"kathryn" poems
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
Come see black night. Black night proposes
more
Than madness in a prophet's dream, sets free
A lean uncertainty, sweet taste of all
We dare not see.
My sweet Kathryn, you were older than me,
Knew all the black mountains--Olson, Creely, Duncan, Morley, Dorn... While I
was learning
Levertov. Your dark, unshaven armpits
Drove me wild. I understood the honor
Of that crazy night--how could feather leave you--
our dance at the outlaw bar,
Your sapphic gaze bemused by coal miners,
In cowboy boots, as the band played Haggard,
Coe, Willie, Waylon, Johnny Cash, Kristofferson
& Emmy Lou. I wouldn't trade it for a date
With Miss Brazil, or Russia as it were--
Some people say you made that up,
Changed heritage and grew the hair to seem more European. I couldn't care
Less. A great dark mystery I loved
Now thirty-seven years ago with me
Just old enough to drink and you come down
From Bingington, I loved the way you said
That frozen town, where your husband lingered,
Teaching English to native speakers.
I know you still loved him. I think you loved
Me, but needed a woman's touch the same
As I. Strange how a night can be recalled
More than years, one drunken naked sunrise,
Pillow talk instead of class. I ditched the speech
At PBK, can't remember what they
Fed us, coming for you in a straight shift
Chevy pickup, red as the night was black.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
I wanted to name her Kathryn,
because I knew the nickname Kat
was soon to follow.
Kat put kittens in my wife’s head
so she suggested we call her Kit.
Before long, there was a Kit-Kat
in my wife’s belly.
We painted kittens in the room,
cats cute and fearsome accompanied
the cradle, changing table and toys.
We took classes, and told our friends
we’d raise a fiery feline with the heart
of a lion, body of a cougar and head of a fox.
But a fox isn’t a cat they’d say, but we’d just laugh.
Kathryn will redefine feline, female, fiery, and fantastic.
But Kit-Kat turned into candy.
We always said she’d be sweet,
like Halloween’s first treat
before you were filled to bursting,
into tears
over chocolate,
when it was gone.
Apr 6, 2011
Apr 6, 2011 at 8:23 PM UTC
You are my beautiful, nagging wife.
We have been married for fifty-one years,
Seven months,
And eleven days, exactly.
You are the most annoying person I have ever come across,
And my best friend.
It can be simplified into vanilla coke,
Ginger ships,
And savior by Rise Against.
You are my secret jar.
You are my rain.
You are my better half.
We are two halves of one old and demented, crazy cat lady.
Self destruction and all.
Destroy my reassurance,
And reassure my destruction,
But I love you more than I hate tomatoes,
And I'll never ask for a divorce.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
"C'mon Stevie you got to show them what you're made off!"
"I did and your mother was very impressed."
"C'mon Stevie you got to show them what you're made off!"
"I auditioned but they said I was too big."
"C'mon Stevie you got to show them what you're made off!"
"You do realise that Kathryn Janeway reffered to me everytime she said 'Captain's Log' don't you?"
"C'mon Stevie you need to go out more and show the world what you can do."
I can't, I'm like Japanese **** Entirely censored.
"Come inside"
chuckles
"Can I come over?"
"You"
"What?"
"What?"
**** Off!"
"You're On!"
*******
"."
"C'mon Stevie show em what you're made off!"
"Have you read this?"
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
A golden shaft of morning sun
Threw lines of life to cirrus cloud
A flight of teal on wings of steel
Arrowed from nights flying shroud.
The gems of dew on emerald grass
Blazed crystal violet, hills of glass.
A day is born, a time to live and laugh
Feel young and happy, free as chaff
Caste in the zephyr breeze.
A tear of joy springs to my eye,
A grin, as big as life,
I fly across a meadow, leap a stream.
I’m happy for you Sue and Pete,
I celebrate with night’s retreat
The dawning of your daughter’s day
With all my soul I wish her well
Sweet happiness in life’s foray.
Bon voyage sweet Kathryn
Uncle Dadda
Hamilton
New Zealand 1969
Jan 8, 2010
Jan 8, 2010 at 8:45 AM UTC
What’s left of you is in boxes,
Mother-that-kissed-goodnight.
Who introduced us to stallions and
Bullet hole portraits of John Wayne.
How to be on trail. Avoid poison oak,
Ivy. How to avoid horse buck.
Your parents stopped praying
The rosary after you went terminal.
Reader who believed in a book
For her and a book for the kids.
Stephen King and R.L. Stine.
What remains of you are stills. Above the refrigerator.
Beside the TV.
One of when unseen bass swam through your shins.
Rivers rose and drowned the lilly pads.
Sunk the cattails. You wore the geranium dress,
Murky up to your knees. A hand on the dog.
You’re coffin’s in the ground,
Kathryn. The prenatal nurse.
The one who brought hers to
Rainbow island for fish and family,
Not for lighting clap and sideways rain.
But don’t worry, never mind that.
Thanks to cancer, you are bones.
Some believe you were reborn a cardinal. Nested
To watch your children listen for bats at dusk.
Their echoes unconfirmed,
And your songs too faint.
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
Hello Kathryn,
You left a message the other day,
I heard the phone ring,
but I didn't pick up;
didn't know how to talk to you;
or why you wanted to talk.
The **** was there to talk about?
I went to an estate sale;
big house,
big cherubs with their fat cherub hips and cheeks
and all that algae caked on their bodies
made them sick
on the front lawn.
I walked into someone else's house,
took what I wanted
and left.
Then I drove to the beach,
and I wanted you to be there,
so I could **** you.
I wanted it to be a loud,
hard ****
one that made me and you both
hurt,
one that made
my **** burn
and your cheeks blotchy,
one that made
you look at me differently
as you pulled your ******* back over your ankles,
slowly over your thighs
and quickly to your crotch;
One that made
your dress
some fabric
and your shoes
some soles;
one that made
you open the door
and just walk down the street
for a smoke
and some contemplation
about what kind of life
you were really leading;
the kind of life
where people sit in cars
and drink
and ****
all day.
I put the car in park.
The gulls sat on the dock,
raining **** on the water,
and I smoked half a pack,
just waiting.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
A mind wanders in the dead of night
With only its thoughts for company in the dark of night
A girl wears her heart on her sleeve
She is lonely, drinking away the memories of that night
A toddler screams until there is no longer any air left in his tiny lungs,
He had been smothered to the bots from that night
A boy injects love into his bloodstream
Crying out oceans to the silence of the night
An arrow stays stuck in a man's battered and bruised chest
Only because his life didn't matter that night
The bow is placed in the hands of a tattered and tainted woman
Because a man wouldn't give his soul away to the night
And Kathryn sits and smirks at how no one seems to know
That life is coming to and end, after tonight
©
~amanda
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
You smile at me like a thousand ages.
Your face is more interesting than Mona Lisa's--
I know it is the very heart of the universe.
I tell you it is enigmatic, your face
How It looks so different from different angles
And the sound of my words bounces around the room
Vibrates the tiny bones in your ear
And you smile tensely
Like the finest string of some celestial instrument.
Drinking coffee at three in the morning
The very heart of the universe beats in song
She takes in medium and exhales melody
She is Kate, she is Kathryn, she is Clarity. A hard worker. A great masterpiece of Time.
And who would ever hurt you?
You, who speaks so softly
You, who just wants to witness the love of humanity
You, with a laugh that life surely came to craft.
And i can't believe it--
You shoot a hand out over the wooden table
For me to hold.
And we are alone,
Here in this yellow kitchen
In my parents' house
Alive
Your bushy brown hair
Your golden brown eyes
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 3:15 AM UTC
i would like to stand beside kathryn burke.
well
only if You
can promise
it wouldn't hurt.
a promise: is a
promise: and You
promised: You would.
i would just be happy
if she would sit beside me
on a park bench
under a sky
as absent, as dark
as the black lace that chased
her skin
and even if You were
really dead and gone,
(or so says Nietzsche,
a fact i still find hard to believe)
even then,
i wouldn't mind.
as long as that rib
was returned to my side.
then i wouldnt be so half-
empty.
so inside:
out.
then maybe the mirror
would bare an image to me.
boy, i'd finally be living!
who would of thought
a sorry lot
like me
would be
a **** worth giving?
surely
none of the Lords
that are still
living?
but a promise: is a
promise:
and she always
promises.
like those pretty eyes of hers
i couldn't keep
in pockets full of posies
kathryn burke?
does it hurt?
to stand, to sit, to lay
beside me?
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 9:28 PM UTC
Like a wave I let you wash over me
Only to drown in your mysterious ways
Instead of swimming or smooth sailing
I seem to be stuck on the bottom of you
Where nobody knows, so nobody goes
But you seem to forget I am there
I have always seen the depth in your darkness
All the things you try to hide in between
With everything you have done to cause me pain
The only expression on your face being disdain
I hope you will never know, how deep my love for you goes
Whatever you do, don't tell anyone.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Sacramento when I was young
Lovely Ms. Kathryn Orr
California sun
Sacramento Bee
Basketball with my friends
Top 40 radio sung
1980s well begun
Distant memory
xie xie ni
Jan 2, 2023
Jan 2, 2023 at 4:40 PM UTC
We’ve grown older, wiser,
But never less hilarious.
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
While visiting the gravesite of my once good friend Kathryn Kuhlman, I came across this on a nearby headstone. I was so moved.
"In life we weep at the thought of death, perhaps in death we weep at the thought of life"
As time goes by, I understand this more and more.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
"like, **** me man;
I know, I talk like this a lot,
and I get it, you're not a fan.
but I'm just trying to cope with it--
although I don't even know what I hope for.
maybe I'm just too alone.
I mean, I wanna phone to say how much I think about her,
but I don't think she'll have that;
is a hello too much to ask?
I think about those boots she liked, with the fur,
and where she put her head when she slept,
and that night I got too drunk on those flasks.
yknow, that night, we missed that band,
but if we're being honest here,
I was happy enough just sleeping with a friend.
why do I feel like this?
I told her,
and myself most of all,
'I can't do this right now. I'm prone to hurt and bound to fall'
and it was true! or, I believed it to be so,
but looking back, I think it was a defense:
it was a inherent wall
put up a long time ago to hide my lows.
and now here I am! telling you this,
hoping she didn't take part of me with her,
even as I was headed towards the door,
watching her saying goodbye,
naked,
on that old wooden floor."
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
A mind wanders in the dead of night
With only its thoughts for company in the dark of night
A girl wears her heart on her sleeve
She is lonely, drinking away the memories of that night
A toddler screams until there is no longer any air left in his tiny lungs,
He had been smothered to the bots from that night
A boy injects love into his bloodstream
Crying out oceans to the silence of the night
An arrow stays stuck in a man's battered and bruised chest
Only because his life didn't matter that night
The bow is placed in the hands of a tattered and tainted woman
Because a man wouldn't give his soul away to the night
And Kathryn sits and smirks at how no one seems to know
That life is coming to and end, after tonight
©
~amanda
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
*Of a sudden
this shadow..
in this time
of our Knowing
she is not prepared
yet prepared..
we Know now
of her light
named and white..
and even now
as I pass these lines
for her comfort
each cell is flooded
fully wrapped
in Light...*
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
Kathryn is fire
she is warm
like a tender campfire
graceful and grand
as mesmerizing as she can be
you may never get to close
because fire is too much to handle
and too much heat
will send you screaming
send you away
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
I'd have Kyra Sedgewick's face as the face,
a combination of the bodies of Kathryn McPhee and Serena Williams as the body,
the wardrobe of Martha Quinn the old MTV personality broadcaster
Kylee Harting
the personality of Lucille Ball,
the character of Jane Addam, perhaps, the founder of Social Work in old time Chicago
the voice of Caila Ali
the sense of humor of Phyllis Diller,
the posture of Condaleeza Rice
the leadership ability of Elizabeth Warren
the lifestyle of either Monica the soul singer or Janet Jackson
and then name her Kyra Williams in honor of Kyra and Serena
plus the creativity of the know by some - black poets Nikki Giovanni
and the athleticism of pro tennis player (ex) Jennifer Capriati
with a little of pro tennis player Maria Sharapova
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
If love had just one window
that was open, never closed
My verse would fly like turtle doves
—into your heart bestowed
(Thoughts Of Kathryn: April, 2021)
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
smile, bell
ring ring
you move a simple muscle
atop the lonely states
lets travel together
someday...
blue sedan
with music, top hits
not so patient so
please don't be late
your arrival means more
and less
each day
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Warm coffee and dates on a-
wintry winding , mountain lane , blackberry etchings , trembling firs shroud morning trains , first day lit lanes peek through blue panes ..
Honkers in hollers beside a rumbling 76 beacon gripped-
in the perfume of turned sorghum , rusty brooks beside a -
leaf laden lot , peanuts swirl their delicious dance-
in a cast iron *** ..
Standing at her cue , locked in-
a spiritual , bankside daydream , Marny blue , butterscotch Kathryn-
wintergreen Gert and Sweetgum Zoey weathervanes ..
A cloak and dagger scheme with tall shadows ,
empty pecan trees and vivid bellicose themes ,
foggy hillside scenes , where hope and implausibility -
convene to do battle with todays pipe dreams ...
Mar 8, 2025
Mar 8, 2025 at 10:19 PM UTC