Divinity Dance

When we are one, it
is at the top of a peak —
it is quiet, silence and light
the air and temperature
is of no real importance —
a veil flows like a flag.
However there is no
bottom beneath us.

How I got there, unknown.
But at a moment, he
appears and we interlock.
He holds me and assures
I am whole and healed
for I am there, within him.



Notes,: this poem is free-verse, yet in the container of a Sonnet. It follows no rules like scansion, because this is a metaphysical conceit bound solely to beauty, built with the castle like form of a sonnet.

Math and Queries

At the ocean,
I counted waves.
Doubled my math with white caps. Then my hands cupped sand and the sum was lost. These infinite places.

In the city, it seems the only lights come from skyscrapers, which compared to other peaks and the infinte stars, can we really compare? Less than or greater than?

I wonder how many people we have loved or in love? Not only people we love, but things: animals, flowers, places, food, books… add up each beloved part within us? 

How many times have we victorified? Fill in the oval of types of victory.  How many times have we prayed? Fill in the oval of types of prayers. How many times for joy? Fill in oval.

Morphology and morpheme, see Neologism: victorified

God’s Children 3D Flipbook

Dear Readers:

God’s Children, Flip Book: This is a book of Children Poems I wrote and was illustrated by my daughter, Dahlia. The book consists of Sonnets, Hymns, Villanelles, Ballads, (Heroic) Couplets, Epigrams, Heterometric Rhymes, Odes, Biblical Free Verse, and other Forms of poetry, including ranges of prosody. It is appropriate for all ages.

It is mostly rhyming poetry and Christian based. Surely, I have not taken my verse to the Pulpit. Instead, I have composed contemporary poetry written for children with the message and fibers of Christian faith with its joy, kindness, peace and love with one’s self and others.

When you click on the link and flip through the pages, you may have to wait a minute for the images to upload. (Depending on your internet connection.) I hope you enjoy the book and I hope it inspires some of our children to enact on their own creative endeavors. It brought me great joy working with my daughter creating this book and I am super proud of her. The book was written for my daughter, and I also hope that every child knows how precious and sacred they are. 

Sincerely yours, Kate and Dahlia

Please wait while flipbook is loading. For more related info, FAQs and issues please refer to DearFlip WordPress Flipbook Plugin Help documentation.

Donations and Support Greatly Appreciated

Gentle words for little ears.

$5.00

power

anything in your heart
that resides
that sings
that helps
that cherishes
that forgives

however, non violent

is possible
even finding the grace
to meet the heartless

your strength in love
is the warrior of night
and the charging white 
because that love
can defeat
and outlast
ten thousand men

for the crusader’s flag
is actually love
and the heartless
return to their faces

however,
you are loved
and have won the good fight
so find yourself
at this moment
perfect and loved as you are.

The beloved 
The adored
The cherished

You are My World, (update)

The poem in the left column (this column) is the more polished poem, the poem on the right hand column was what I started with.


When I look at you 
I see my world:

I know the dimple
on your cheek
was made from God’s temple.

I know all your laughs
like the sound of your voice –
You can’t split this love for you in halves

I know what will make
everything okay and what keeps you safe,
and with God’s protection he won’t forsake. 

I know at night
when I comb your hair,
your royalty is more bright
then your glowing night-light.

When I look at you
I see all of the miracles 
in you, with your soul 
and spirit from the heavens. 

I know your favorite
lullaby by heart –
each and every word, 
and every loving part.

Without you I wouldn’t
know how to find me
because you are the key
to all of me.

When I look at you
I see my world:

I know for instance
that only when you
are truly happy, your

dimple shows, I know
your laugh as well
as your tone of voice.

I know what will
make everything
for the moment

at least, okay.
I know at night
when I braid your

hair, how each
strand represents
the princess in you

and yet, the length
of miracles in you.
I know your favorite

lullaby by heart.
As far as the rest,
like the unknown

places I have heard
of, yet to travel,
is what the currency

would be without
you. I know that I
wouldn’t know

where to take us
for picnics or tea, or
the best spot

would be to feed
the birds. I wouldn’t
know where to

connect the old
me with the new
you, because that

is foreign, overseas
travel and I only
fly domestically.

In Memory of Bill Knott

My Professor and Mentor, Bill Knott, passed away on March 12, 2014. He was a prolific poet, won numerous awards, a Guggenheim Fellowship, the Iowa Poetry Prize, published by University Presses, Random House, Straus and Giroux, amongst others.

I will be adding reflections here, perhaps some assignments he typed for the class, poems I worked on with him, and if you’d like your comment shared, I will post your comment here too.

I get all guey when I think about Bill not being here, but that is absent to the fact that his teachings in poetry workshops at graduate school, his years of guiding me and mentoring me after graduate school is very present and in the moment here right now. Every time I write a sonnet, I write it from Bill’s years of guidance, probing, testing, teaching, practicing and intact memory of his voice and expressions of when I did something well and when I devastated a poem. He’d smack his palm of his hand to his forehead, “What? Why would you ever, ever do that?” “Get that out of there!” Bill was absolute with his work; passionate can’t hardly explain his dedication to the occupation of verse. Many poems he wrote, he would rewrite over and over, even revisting the same poem published ten years ago in one of his earlier books, he would reword, change a rhyme, change the enjambment, and then incoming another Bill Knott poem birthing. The only romanticism between Bill and I was our ceaseless and relentless love for poetry. Knott was also one of the few practitioners of poetry that could write about the cliched and over written “love poem” and do it well. Sometimes he remade a love poem, goose bumped would jump off the page. He worked and worked, giving to his students, writing reviews, rewriting poems; it was not just about his work, but he helped so many others, students or fellow poets, and readers. It is true, he was ungraceful and blunt when he didn’t particularly enjoy what he read. He was fearless (humorous as well) with the politics of the mainstream poetry as well, however. The beauty of working with him, however, was you never wondered what does he really feel/think? His later work was at times used against him. He was intentionally obscure at times, why? I think because he felt like it and rather simply, because he could. Many mysteries will remain when he started self-publishing fiercely and those never ending dark forces using poems against him, as seemingly evidence against any sort of greatness of Knott.

Knott was my biggest fan and encouraged me, when I needed it the most. Sentimental or actual, the factual is Knott was and continues to be precious to my heart. I hope this inspires hundreds of more readers, since his range is one of kind and brilliant. I believe he wrote only one Children’s Book of verse, (I could stand corrected) which is a shame, because he was gifted beyond anything imaginable when it came to perfect and slanted rhymes. In addition, I loved his book art. He often painted the cover of his self published books and included his paintings in book form. He was inspiring, endless inpsiration coming from just a few moments with him, unlike anyother.

I have a great memory of Bill at a poetry workshop while at Emerson College, in graduate school. In essence, Bill made a clear message to a student who made many judgments of the people she wrote about in her poem: “don’t ever condemn, ever.” Bill let the student know if she did it again, she would have the option to switch out of his poetry workshop for another workshop. I agree with Bill, poetry wasn’t a place intended to condemn people.

 

Books

SPACE From the trees the leaves came down until we joined hands with a wand and that act enabled them somehow then to reach the ground where they scuttered round our feet urging the latter to unite with a baton as if that act together with the hands can clasp a dowsing-stick cut from the same branch from which we launched converging on gravity's purge-point at which point we merged to remove all consonants from our star-maps. The infinite consists of vowels alone. The Unsubscriber. Knott, Bill. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004
Ashbery’s “Famous” Poem, underlined above was an ongoing puzzling error in American Poetry, as Bill probed.

singing your praises

I want to be your flute
for your joy’s tune
I want to be a piano
for your loving symphony
I want to be a drum
for your energy’s vibration
I want to sing
for your words in hope
I want to be a choir
to be in harmony with your strength
I want to be the audience
so heaven echoes
I want to clap
to have our hands together






My Little Kitten

My little kitten slouches too,
scratches at my brand-new shoe.

She rests beside me on the bed,
she hugs and needs the cotton thread.

She purrs and purrs as an engine could,
so I kept her warm as a mother would.

Soon she’ll wake to drink warm milk, my ball
of yarn she thinks to find and tumbles around,
always into something like the mitten found.
Once lost, even she jumps! However, does not fall.

The Mother Tree

The Mother Tree destroys
all evil, to restore joy
in this world. The light
at the tree’s point of height
over shadows the dark.

I am devoted to the hope
of light in a kaleidoscope.
The color mosaic leaves
a space, my eye perceives.

While if we understood
our love, as sap from wood –
billions of trees and leaves
would illuminate to relieve.

We are all widely loved,
with watercolor light above –
this is our beloved tree-trunk
and wild flower treasure trove.