Letting Go…

Hands Of Desperation


Receding and returning

Burning, constantly churning



The feelings


ever elusive

Emotionally abhorrent

mentally abusive

An act, a mask

a tear behind a smile

The wall shutting out

the pain

the fear


My heart at odds

no hearts breaking even

Twisting and turning

my strength keeps me burning


The once insuring strength

always an alluding weakness;

The Keeper of the Walls

the key, the entry, was…

But one has touched the brick,

the wall; a barricaded entry

An allusion of uncertainty

veiled by the cool

collected calm

– Two –

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Emotions at Tide


Undisturbed turbulence veiled by a calm tranquility,

Unleashed by the Earth’s might

Let its Spirit enfold;

Strange yet magnificent in its complexity

Known to change the essence of the mould.

The placidity, complex in the very simplicity

Known to affect the heart of the matter;

The slow ebb and flow of this inner city

One heightened wave meant to shatter.

The crest at the height

One with both the sun of the day

And the ghostly night shadowed in opaque moonlight;

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow nearing the bay.

Tumult of the heart, contradiction in the mind

Causing torment and pain with an ever-present falter;

Reason and logical thought bound as if by a halter:

Innocence borne out of knowledge

Ceased is the ability to solve,

A problem without the logic of college

All that is needed is involved;

One solution is true:

The answer of Love is the glue

meant to shatter,

in truth to matter…

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

The Bus Ride by richard lynn livesay

This bus of shame drives on, over

 Broken bridges of misunderstanding,

Cracked foundations and bumpy roads…

I peer out the window and  

There, trying to survive in a lesser world

Are the “Children of a lesser god”


I see the chicken boned children

 in garbage dumps starving for food and attention

but we drive by in poverty

the poverty of noninvolvement


someone says, “How sad, someone should do something”

then turned away, slightly guilty

but with the unconscious image of the

 children of the garbage

hidden away from “normal” lives


The bus ads want me to buy suntan lotion

Drink tequila on sunny beaches and

enjoy my lucky heritage


I sink uncomfortably into my

seat of electro-introspection,

Thinking of oily bank accounts

and Saudi harems, Mercedes and mansions

I try in vain to re-write a poem.

Soon, we stop for coffee in the city of critics.

Hoping to get my brain unmuddled, I sip coffee

Maybe I can infuse a new delusion (grand or false)

I head for the bathroom

They were short on toilet paper

So I left them one of my manuscripts,


I adjust my leg irons and re-boarded the bus,

“When does this tour end?” I ask.

“There is no end” said the red faced driver.

I was perplexed.

I continued looking at the broken down towns,

Gagging in smelly urinals

And forcing down “famous” cow burgers

and oily fries.

Peering out, I

saw an unshaven soldier with one leg

drinking wine in an alley, a disillusioned vet;

but one of the chicken boned children

was offering him a piece of moldy bread


Uncomfortably a tear rolled from my eye

As I dozed, I thought about this species called


We kill;

We hate,

We fight and injure,

Lie, cheat and steal

And then hypocritically judge others

Then gripe about the things we don’t have


The image of the chicken-boned child

feeding the broken vet,

caused me to shake.

The bus stopped

I was blindfolded and taken out in a field

I screamed,”I was only telling the truth!”

I felt the first bullet pierce my skull

And it all became like a dream



~ Life is a poem ~

Inspired on the breath of Divine Creation

It shows your cracks

Through the cracks

A sliver of hope saturates your soul

~ In ugliness and in beauty ~

To breathe is both a burden and a gift

~ Living is naked honesty ~

In a film of vulnerability

A core of raw strength

~ Breathing is the whisper of the wind ~

As a miracle passes through a mirror of time

~ A life is but a seed unsown ~

Scattered on the winds of chance

Published online in Undead Poets Society, April 10, 2011 as last_lines

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

The Divine Orchestra

Steam rises from the barren ground
Liquid sand boils in an earthen cauldron
Molten fire swims in a deep river
The air above the toiling caldron stills
Not a bird calls nor do creatures stir,
The waxen earth beats to an ancient drummer’s heartbeat
Nature’s choir hums a song of still serenity
The winds breathe and tremble a Beethoven sonata,
Air that stirs with a thundering Bassoon
Clouds gather and clash with clanging cymbals
Curtains drape the air in folds of darkness
The stage is luminous in a ballet of ethereal light
Ushered in a staccato of falling liquid notes

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

Poor Poets Society's Blog

My Poor, Poor Poe  by richard lynn livesay

The Chant Royal is a poetic form that consists of five eleven-line stanzas with a rhyme scheme a-b-a-b-c-c-d-d-e-d-E and a five-line envoi rhyming d-d-e-d-E. thanks for the inspiration Sarah and Susan



orphaned young was little Poe,

his Mother dead, his Father gone

the wealthy Allen’s adopted him

Edgar was wild and didn’t belong

first expelled from Virginia U,

army, West Point; life was grim

disinherited, ousted and all alone

he began writing; got in a zone

writing “Tamerlane poems”, he grew                        

at twenty-four, married cousin foreknown

poor Poe struggled, his genius askew


 “I was a child, she was a child,
in this kingdom by the sea”
but it was more than love —
“I and my ANNABEL LEE —“

In 1845 “The Raven”, a jewel

Two years later, his little dove,

Virginia; death also took her home

so, I…

View original post 317 more words

The Voice

Awoke in a dense foggy forest
Moss corpses hung from the trees
As shadows moved like predators

Arose painfully and questioned existence
Was I being punished for my negligence?
I had given up on writing poetry and life

An owl stared, asking me whoo I was
I questioned my very soul for answers
I stumbled into nowhere, unsure of everything

Fear moved within me as my heart beat faster
It seemed eyes were watching my every step
I chilled, surrounded by eerie unseen sounds

Climbed up a hill as my feet slipped in loose rock
There! A blur from in the corner of my eye
I stopped; watched it slowly move above me

Falling to the ground, I hit my head on a rock
Through the black void came an unknown voice
“Time to choose entrance; the pit or gate”

“I was sent to say, make your choice, run or face.”
I ask, “What is this beast that stalks me constantly?”
“It is the manifestation of all your fears and doubts”

I awoke again, seeing a black panther running at me
Fear of failure gripped me as a claw slashed my arm
Somehow I ran headlong into the black forest

There in the bushes cried a small baby, all alone
The panther had spotted it and bounded toward us
I shunned my fear, grabbed the neck of the black beast

It turned into a shadow, an impotent apparition
I viewed the baby closer and saw that it was me
And the voice said, ”Are you ready to try life again?”