SECRETS
There is a tree in the park
It's old and scared
But oh, the stories it knows
Of secrets carved
In its gray, gnarled trunk
The shade beneath its bough
Is cool and inviting
the wind whispers softly
Stop and rest awhile
My shadow slips away
As I sit in the sweet grass
My fingers trace the old wounds
Initials captured in a heart
The words of love
The vows we made
I imagine I hear the old tree sigh
I remember you
Your Secrets I know,
Your secrets I keep
Janice Kuykendall
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Ron's Poem
We two were born poor
lived in a drafty shack
wood fireplace and stove
but nature rich
deer, bobcat and coyote
juniper, pinion and ponderosa.
We felt rich
until she came
she, full of hatred
we retreated into ourselves
now, years later
once again nature rich
I walk to the lake
feed my squirrels
they know me
I know them
I gaze over endless water
with gulls, ducks, geese
sometimes swans
although still poor
I feel rich.
A studio shared
with centipede and spider
a wife, daughter and granddaughter
sister, nieces and nephew
and their children.
What is money
Compared to this?
Ronald Kuykendall
lived in a drafty shack
wood fireplace and stove
but nature rich
deer, bobcat and coyote
juniper, pinion and ponderosa.
We felt rich
until she came
she, full of hatred
we retreated into ourselves
now, years later
once again nature rich
I walk to the lake
feed my squirrels
they know me
I know them
I gaze over endless water
with gulls, ducks, geese
sometimes swans
although still poor
I feel rich.
A studio shared
with centipede and spider
a wife, daughter and granddaughter
sister, nieces and nephew
and their children.
What is money
Compared to this?
Ronald Kuykendall
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Ron's Poem
The Art of Poetry
poems are written magic
a few words per line,
effects joyful or tragic
expressed most sublime
poem’s cryptic wealth
consumes our thought,
it beguiles by stealth
where meaning is sought
it conjures up emotion
using words and sound,
it uses a witch’s potion
to make its wiles astound
with erudition most precise
it’s symbols tacitly stated,
poetry is best when concise
complexity is overrated
Ronald Kuykendall
poems are written magic
a few words per line,
effects joyful or tragic
expressed most sublime
poem’s cryptic wealth
consumes our thought,
it beguiles by stealth
where meaning is sought
it conjures up emotion
using words and sound,
it uses a witch’s potion
to make its wiles astound
with erudition most precise
it’s symbols tacitly stated,
poetry is best when concise
complexity is overrated
Ronald Kuykendall
Monday, December 4, 2017
JAN'S POEM
CITY LIGHTS
Beneath the pale moon
with a thousand times a thousand
bright stars above me
the long narrow road
crawls through the lonely desert
mile after mile
the tires whisper a song
to the black asphalt
the open window
invites the sultry breeze
in the dash board glow
I am an eerie phantom
counting off the miles
mile after mile
then I top the crest of a hill
and see the lights below
a sparkling gem
in the lap of the desert
a thousand times a thousand
city lights twinkling,
blinking in the distance
Janice Kuykendall
Beneath the pale moon
with a thousand times a thousand
bright stars above me
the long narrow road
crawls through the lonely desert
mile after mile
the tires whisper a song
to the black asphalt
the open window
invites the sultry breeze
in the dash board glow
I am an eerie phantom
counting off the miles
mile after mile
then I top the crest of a hill
and see the lights below
a sparkling gem
in the lap of the desert
a thousand times a thousand
city lights twinkling,
blinking in the distance
Janice Kuykendall
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