poetry

a message

endless days of cold rain
and blurry eyes stuck on
the dangerous blue glow
of a sad world gone wrong:

each message from the screen
shows it’s out of control.

but then i see a smile
and it heats me up with hope,
that the sick will become
again healthy and whole…


A NOTE TO YOU.

Hello, my dear readers! As you all know, we are battling a dangerous virus that has spread to almost every nation in our beautiful world. I know that my words cannot act as a vaccine against the coronavirus pandemic, but I will say that I pray each and every one of you is safe and healthy. We will get through this–and come back stronger than before.

Much love to you all,

-K.

poetry

salt in the wound (a poem)

they say salt
in the wound’s
supposed to
cure you.

if it don’t
cure you,
then it’ll
sting you.

but the sting’s
sure better than
the pain
inside:

so

cover up your
wounds, cover
them under
your hide;

and when the
salt touches
where i
touch you,

you will wish
the sting was
replaced
with time.


AN EXPLANATION.

Hello, my dear readers!

Another day, another poem for you guys, and today’s is… Well, it’s a little guy come to life from a random cold January night in which I thought to myself: “Salt in the wound seems like a cool phrase. I wonder if I can make a poem out of it.” And here we are.

Does anyone actually say, “Salt in the wound’s / supposed to cure you?” I’m going to guess not, but this question is actually something I really considered as I was writing it. At first the question didn’t make sense to me, because if there is anything in anybody’s physical wound, it’s going to hurt and make you even worse. But as I wrote the poem, I thought to myself: But what if that’s exactly what it’s for? What if rubbing salt into our wounds hurts us more, and therein lies the cure to our issue in the first place? Yup, there I go off on a tangent again that probably will go over even my head by the time I publish this.

Anywho, salt in our wounds hurts. It’s painful, but it sure does leave a stinging memory in its past. While we want it out ASAP, that salt’s power is engrained in us and who we become. And what happens if that metaphorical salt never really goes away, and our pain goes from external to internal? Well, that’s not a good diagnosis is my guess.

Tell me what you guys think! I love hearing your analyses and opinions. ❤ And in the meantime prepare yourself for Monday’s blog post that will stray from writing and head into the topic of…

Am I stressing you out when I keep it to myself? Or is that just annoying?

Wait until Monday to find out!

Katie Kay

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poetry

scroll (a poem)

dead sea scrolls,
instagram posts
of time gone cold
and human ghosts

a world away
in space up above,
i wish i’d stray,
a cosmic dove

to bring myself
from the black screen,
to the bookshelf
of my dark dreams.

within pages
of ice and gold,
my heart cages
thoughts of long ago.

memories from
all those silly notes,
small paper crumbs
with swift past quotes.

messenger gods,
listen with glee:
despite the odds,
i think i have
lost track,
lost track
of me.

poetry

on the dark side (a poem)

on the dark side
of the cold moon
i stand alone
waiting for you

drowned in

your dark shadow,
lost memories,
as your light fades
over centuries


AN EXPLANATION.

While I wish I could provide a definite explanation for this poem, my dear readers, the truth is that I am unsure the true meaning. I always enjoy decoding symbolism behind everything, but this is a poem borne from my stream of consciousness.

Who is the narrator, and why is he or she in the darkness? What kind of cosmic darkness hangs above the narrator’s head? And why is the narrator waiting? Why is the narrator terrorized by the memories he or she experiences from the past (“the light”) that is fading?

I wish I could tell you. Maybe you can tell me.

Stay tuned for Monday’s post! And once again thank you for joining me on this journey. 2020 is still fully ahead of us, so let’s live with both kindness and question of the world around us.

Until next time,

-Katie Kay

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poetry

regret (a poem)

wallow in your grief,
swallow your regret.
dig your nails into my skin,
your words claws in my ribs.
i didn’t ask for this, the answer
a gunshot through my head.

yet you haunt me at night, dear Regret;
you smile at me with scarlet eyes,
your lips pale and pink, teeth starched
white and oily, waiting for me.
you wait to pull the skin from my bones,
and the merriment from my blood.

i didn’t ask for you; i never wanted you.
but instead of sweet wishes and dreams,
curlicues and unicorns and glitter,
you came to my doorstep, holding
a letter, addressed to me from you:
Katie, I got you, when nobody else does.


AN EXPLANATION.

Oh, my dear readers, just know you are not a regret I have!

We all have certain things we regret, whether that be a choice, relationship, you name it. Though I’d like to pretend regrets don’t bother me, deep down they do. So I have a feeling they probably affect you too.

So while it’s fun to write poems about them, it’s not very fun to admit that you do have regrets. But that is why I encourage you (and me too, to be honest) that we cannot change the past, and that we have the beauty to change our trajectory in the present moment. We can do what we need to do to shape the world the way we want, and that’s the power of our choice. Of course, we may not be able to get exactly what we want, but sometimes it’s more about the attempt than the result.


THANK YOU, MY DEAR READERS!

Thank you guys for joining me today. I know I have not published anything in a while, so I just wanted to thank you guys for coming back to this blog after a few weeks of inactivity. This blog is definitely not one of my regrets. ❤

That’s all from me for now. It’s good to be back!

Until next time,

-Katie Kay.

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Sunset over Goleta, California.