Through the Window

Window, Eyes, Poetry, National Poetry Month

It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Sometimes, you have to reflect on what your eyes see and do a self-examination of yourself as you look through the window into your very own soul. Sometimes when you stare the truth in the face, it hurts, but it could offer some life-saving revelations. Take a look around and don’t be afraid to leap into your victory.

Through the Window

Today, against my will
I was forced to sit down and look out of my window
I didn’t notice anything immediately
but, in the matter of a split second
amazingly, without the help of a storybook
the story of my life was told.

Pain, challenges and grief
irreplaceable celebrations, joys, and relationships
there, before me as I watched my life’s story
through the gallery of my motion picture window.

I tried to solve everyone’s problems
tried to make everyone comfortable
without them knowing my personal struggles
because I thought, I was strong enough to handle everything.

I don’t want to change the compassionate person that I am
the love in my heart for others
my desire to help those in true need
or change the person that God created me to be.

But I must change some crucial things
causing me to lose perspective as I look through my window
eyes that were once blinded
through a distorted lens of theatrics.

As my senses awaken and refocus
I can see a day where the sun is shining especially bright
hearing the birds singing more cheerfully than before
where the grass is greener than it’s ever been
my sense of smell is keener
my taste buds can savor the essence of life more delectably

and the unexplainable needs no explanation
because my load is now in the hands
of divine control beyond human comprehension
putting everything that was broken back together again.

-Kym Gordon Moore © All Rights Reserved

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Meet Me At The Playground

Playground, Nationl Playground Safety Week, Playing

National Playground Safety Week 2017 is April 24-28. Playgrounds are not only a place to focus on the safety of children’s outdoor play environments, but a time for children to educationally engage in an active environment. For more information about National Playground Safety Week, be sure to check out the National Program for Playground Safety and find out how to inspect your local playgrounds and complete playground safety checks and evaluations.

To celebrate this week I would like to share the following poem Forever Young at the Playground as my salute to childhood memories and wholesome fun at the neighborhood playground.

Forever Young at the Playground

The old woman was there every day
sitting on a weathered wooden garden bench
listening to bursts of laughter and screams of joy-filled excitement
reminders of her youth and times spent in the great outdoors

long since widowed, alone but not lonely, she came
she sat and watched with her cane laying on the seat nearby
once occupied by her husband swept in arms of youthful gladness
seesaws, monkey bars, jungle gyms and swings
a merry-go-round, slides, sandboxes and playhouses

watching the children’s flexibility, and carefree attitudes
flipping, running with daring cartwheel competitions
she watches as everyone leaves then grabs her cane
walking over to the steps of the slide, climbing up
she sat at the top, and surveys the playground

taking a deep breath with feet extended
she came gliding down, landing bottom first in the sand
sitting there for a moment, slightly stunned
suddenly a belly laugh erupted that almost made her gag
she grabbed her cane, propped herself up, brushed herself off
towards the swings she set her sight and then walks

she remembers the teeter-totters, tetherballs and animal springers
scars from their rambunctious games of outdoor play was honorable
she sits in the seat, grabs the vinyl coated chains
legs positioned to push off, but feels tiny hands on her back
a voice says softly, “Let me push you grandma”
with a smile and a tear streaming down one cheek
she says “Ok” and as she sways back and forth
sprinkles of her youth flashes before her
at the playground, she will always be forever young and free.

-Kym Gordon Moore

Happy #NationalPlaygroundSafetyWeek during #NationalPoetryMonthPlayground, Playground Equipment

Musical Waters

Water, Poetry, Dancing Waters, National Poetry Month

Musical Waters
(excerpt from the poem “Musical Waters” in the book Wings of the Wind: A Cornucopia of Poetry, 2013)

where the wind’s velocity determines whether the water sings falsetto,
soprano, alto, tenor or base
an aquatic musical composition
bursting with a poetic rhapsody
never the same sheet of music
as the smooth breeze
caresses the water like a tinkling chime
envisioning a ballerina performing her pirouette à la seconde

~

the sun sparkling on the water
like a spotlight hitting a sequined dress on the dance floor
the essence of a vision fair
where water is kissed with a seductive touch
dancing with the swirling cool air.

Happy #NationalPoetryMonth

Fright Night

Poetry, Dreams, Running, From Behind the Pen

Fright Night

I tossed and turned all night

panic-stricken dreams

drenched in night sweats

I’m running, from who or what

I don’t know, I’m just running

trying to dodge the chase

from an unknown entity

I know not what it is

 

I haven’t done anything wrong, or have I?

I try screaming, but I am mute

I look around for help but there is none

so I run

dashing across a street

not paying attention to oncoming traffic

for there is none and so I run

anxiousness overwhelms me as I leap

into a cemetery where the ground is barren

the graves all edged in river rock lay

I see the back of a women’s head

she sits by a headstone, but whose I don’t know

I’m afraid

if I wasn’t then I wouldn’t be running

 

I am still being chased

yet determined to escape,

if I am caught then what?

I don’t know. I fight?

There are others standing around,

they aren’t running, they just stand

but why, I haven’t the time to wonder

still I run, for my life depends on it

I won’t be caught

I can’t be taken, the chaser gaining on me

 

when suddenly I am whisked to reality

I open my eyes lying on my back

the room is dark

but I know my way around

I make a mad dash to the bathroom

so that’s why I had to run?

Happy #NationalPoetryMonth

Fore Play

Golf, Sports, Golf Swing, Golf Clubs, Tee

Today is Golfer’s Day. We celebrate by playing the game, recognizing those who play it professionally and leisurely, and many who may not play, but hold the beauty of the game in high regard. It is believed that the game of golf actually originated in Scotland although the true origin of the word is unknown. We salute all of the great Masters Champions of the past, present, and future.

Congratulations are in order to Sergio Garcia who scored big in The 2017 81st Masters Tournament this weekend. This is his first win at The Masters and his first major championship after 19 years on the PGA tour. He walked away with a $1,980,000 prize purse, the famous Green Jacket, his name engraved on the permanent Masters’ trophy which remains at the Club, a Sterling replica of the Masters Trophy and a gold medal. Sweet! The 2017 KPMG Women’s PGA Championship kicks off June 27-July 2, 2017 at the Olympia Fields Country Club in Illinois.

Since I am not a bonafide golfer, although I have all of the equipment to look the part, I decided to share this lighthearted poem, “Fore Play” to commemorate Golfer’s Day and National Poetry Month.

Fore Play

My Titleist was on the tee
Big Bertha in my hand
as he told me to bend my knees
part my legs ever so slightly
keep your eye on the ball he said
then swing your arms, hips, and follow-through
now with a strong voice yell “Fore!”
Huh? What did this have to do with swinging?

Fore what? is the question I had to ask?
What kind of foreplay is this?
To fore-warn others of a wayward shot
no one wants to get hit by a stray ball you know?
Fore crying out loud, why not just yell “Move!”
How about “Watch Out” or “Take cover?”

Fore some crazy twisted reason
I wondered if he was really fore real
when he asked fore what purpose was I here
I looked down at the golf ball
looked out over the green
took a swing as Bertha slapped that ball
the Titleist was airborne and I yelled “Fore”
he asked why I was yelling so loud
I said, “Fore Pete’s sake, you told me to. Pete.”

-Kym Gordon Moore

It’s National Be Kind to Spiders Week? Really?

Arachnid, National Be Kind To Spiders Week, Spiders

Who knew that from April 1 to April 7, we celebrate National Be Kind to Spiders Week? Spiders? Really?

Obviously, I am not a fan of this arachnid, but watching them dutifully spin their webs with their spider silk extruded from spinnerets is a pretty fascinating sight to behold. They are like weavers creating an amazing piece of tapestry. I am in awe of how patient and persistent these creepy crawlers are.

Interestingly, it seems when one of their creations is damaged somehow, they move to another nearby location and start the process all over again. At least that’s what I observed about the spiders hanging out in my backyard.

Well, since we’re celebrating National Poetry Month and also celebrating National Be Kind to Spiders Week, here is a poem Keeper of the Web that was published in my book, Wings of the Wind: A Cornucopia of Poetry.

Keeper of the Web

Spinning translucent threads of silk
making cocoons for their nests
a trap to catch their prey
a haven to take their rest.

At the center of a tangled weave
the keeper of the web quietly sits
calculating, cunning and a smooth operator
patiently waiting with a catcher’s mitt.

Presenting itself as harmless
disguising its ferocious bite
luring you in while piquing your curiosity
then paralyzing your will to fight.

Stay away from its grasp
you’ll be enticed by its deadly bait
once you’re drawn in, the table is set
an attraction you may never be able to escape.

(Published in Wings of the Wind: A Cornucopia of Poetry, by Kym Gordon Moore 2013)

Happy #NationalBeKindToSpiders Week!

Happy #NationalPoetryMonth