Moods

Lahoma and Katherine

Fri, 15 Oct 2004 13:39:05 GMT

It is so strange that this picture looks fine on Lahoma's journal, but on mine I can't see the last stanza because part of it is white and so is the text. Let me know what you see. This is Lahoma's art and my poem. I think we SHOULD contact the American Breast Cancer Society, as someone suggested.

In fact I think Lahoma and I should do a whole book of poetry and art together.

Jon has been reading "The Purpose Driven Life." It made me wonder if everyone questions their purpose in life?

I have know all my life that it was in my destiny to help other people. I try very hard to do that but, sometimes I get overwhelmed with being spread so thin.

I pray and I keep saying Lord, I can't save the world by myself.

Then he puts his loving hand on my shoulder and says, "I know, but I can."

kentucky Girl

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 08:28:14 GMT

Have you ever seen Kentucky,

On a clear bluegrass night,

when the stars seem to twinkle,

like a baby's first sight.

Have you ever watched the moon,

sweep the river,

in a deep southern swirl?

Than you have seen me in Kentucky,

I 'm that Kentucky girl.

Chorus

Where the bluegrass meets the mountains,

you'll find her bathing near the bridge,,

in the salidago flower,

or the pine upon the ridge,

for Kentucky is a woman,

she's the whole that makes my world,,

Kentucky is a woman,

and I'm that Kentucky girl.

Old men can taste the soil,

and tell you how much it will grow,

old women read their bibles,

but, they can also read your soul.

So when you looked at me don't be fooled,

By the lace or by the pearls,

Cause there's a candor in my cadence,

I'm that Kentucky girl.

Chorus

Where the bluegrass meets the mountains,

you'll find her bathing near the bridge,,

in the salidago flower,

or the pine upon the ridge,

for Kentucky is a woman,

she's the whole that makes my world,,

Kentucky is a woman,

and I'm that Kentucky girl.

It is What we All Wonder

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 02:17:02 GMT

A course description of one mind,

boggled,

keeping up with a life,

this century dictates,

a spill a stain on eternity,

a name, a few short words,

will I ever be remembered,

will you,

will any of the 99.9 percent?

My children will remember,

Perhaps my grandchildren will recall,

a few fractured moments,

friends will reminisce,

over a few laughs,

It is what we all wonder,

have we made some

indelible mark,

one thumbprint,

on a door knob,

on a night stand,

It is what we all hope for,

so why does no one talk about it?

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Passing by a Dandelion in the Breeze

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 13:55:08 GMT

It was a warm spring day,

the kind that melts your troubles

into techno-color hues.

And I passed by a dandelion in the breeze.

It was round and yellow,

and proud of its self,

boastfully smiling at the sun,

as if it alone,

was responsible for it's beauty.

I bent down and touched its tiny tingly pedals,

and I could have sworn it giggled.

It had no way of knowing,

as summer days grow warmer,

and the bunnies leave their burrows,

It soft fine lines of yellow,

would wither to their seed.

And the sweeping summer breeze,

would scatter it's seed to new places,

adorning the country side,

with new yellow dandelions,

ready to have their day in the sun.

Katherine

The Image of Night

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 03:25:12 GMT

The Image of Night

Last night I drempt of you,

the one who carved my heart,

and placed it back into m breast, a useless cog.

Without you love does not exist,

and this heart.

fashioned in shapes of your memory,

is obsolete.

In a world where colors clash in black and white.

where sole surrender,

detains defeat,

I am here,

Living for the sweet Image of the night,

when you will come to me completely,

and this useless heart will beat again.

It's Tax Time! Get tips, forms and advice on AOL Money & Finance.

Listening to my Sons Music

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 13:04:55 GMT

I listened to the music of my sons,

and caught the notes

whizzing in the air.

with a mother's universal hands,

I placed them in my ears.

Buzzing with energy,

some became beams,

of electric smiles,

that could not be held,

Others more docile but,deliberate,

threaded themselves to the veins of my heart,

and became,

the beat,

I live by.

IN THESE TIMES

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 12:30:45 GMT

IN THESE TIMES

In these times

when music screeches of hawk noise

A "put chang- put chang" as vicious as the snap

of an AKA 47,

when entertainment has become

the marrow of another's bones drying in desert light,

with all eyes watching

when the nucleus of family once revered

warm and fragile as a robins egg

has been crushed

When virgins are sacrificed on the alter

of alcohol and drugs that stave their minds,

And devour their soul,

When young men feed the ego narcoleptic fodder

and house our prisons as bulging eyed frogs

Sitting on pharaohs shoulder.

When mommies drink an afternoon of death

and daddies in cheap hotels elect diversion,

and quell what is left of her,

When grandparents in thick long roots,

stand unmitigated to the debauchery,

hiding behind their bark.

When government is the lying bastard,

a poltergist of unwanted amalgamation,

invading your every pore,

Then enforced reality is upon us,

like the four horsemen...

The hooves mesmerizing and drowning

Out our own thoughts.

In these times will you.....

Do...

Nothing?

They will usher you to the alter of confusion,

Show them the power of the mind.

Katherine Van Hook Gulley

IS THIS ALL

Tue, 21 Aug 2007 12:34:36 GMT

"Is this all there is?

Her question lay on her bottom lip like a cancer,

to life i mean,

we are born,

we live,

we hurt,

we die".

Her cancer spread across the room

in a mist of putrid green.

I held my breath,

but still it enveloped me.

I sucked in the poison air around us,

And held my answer in search of something meaningful.

Out the window I watched a simple sparrow fall,

unnoticed by the world,

and curled my lips around the bitter word,

"Yes".

Tue, 21 Aug 2007 12:12:45 GMT

HE WAS A WALL OF PAPER

LAYER AFTER LAYER

PRETTY EXPRESSIONS

EACH ONE DIFFERENT

EACH ONE THE SAME

I PEELED THE LAYERS

MARVELING AT EACH

YET EACH LAYER

WAS AS SHALLOW

AS THE NEXT

PAPER FLOWES

PAPER SHIPS

PAPER SHAPES

HE WAS PAPER

THROUGH AND THROUGH

I AM GLAD I SCRATHCED THE SURFACE

ON LAST TIME

I NEEDED TO KNOW THE TRUTH

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PAPER

AND THE SMELL THE TOUCH

OF SOMETHING REAL.

MY LOVER'S GHOST

Tue, 21 Aug 2007 12:15:53 GMT

My Lover's Ghost

Like winter wheat cold and hollow,

whispering low those moaning winds,

so does my lover's spirit follow,

I know the pain his ghost will send.

It drowns away like distant music,

seeking comfort fading fast.

And cuts right though my heart of sorrow,

then leaves me frozen and aghast.

There is no turmoil like the feeling ,

Of waves engulfing all around.

and swallowing your very being,

love takes hold and you are drowned.

And when I hear those winds moaning,

In the twilight on this haunted coast,

I will shiver in remembrance,

And know it's just my lover's ghost.