Archive | June 2011

Poems and Thoughts by Kate in Early Life

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You say that you love me
How do you know?
Do you now what love is?
You say that you love me
But how can you know?
Can you comprehend what love is?
You say that you love me
Yes, I think that you do
But only the me that I present to you
And yet you say that you love me.
May 1, 1976
Me, what is me?
Me is not a pronoun or any such grammatical symbol.
Me is a label for that I am,
Not past tense,
Not future tense,
But present tense,
Me is now and will always be now,
And neither time nor space can change that,
For even though time changes,
The past stays the same,
And the now is left to carry on.
September 2, 1975
They say some day I’ll fall in love and happy I will be,
They do not know I already have,
They’ll not even attempt to see.
To see how much my heart has ached,
To see how much I’ve cried,
They say that I’m too young to know to young to even try.
To try to make this love of ours work,
To try to make it last.
They say this love I should forget and leave it in the past.
But how can I forget a love that’s good,
A love so great and strong?  I know that I
Could never forget, I’ve known my love too long.
June 18, 1975
He’s bluebirds, meadows, sunshine, the sea, blue skies, raindrops,
blue skies, raindrops, moonlight and free.
He’s snow covered mountains, star-studded skies, baseball,
football and hot apple pies.
He’s all this and more, so loving is he; I can’t help but love him.
He’s precious to me.
April 3, 1976
I’ve wrote more poems than there day about you.
I’ve sung more songs than there are people about you.
I know every line of your face, every curve, every pigment of your skin.
I could mold a bust of your image, I know you so well.
But I won’t.  I remember too much of you as it is…
January 3, 1976
The brightest sky, the sunniest day and all I can do is sit and think of you.
Why?  Did we have that much that even I should long to return?
Or is it just a phase, a subtle depression that I’m passing through?
If only I could hear your voice, touch your arm; caress your lip I would know for sure.
But sad to say, what has been is gone and to recapture it would only destroy beautiful memories so impossible to replace.
May 11, 1976
I dream of the day when upon a white stead
Rides my love and my life coming to me.
He comes with a smile, a caressing strong hand,
And he shouts sweet is love all over the land!
The music plays loud in glorious son.
It plays for the moment and leaves before long.
And then all is silent, the moment so great.
He whispers I love you, awaiting his fate.
A moment has passed, I motion to speak.
The alarm sounds it’s cry, I awake from my sleep.
I think for a moment how real it did seem.
Could it ever have happened?  No, it was only a dream.
January 29, 1976
To remember:
Brisk September days and mid-noon frolics under the son, the tea party’s given beneath shaded trees served with shredded grass and a mud pie bun.
To remember:
Blue pansies growing wild in the meadow, Mom’s smile as I cried over a wilted bouquet.  Oh, to return to the times of innocence, to relive that long lost yesterday…to remember.
May 7, 1976
As the stars leave the sky, I have left my love.
As the babe for his mother does cry,
I also cry for my love.
Al the lioness longs for her mate, I also long for mine.
As has grown the love for him so great, my love for him will grow with time.
December 26, 1975
It’s late at night, maybe one, maybe two.
The house is quiet, impatience creeps into my heart.  It’s finally sunk in that you’re gone, never to return again.  Why must it be like this…Why can I not forget?
I’ve the leisure of knowing a girl so sweet,
A lady in every respect,
She’s charming and petty, as special spring treat,
An image I’d most readily accept.
She’s all the things I’d like to be,
So many things and more.
She’s always there in time of need,
Her hearts an open door.
And when the times are not so bad,
And trouble steps away,
We sit within our cluttered rooms,
And dream of coming days.
Yes, I have the pleasure of knowing a girl
Whose real and not make pretend.
I’ll love and admire her until I die,
She’s my closest and dearest friend.
Oblivious to warning, I jumped into your pre-spun web,
A web spun out evil and gross deterioration.
I weaned upon your lust for freedom
And spat out independence.  Your body was a capsule in which my most inner being could grow and flourish.
But the capsule kept growing smaller as I expanded,
Reaching out into the depths of your mind for well hidden dreams.
Illusions’ unwilling to stir from their shadowed corners.
You would not reach out to me for fear that I would have smothered you with my insecurity.
But as sly as you were you would not see that I was the spider
Who spun the web and planned the rendezvous.
April 1976
Please to remember when I’m gone what I did and carry on.
For fear of what I’ve done will rot in silent corners well forgot.
I need to know, oh please do tell.
Have I done enough, have I done it well?
How terrible to leave for good and not accomplish all I could.
Where is my baby, he’s gone away,
Has not been with me for all these days.
The days have turned to hollow nights
Of absent lovers and tainted lights.
There was a time, I was in love,
We’d hug beneath the stars above.
Those days are gone, I’m still alone,
My eyes are dark, my heart is stone,
…my eyes are dark, my heart is stone.
Another year is come and gone.
One more August yet to dawn.
Two weeks to go, I’m a kid no more.
My life is dull at 24.
The closest friend I have to date
claim’s she has no goals to await.
She, at 27 years will not dream.
She’ll shed no tears.
I, myself, will not believe that dreams
 are destined to make us grieve.
If at 28 I fined I’ve no more
faith in dreams of any kind.
I’d much rather give up now
and take that final curtain bow.
For without dreams and goals and such
this life is not worth all that much.
I reconcile myself to the fact that all plans cannot go my way
Throughout my life there is a trend toward tragic disarray.
Decisions made, stumbled upon and into which I’ve fell,
Create illusions in my dreams, my nightmares they dispel.
It seems the longer that I live, the more I seem to find.
We all perceive the good in what we’ve had to leave behind.
The bad decisions, like coats of paint on cracked and thinning walls
Are covered over with candy shells, the bad we don’t recall.
I suppose its right that this it be, the past I don’t regret.
But if I could, I would you know.  Will I ever really forget?
January 6, 1984
Flesh of my flesh, skin of my skin,
Where have you gone, where have you been?
From me you have come, with me you’re not,
Yet you’re always my children, I’ve chosen my lot.
My daughter, don’t think that I gave you to others
Because I don’t want you or to be your mother.
I saw no alternative; Your daddy was gone,
to Southern California, we were both on our own.
With daddy out west and Bobby with Grams,
I went through some changes that nobody could understand.
Nobody saw it or refused the thought
That I was caught up in all we had naught.
You and I, we had no home.  I was 19 and felt so alone.
Our world I saw crumbled, daddy’s love for me dead
And there was my baby, nine months underfed.
If fate had been different, if control dad taken
over the marriage we’d vowed, you might now be with me,
your growing up I’d have seen.
Both my children together, oh, that it might have been.
Regrets?  Yes, I have many.  Children, I pray, you should believe,
I would have chosen different roads, if my life I could relive.
Yet, you’ll both come to agree, when you both have matured,
that our hindsight is perfect, our foresight is blurred.
Perhaps when that happens, forgive you’ll do
And you’ll know in your hearts just how much I’ve loved you….
January 6, 1984
Why is death so slow incoming?
I guess life isn’t short enough
To experience all that is available to me is to live.
Why be if I am to stay in one spot and stagnate?
Life is too short and the night is too dark
Not to venture out to find on a red eyed monster…
Or a horse of a different color…
I have no use for small minded people
Who care of nothing but their small town lives
And petty complaints.
I am much more expanding in my ventures and gains.
I should like to wallow in the while and
Wither in the weird
For the weird and the different are by far
More exciting and consummating.
To be a pebble on a mile long beach is much like the world I live in
Frustrating to be there and waiting for some force to carry me
To unknown places and untouched plains.
I am but a leaf on a stretch of ivy,
Longing to grow individually, but dependent
On my roots for sustenance and my utter being.
One, two buckle my shoe or don’t buckle it at all
And who cares if Jack jumped over the candlestick?  Me…
I’ll just sit in the corner and search my pie for a
Christmas plum, even if it is the Fourth of July.
People have said my taste in colors are flashy,
But black is a death color….I wonder who are
The truly living and who are the truly dead.
Felatio sounds like an opera or a note one may hit upon
Singing the scale and yet it’s meaning is perverse.
It makes me ponder on the realities of words.
12 to eight, a night long date, production is essential
To keep the date and stay awake is just so coincidental.
And if, by chance, I make amends and do what must be done,
I just might find while far behind the others I must run.
Oh, what a crime, a waste of time,
My life is spent on work, when I could be
Wondering free and learning of my worth.
Take my hand, we’ll go back in time to what life was in years behind,
When people knew of inner grace and life was of a slower pace,
Come back with me to the land.
Take my had, we’ll go back in time to what was in years behind
To days in which the American dream was more than real
And quite foreseen…come with me back to the land.
Touch my eyes and gaze on through to the inner reaches and depths so true.
I know the sun, the feel of the earth and I know as much of my inner worth…
Come with me back to the land.  Come with me, babe, back to the land…
What is death to me is but a rest place in which my tortured soul
May be soothed from the hell this early existence has betrothed me.