27
Vicki Kralapp Apr 21
Your essence scribbled on paper,
it's pain purged from my heart.
From a single corner, a flame
ignites, incinerating your memory.

Slowly, the flame builds,
engulfing all pain;
the part of you that remains,
as you drop from my hand.

Silently, the flame flickers out,
and you turn to ashes, crumpled,
leaving only the black you are,
smoldering within the recesses of yesterday.

Washed clean by flame and water,
encircling a hole of death,
like the vultures you were,
now washed from sight and heart.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp Apr 21
I strolled this street of opulence,
where snow, it seems, tastes twice as sweet,
and magic smells assail our sense,
and music dances on the breeze.

The air of grandness on this street,
with buildings dressed in twilight rose.
Aristocrats with wealth, replete,
are dressed to taste this evening snow.

But truthfully the difference lies,
within the heart of those who see,
the truth inside the fantasy,
when snow falls on this Paris street.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Mar 21 · 75
Vicki Kralapp Mar 21
As we prepare for life ahead,
our days are spent in mortal fear,
amidst the news and rumors lie,
in gloom our futures seem unclear.

This fear, its blackness lies in wait;
of ceaseless, unrelenting stress,
this unseen monster steals our days,
and fills our nights with great unrest.

Tomorrow’s fears become today’s;
they paralyze and strip us bare,
as all must face tomorrow’s wave,
in this pandemic world we share.

But with this fear, yet comes the hope,
for all of mankind to embrace,
to look for stars amidst the night;
and feel the light of morning’s grace.

For though our path is hard to bear,
yet brighter days will come to pass,
reminding all who these times share:
of every moment’s preciousness.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Mar 2 · 57
We’re a bit of the heavens,
we’re made of the stars,
of the Power beyond us,
the cosmos and Mars.

The heavens we’re part of,
has given us birth,
we’re part of its royalty,
stardust, and earth.

Our body, a shell,
for what’s living inside;
our spirit, the power,
that’s waiting to fly.

This spirit, though royal,
our life is so brief,
we lose sight of our purpose,
while time acts like a thief.

Oft we take life for granted,
if we’d only see,
we’re a part of the stardust,
and of its majesty.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Feb 15 · 60
Vicki Kralapp Feb 15
Your final words, “I love you”;
you mouthed them in your sleep
then drifted off to join the realm,
of where we all will sleep.

My hand I held upon your brow,
we said our last goodbyes,
and blessed you as you left the room,
as your soul took winged flight.

Though twenty and some years ago,
you left us far behind,
a silent space inside my heart,
is grieving still, I find.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Feb 15 · 90
Vicki Kralapp Feb 15
My broken heart, now aches for you,
I long to steal away your pain.
Your life, yet touched in shades of blue,
and gray amidst the falling rain.

While days now seem as if surreal,
and energy has been erased,
allow yourself the time to heal,
and wrap yourself in love’s embrace.

But life is brief, no guarantee,
for what our future will foretell,
so we must live beyond routine;
embracing ev’ry moment well.

So when our time has come at last,
to bid our life on earth adieu,
with no regret we leave the past,
to dance on heaven’s morning dew.

So though your heart is bleeding now,
and pain surrounds your ev’ry bend,
your grief will lessen, this I vow,
and peace will find you in the end.
For Emily...

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Feb 13 · 160
Vicki Kralapp Feb 13
I feel your arms around me
as I think of you today,
and like so many other times,
send letters as I pray.

You left us oh so long ago;
a lifetime, so it seems,
and often visit as I sleep,
if only in my dreams.

Your spirit still so present here;
so oft you bring me calm,
and with this heav’nly letter,
send my love up to you, Mom.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Feb 13 · 51
Vicki Kralapp Feb 13
Insidious is your hold on those
in your grasp,
depleting all life and energy
from loved ones,
as we watch them waste away
to nothingness.

Pain is the king of all;
we are under your spell,
visiting family, friends,
and loved ones
with your blackness,
as we writhe in agony.

Cancer, you *******!
You’ve taken my heart,
and taunt me as those I love
fall to your
armies of
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Feb 12 · 138
Vicki Kralapp Feb 12
I’ve walked this graying, foreign land,
inviting me to tread its dust,
I’ve questioned why, this rugged path,
and why I’ve had to brave so much.

I’ve cried so many useless tears,
for heartbreaks life has trust on me,
which left my journey full of fears,
tormenting me incessantly.

Yet in this world that I’ve trudged through,
I’ve found some gifts I can’t ignore;
the childhood love I wished I knew,
and quiet that my strength restored.

So, with my feet set on the moon,
earth’s vision forms in front of me,
and I embrace this distant dune,
where I’ve been sent to be set free.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Waiting for the springtime warmth,
to melt away the snows,
I see the green of springtime growth,
break through the crust below.

Through long and frigid winter months
and dangers that were fraught,
our northern states have braved the cold,
that mother nature brought.

Through banks of ice cream frosted snow,
that wrapped the land in white,
the brave green shoots of newborn grass,
peek through with morning's light.

The cold is lifting, none too soon;
it’s fled before the melt,
and left this wanting, summer soul,
rapt with the joy I've felt.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Dancing to the distant strains,
of Neil Young’s Harvest Moon.
beneath October’s starlit skies,
we sang this classic tune.

While fireworks lit the darkened path,
we twirled away the night,
and gazed into each other’s eyes,
while waiting for first light.

Your lips met mine beneath the light,
as passion filled our hearts,
reflected in the bonfire’s blaze,
that lit the forest schwartz.

Though many years have since flown by,
and both have gone our ways,
I still can feel the crisp fall air,
as we loved the night away.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Once through my bolted windowpane, so oft I saw the angry rain,
and as my life lie on the floor, I once endured a tortured war.
And through those rain-streaked by-gone days, my world was stained a muddied gray,
while fighting through the struggles of each day.

But now my window's open wide, the vastness of today can’t hide,
I see a world of brilliant hues, through eyes that see a different view.
‘Tis hope that brings me to my feet, and makes me dance with joy complete,
to sounds of life that come with bliss so sweet.

Life calls me now upon the wind, to join it’s dance of life again,
it brings joy to this aging soul, for what was broken, now’s made whole,
and through that window now I see, the beauty life was meant to be;
like magpies singing on the morning breeze.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jan 30 · 91
Vicki Kralapp Jan 30
As I walk the morning beach alone,
with sunlight on my face,
I search to find these treasured bits
in this, a magical place.

These gifts the seas give endlessly,
are tossed before my hands,
all wet with the foamy surf-brought brine,
they glisten in the sand.

A dwelling once for housing life,
discarded now they find,
a special place within the one,
with solitude of mind.

This quiet life of beachcombers,
we know it all too well,
need silence, peace, and beauty,
as we search for more than shells.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jan 29 · 49
Vicki Kralapp Jan 29
Anger coursing through my veins;
seething, unrelenting,
each time you come to mind.
I relive your reign of terror.

You wore your education
like a mantle to hide the darkness inside;
using your position to control those around you,
making them scream out in pain.

What gives you the right?
Who are you to think you can use your power
to bully those around you,
little man?
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jan 8 · 49
Peeking through the blackness,
the ghosts of yesterday stir.
Reaching for help that comes too late,
creatures cry as they melt into the ground

Orange tongues lick the dry tinder,
as firenadoes twist in their death-rolls.
The heroes of the day wipe their brow
while the world looks on in horror and mourns.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Nov 2019 · 234
Vicki Kralapp Nov 2019
You’ve made your legacy
bullying those around you,
dressing down those who
appeared less in the chain of edibles.

Pushing to the brink of suicide
those you could,
surrounding yourself with “yes men”
while those of honor drown.

But your small and insignificant life
can no longer hurt me,
only memories in dreams
as fading dinosaurs chase me down.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Oct 2019 · 421
Vicki Kralapp Oct 2019
The evening sun bids me adeau,
reflected like jewels on Caribbean blue;
it’s diamonds dance on ribbons of sea,
as nature’s song floats back to me.

While flaming violets paint the sky;
an impressionist artwork from on high,
all Earth’s creatures seem to hush,
at the beauty of nature’s one true brush.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 226
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
While all about me wild winds rage, I stand amidst the calm,
and wait for gales to raze that which is loved;
as storms return to pummel me and bring me to my knees,
while skies above let loose their mighty flood.

Amidst this massive hurricane I search to find a light,
but in that place of gray I find my pluck,
in a place of calm and solitude I gather strength to fight,
through turmoil in each moment that is struck.

I kneel now at this threshold, and pray to heaven above,
for added heart to get me through this war,
to ease my pain and guide my feet while fighting through these storms,
and place me once again on life’s calm shores.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 193
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
I’ve searched the world for signs of me,
since I was but a child,
but never found the one within,
who chose to dwell inside.

I’ve known my passion for the arts,
would someday guide my days,
and found the world a wonderland,
to visit on my way.

But never did I know myself,
however hard I’d try,
for I'd been locked behind the bars,
that others built to hide.

A soul which yearned to see beyond,
a female lacking choice,
to be the one created strong,
without a proper voice.

But deep inside this chrysalis,
no wings to set her free,
was growing strength to be herself;
what she was meant to be.

That tiny soul awaiting dawn,
the day I’d finally see,
the beauty hidden deep inside;
a song of love for me.

At last I’ve met this silent soul,
freed from me deep inside;
this woman filled with grace and love,
no longer needs to hide.

I’ve finally woken to a world,
alight with endless skies,
and I embrace a love so great,
it gives me wings to fly.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 169
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
We lost our innocence last week.
You came into our lives picking them clean,
stealing from us the peace and calm
of a life without fear.

You crept in with your AKAs,
with your anger dripping from your guns;
your violence became ours,
along with its silent fears.

You cloud our minds and haunt our dreams 
as you creep into our nightmares. 
We search for ways to escape, but find no hope 
while you are in our memories.

We have bargained away our future 
for want of power and wealth.
But I have always known that guns 
were traded for lives and souls.
For my sister, her family, and all who deal with violence.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 379
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
Beneath the hidden water world of pristine turquoise seas,
where sergeant majors flash their stripes and parrotfish swim free,
they dashed before my outstretched hands, their world a paradise,
now live within my secret world where memories are kept live.

I float back to this world of bliss in my imaginings,
a soothing world surrounding me where water gives me wings.  
I float amidst this untouched world of grace and find a calm;
a place inside of soothing peace where oft my soul finds balm.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 221
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
Stepping out on Lovers Key as daylight greets each summer’s day,
I amble over wooden planks, a bridge along the sandy way.
While sand ***** scamper from my view between its aging wooden slats,
and play a game of hide and seek within its graying crags and cracks.

The colored flags that end the path warn each of us to be aware,
of dangers in the water’s deep that catch the swimmers unaware.
A hot wind blowing from the south lifts underneath my hat’s straw brim,
as sweat drips from my forehead brow, I think how very blessed I am.

While waves wink with the sun’s starlight, I soak in all the morning calm,
and bubbles line the water’s edge, along with ocean’s gifts and alms.
I stroll along the seaside path, while egrets search the ocean spread,
and crystal waters wash my feet I’m captured by this path I tread.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 231
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
No words can voice my fears untold,
and anger at this stubborn land;
its people hide inside their worlds,
and blind their eyes from where they stand.

We stand upon a precipice,
of all that we now hold beloved:
a living earth to give our youth,
and conscience for the least unloved.

A moral compass, this we lack.
We twist our world to what we want,
befitting all our selfish needs,
and blind our eyes to that which counts.

No words I write can turn our hearts,
alas, this must come from within,
for each must lift the blinding cloak,
and look beyond our sightless skins.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 131
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
Raised on the crumpled fairytales and dreams of fractured youth,
left nothing to believe in and little else to do,
but cast the past into its hell and banish memory’s hold,
into the fiery pit of growth that purified my soul.

I think of times when hope was lost and blindness filled my days;
when darkness colored everything and filled my life with grey;
where fairies found in fairytales were buried where they died,
and weakened wills were crushed to dust and vanished with the lies.

But now the dust is washed away, and life is largely gone,
that bedrock, now left found exposed, is made of solid ground.
Amidst the hopes and dreams of youth, tales set my mind ablaze,
I sense these wild imaginings were meant to lift my days.

Throughout my life I’ve always thought my dreams eluded me,
and lies were told, in years of old, to quiet me to sleep,
But through the ever changing years, these tales unlocked a door,
for dreams were told to give my mind creative wings to soar.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2019 · 146
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2019
Autumn falls quietly in the north,
creeping over gardens and woods
as it kisses the leaves in vermilion and ochre
catching blossoms in mid-bloom.

The shadows of September grow long,
over fields and landscapes,
as their stark contrast reminds all
of the frigid months to come.

Butterflies flit noiselessly about
from flower to flower lighting briefly,
in their search of nectar,
drinking in the remaining harvest of the season.

A soft breeze rustles through the leaves,
bringing a shiver to my shoulders,
as a solitary leaf floats gently down beside me;
a brief wave to fall.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Aug 2019 · 160
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2019
Clothing tattered, they come,
hungry for freedom and food.
Beaten down by oppression and hate
they cry for freedom.

They come by the thousands,
on foot over uncounted miles,
yet we turn them away,
as they cry for food.

Sick and worn, they arrive.
Torn from friends and family,
caged like animals.
They cry for compassion.

They die awaiting relief,
as hope wains across our land.
We ignore their plea,
as children cry for justice.

We all await the return of
conscience and compassion,
and grow weary as time wears on
and we cry…
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Aug 2019 · 183
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2019
Wrapped in my anger and hidden in pain,
my heart beats in silence, with blinding distain,
for the lack of compassion we show for mankind,
and our thrashing of earth, what we’re leaving behind.

As we selfishly use and neglect to replace,
and cull certain races like they're human waste,
in our selfish pursuit of more riches and power,
as we leave life on earth and our future here dour.

Our waters like sewage, our oceans are dying,
it’s past time for talking and time to start working,
for something apart from just serving up words,
and find a solution that works for the world.

So, gone are the days when I’ve held it inside,
and have damaged myself and my health while I hide.
From the ugliness, cruelty, the human neglect,
and the way that we misuse and all that we’ve wrecked.

For now I believe I must write how I think,
to be true to myself and the world on the brink.
To paint with my words or in stark artwork plea,
that will open the eyes of those willing to see.

For what I have learned in my time on our earth,
our world will always be at war with itself,
unless we all learn to respect one another;
treat neighbors like brothers and earth like our mother.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp..
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2019
I dream of spending future days while roaming Tuscan lands,
where the lavender haze hangs on every vine,
and follow in the paths of old, where artists’ genius rang,
their echoes call from every nook I find.

In a world of ancient artists where the Renaissance was born;
where writers and philosophers long have played,
I’ll stroll the narrow, crooked streets and walk the roads well-worn,
and live la dolce vita for a day.

I’ll spend my mornings writing tales, expressos at my call,
and live the life of those in fairytales,
I’ll stroll past art I’ve seen in books; Accademia’s marble halls,
in the shadow of the David’s grand scale.

Beneath the olive trees I’ll dine, I’ll drink the local brew,
while writing of my tales in verses clear.
And when my thoughts have found their voice, with Italy I’ll bid addio,
and hold this dream with me throughout the years.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Aug 2019 · 164
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2019
I’ve always dreamt of living life,
outside the bounds of everyday,
and break my insignificance:
a nameless child, amidst the fray.

I dreamt of lands beyond my reach,
I’d only read in far-off tales,
and made a promise to myself,
to reach beyond my choking veil.

To make my hidden dreams come true,
my path was never lined with gold,
and many days were wrapped in tears,
with pain and wounds within my soul.

But I’ve been blessed with unseen joys,
that few will ever know or see,
and now I know the price I’ve paid,
was worth the cost to set me free.

Now in the autumn of my days,
my silent self from inside seeps,
and finds its voice clothed in my words,
from deep within my soul it speaks.

Each word I write comes with a prayer.
to move all those who chance to read,
and start them on their lifetime quest;
to choose a well-lived life to lead.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jun 2019 · 222
Vicki Kralapp Jun 2019
I cry inside my silent world
and beg to find a lesser pain;
a pain that can be reconciled
with thoughts of love of self, contained.

The outside world is raging still...
We stumble yet to find our way
and fall unto a darkened path,  
while those we love are led astray.

I close my door once more to hide;
to block the sounds that I recall.
Amidst the ghosts of days gone by
and secrets that we bury, all.

How foolish to believe I’ve healed!
But yet my skin is crawling still,
as I recall the years gone past,
the pain and grief come raging back.

So I stay inside my placid home,
deplete of all who cause me pain,
to find the peace I long to have
and hope for life without the rain.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jun 2019 · 903
Vicki Kralapp Jun 2019
The good in US is fading fast,
a part of all that’s passed.
But have we ever been that great,
I question and I ask?

The past recalls we stole our land,
from natives living here,
instead of sharing land and food,
we drove them out and killed.

We choose too many godless men,
with hearts as cold as ice,
that drive a wedge into our hearts,
souls ransomed for that price.

Our children's cries can still be heard,
amidst our broken schools,
too selfish yet to sacrifice,
beyond our treasured rules.

A proud American, once was I,
I’ve lost my faith in US,
but still I hold to it’s people’s strength,
to learn from lessons past.

Our land of dreams has all but gone;
the Golden Rule has died.
While corruption rots us from within,
we blind our eyes and hide.

My dad, a veteran of two wars,
bronzed stars the hero given,
he’d weep to see what we’ve become,
along with all in heaven.

Our greed and conquest has become,
our way of western life.
I plead with all who still have souls,
to use your hearts and minds.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Feb 2019 · 309
Vicki Kralapp Feb 2019
My heart sings like the songbird
in the warmth of early spring,
as it soars to the heavens,
and delights in the sun upon its opened wing.

It sings of tomorrow and hope for the future.
And leaving behind yesterday's cold,
it awaits the tender green of spring
lying hidden beneath a crust of snow.

My heart dances to this jubilant melody;
my future now within my reach.
I revel in my love of life
and the bliss I feel with each new morn.
All poems are copy written and are the sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp Feb 2019
Upon the dark and snow filled sky,
I gaze out past the houses glow,
at snowflakes flying past the lights
and blanket all that lay below.

On such a winter’s night as this,
awaiting sleep, both deep and fast.
within the midst of icy winds and
winter’s Polar Vortex blast.

A mug of cocoa in my hand
to warm me from inside this room,
I lay beneath my downy quilt,
and bid the storm winds hasten through.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jan 2019 · 497
Vicki Kralapp Jan 2019
Pain, like a molten sword,
burns on the flesh of my heart.

Once again, it’s been wielded,
tearing a hole into my unprotected soul.

I am drowning in the blackness,
of its grasp on me.

I lift my prayers to the heavens
to give me strength of spirit,

and wisdom to find the path
to escape its mighty grip.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Dec 2018 · 1.8k
Vicki Kralapp Dec 2018
I woke upon this winter’s morn,
with Christmas in my heart,
despite the news across the earth,
and grayness it imparts.

Reports of quakes and Etna,
with its crest blown to the sky,
while Central Sulawes’ floods,
chased people for their lives.

In Syria, its people mourn,
the tears and blood they’ve shed,
their civil war, it rages still,
marks eight years with its dead.

The fires that swept our golden state,
left thousands without homes,
its victims living now in tents,
with nothing of their own.

While winds of last year’s hurricanes,
have raged on southern shores,
in Florida and eastern coasts,
all shook us to the core.

The caravan of people fled,
from countries to the south,
have braved too much already,
for a wall to shut them out.

Our country, now divided,
on beliefs we hold too close,
while people spew their hatred at,
those who challenge them the most.

And those who are in power,
cannot see beyond their nose,
to what tomorrow wants from us,
and what our world needs most.

But still, I see the kindness,
and the love in passersby,
when someone gives a hand to those,
who need it more than I.

I see the hope in children’s eyes,
where love and truth prevail,
when treated as tomorrow’s hope,
when peace on earth has failed.

So let us focus on the grace,
so often overlooked,
and make our resolution be,
to share our love on earth!
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Oct 2018 · 8.1k
Vicki Kralapp Oct 2018
From my earliest remembrance,
to this hour I have maintained,
I've never been contented
with a life of the mundane.

I’ve sought to spend each day in life
in search of curious things,
like art and education,
and the richness that they bring.

I hope to write more poetry
and share my verse in print,
and with my use of written word,
paint art with shades and tints.

I’ve been to many distant lands,
but yet my heart implores,
I seek out farther mysteries,
our planet has in store.

But now my body slows me down,
like most as we grow old,
and though I try, oft I fall short,
of plans I can control.

So, to keep myself companion,
while I will myself to heal,
I’ve formed all my ambitions,
which one day I plan to reach.

Since I was just a little child
I dreamt of life abroad,
in Kenya with the Maasai tribe,
I’ve always been enthralled.

I've fancied a safari,
where the famous five are found,
a land where great giraffes stand tall,
against the setting sun.

But, it is the Land Down Under,
that is first among my plans,
and one day soon I’ll see the coast,
of Sydney once again.

My friends will come to greet me,
though a lifetime I’ve been gone,
and united we’ll share memories,
for the present and beyond.

I’ll go for walks amidst the bush,
and hear the magpie’s tunes,
I’ll stroll beside the ghostly gums;
with nature grow attuned.

I’ll tour along the Southern Coast,
drive past Apostles tall,
and see the sites of Melbourne fair,
with all its cultured draw.

Then off to Kiwi’s northern isle,
with nature’s beauty rare,
fulfilling dreams so long desired,
to glimpse the Mauri’s there.

Waitomo, with its glow worm caves,
and Rotorua’s pools,
with geysers, Eco thermal parks,
and Bay of Islands too.

As I make my way back to the states,
I’ll stop along the way,
to visit Fiji’s turquoise coast,
and snorkel time away.

I’ll learn about the culture,
and partake of Fiji’s fare,
and when I go, I hope to leave,
a part of my heart there.

The coast of California,
on my list of sites to see;
from the Wharf in San Francisco,
to the vineyards by the sea.

I dream of redwoods sure and tall:
the parks and smell of pines,
and stand amid the ancient firs,
lest they pass for all of time.

I plan to visit Florence,
where master artists roamed;
the heart of Tuscan Renaissance,
where da Vinci made his home.

I hope to cruise Amalfi’s coast,
with others at the helm,
to view the brilliance of the sights,
and others in the realm.

While in the South of Italy,
I’ll cross the briny foam,
and walk the hills in Athens,
where ancient Grecians roamed.

I dream of Amazonia,
where man has not destroyed,
and natives live within the wild,
with harmony employed.

The last one on my bucket list,
is one I’d left undone,
when first I made my maiden trip,
and I was twenty-one.

I’d hoped to see the Emerald Isle,
and England’s castles old,
Duke’s palaces and British Tate,
are marvels to behold.

I’ll drive the ring of Kerry,
and the magic Isle of Skye,
to see its Fairy Pools of hues,
and Highland’s brilliance sights.

The lush green grass of Glen Coe,
the Scottish hills await,
would be a lifelong dream fulfilled
when all my trials abate.

With this, my final dream fulfilled,
I see my list complete,
full circle with this Commonwealth,
my restless feet at peace.

But ‘til that time when I am healed,
and I can travel far,
I’ll dream of lands beyond my reach,
and one day touch the stars.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Oct 2018 · 2.8k
Vicki Kralapp Oct 2018
The bush, Down Under, beckons me, and calls me from across the sea,
its sirens sing their distant songs, with winged flutes and sorrowed calls.
I walk the haunting memories, while warm winds whistle through the trees,
and watch the ghosts of gumtrees play, while passing wattles on the way.
This foreign land bewitches me, and to my heart it holds the key;
a land where once my spirit played, from where I have too long delayed.

From secret depths you sang to me, to where I’d always longed to be.
You called me forth, your land ignites, the strength within me to unite,
the unbound lass I’d sought to be, with new-found strength to set me free.
I found, much to my heart’s delight, when first I landed at this site,
the beauty of its majesty, I made its land a part of me.
This mystic place on earth excites, has caught my heart and held it tight.    

At once I knew that foreign shore, as if I been there long before;
with memories reminding me, of golden grasses by the sea,
a voice inside of me implored and told me you’ve been here before!”,
This view within my mind foreseen?  Just déjà vu? I can’t concede.
The scene’ry in my mind before, has opened a mysterious door,
into a land over the sea and made this curious memory.

When darkness flees, the day’s still new, when laughter bids the night adieu,
then bellbirds ring the morning in, their chimes float on the early wind.
The loris and the gold finch too, are both arrayed in rainbow hues.
With gum nuts, leaves, and bark akin, all carpeting the floor therein,
along with ****** bushland too, when all of nature sang anew,
the master painter, here has been, as seen in beauty from within.

As sunbeams from the sky break through, all glistens in the morning dew,
and add their magic touch to all; to paperbarks and banksias,
the bottle brush and wattles too, all readied for the day’s review.
Loud kookaburras’ raucous calls, with cockatoos and pink galahs,
pied currawong and magpie flutes, enchanting all who hear their tunes.
All joined in bushland’s magic call, and with this tune, I was enthralled.

I’ve been across this curious land, and seen more than I may have planned,
from Alice Springs and Uluru, and Darwin north of Kakadu,
the Barrier Reef, just off of Cairns, and Sydney with its city grand.
But the place I keep in view, with cockatoos and kangaroos,
in this immense, and distant land; the bush with all its beauty grand.
‘Tis in my mem’ry, pure and true, and with each breath calls back to you.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 1.6k
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
My friends ask me why, I no longer take time,
to take pencil in hand, to draw what’s in my mind,
or to put it on canvas, with paintbrush in hand,
though I’ve tried to explain, they just don’t understand.

So I simply reply, “I now paint on a screen,
or I paint on computer, with words and a theme,
and I use what’s inside me, to bring words to life”.
with a spectrum of colors, they are just as precise.

Their only reply is, “But you are far too good!”
You can’t put your art down!  If only I could…”
Still they can’t understand, nor could I in their place,
that the freshness of art, has since gone with no trace.

To make art with pastel, no longer conveys,
what I felt was important, what I wanted to say.
I no longer enjoy, art’s gestation and birth,
it no longer brings joy, only pain for its worth.

But the pen gives us strength, just as mighty as all
of the art that we see, on the gallery walls.
Each image on paper, with the picture complete,
is boundlessly infinite; each image unique.

There may come a time, when I’ll take up my brush,
to paint what I see, to the canvas I’ll touch.
But for now, I’m contented, to write how I feel,
to paint with my writing, and to share all I see.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 310
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
I awaken to the hymn of creation,
a chorus of life in the morning light.
The sun, straining to raise its head,
brings light and life to the world.

Ripples dance on the water nearby,
while birds sing the harmony of nature’s song.
Lizards leap into the cool of nearby water,
while crows warn of changes to come.

Whispering on the winds of time,
change dares me, entreating me to follow.
I hold fast, as I follow its lead,
with eyes wide open.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 6.5k
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer,
painting maples in hues of brilliant oranges and reds.
Long shadows of late September streak across the last blades of grass,
as fall’s stark contrasts light the afternoon.

The seasonal wind breathes cold with the smell of autumn in the air.
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer,
while cottony clouds in a sea of cornflower blue, slowly slide out of view,
chased down by v’s of geese as they race across the sun.

Helicopter seeds line the sidewalks, green and gold, as others float on the wind,
down to join with cones and acorns awaiting next year’s crop.  
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer.
Crows, harbingers of the winter to come, make their sad calls.

Squirrels pause to pack their cheeks with Fall’s fare and scurry to secret caches,
their bulging cheeks filled with fallen nuts and acorns.
Fall greets me with a kiss as summer bows to its chill, as
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer.
Autumn Quatern.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 3.2k
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
My song, a melody composed,
on heartstrings of each passing day.
This ballad’s mine, and mine alone,
a verse of life, to sing my way.

T’was never plain and seldom free,
as tempos often changed and rush,
but always, I’ve been greatly blessed
with life’s vast treasures mostly hushed.

The strains that I have sung through life,
at last have finally found their ground:
A tenor voice, in senior years,
the songs I sing, with value found.

I lift my voice, the world to hear,
for ne’er will it be heard again,
as long as there is life on earth,
and time has reached its final end.
For all of my friends looking for their voices…

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 1.8k
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
You play your song
and I am back once more,
to a day of crushing good-byes.
Sneaking in the back door
of my protected memories
you find me.

I try to hide away
from everyone,
and everything;
trying to hold back irrepressible tears
that stream down
my cheeks.

Collapsing in a pile on the beach,
at the end of a long trail
at the ocean's edge,
my emotions spill out
in pools like blood,
flooding over me.

A rock wall at my shoulder
and shells at my feet,
my tears fall heavy
as I sob through my thoughts.
Writing fails me and my words fall flat;
I am lost between two worlds.

Even after thirty years,
my breath still catches in my throat
to hear your haunting melody.
My eyes still hold tears,
from the heartbreak
of goodbye.
For my other homeland, Australia.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 449
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
Inside my dreams, I found a house,
a place I came to know,
a dwelling unattended that
the second class called home.

For all those years t'was but a shell,
of grey, decaying wood,
and floors collapsing underfoot,
on each board that I stood.

While wandered the halls one night
I found within that home,
it's heart: a mansion, unsurpassed
in beauty, left alone.

But too afraid to stay, I thought,
it was too grand for me,
so each time that this place appeared,
I turned on heel to leave.

Throughout the years that house has changed,
rebuilt with wings attached,
though new, the halls were blackened by
the ghosts of memories past.

Then one great night, a fire broke out,
in rooms left unprepared,  
and all I knew, burnt to the ground,
and I alone was spared.

When I awoke, it was quite clear,
and could not be denied,
this house was me, who lived before,
my heart was what survived.

For all my life I’d seen myself
dismissed and set apart,
I hadn’t seen the grace within
that lived inside my heart.
Self portrait

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 2.5k
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
My bedsheets envelop me
with the familiar scent of home
as I lie comforted
in their warm embrace.

Outside my window,
crows call from maple trees
their leaves tipped in gold and ochre,
while raven visitors welcome me.

Sprinkled with bits of bleached sand,
my dashboard is a daily reminder
of my my beach-time walkabouts
where I kept my hopes and dreams.

My tropical adventure,
now just a memory in snapshots
lies packed away with shells and other mementos,
as I embrace tomorrow.

Summer's sultry days
with their myriad of challenges,
have molded me into the woman I am,
and who I will become.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 1.8k
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
Dark death skirts beaches in blood red,
as coffee colored swells wash in more
carnage to the shores;
we are blindly poisoning our waters.

Toxic plumes of red tide cover the seas,
beaching whales and seals,
manatees, and fishes;
we indiscriminately **** our sea life.

The brisk breeze off the Gulf
brings the smell of rotting death
that is all around;
we are blindly killing ourselves.

Our lifeblood,
the seas and its inhabitants,
slowly slip away;
we disrespect nature.

Mother earth mourns
as we continue
to ****** its inhabitants;
we are dying.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Sep 2018 · 954
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
Then the rains came;
they fell in torrents,
flooding over me with pain,
driving me to the ground.

Searing pain, unrelenting,
Its waves of nausea
washing over me,
cutting into my days.

Misery is my tutor,
teaching lessons of life.
I struggle with their mysteries,
so many elude me.

Still the rains fall,
pelting me with stinging tears,
and each day I raise my shield
to challenge the oncoming gale.
For those with fibromyalgia, arthritis, or any other chronic illness.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
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