New Fall Poems

To my few followers, I apologize for the length of time since my last post.  Have been very busy.

 

This is 'my season' out of them all.  I call it mine for several reasons.  First of all, I was born on the first day of Fall.  Also, I seem to come alive during this transition from the blooming, growing months to the dormant, sleeping months.  I also love the apples and pumpkins, baking and planning for the holidays.  Simply put, I am in love with this season of changing colors, crisp air, and falling leaves.  It is the gateway to winter. 

 

I am finding so much inspiration around me right now that my poetry is quite prolific, at least in my opinion.  I finished several poems just this evening. 

 

The following poems are all visions of a season and I hope you enjoy them. 

 

Polished Street

October 12, 2010

Kimberly L. McClune

 

 

The rain soaked street

With polished shine,

Streaked with green and red and white lights

Contrasts the soft, somber, gray sky.

 

*****

Leaf Dance

By Kimberly L. McClune

October 25, 2010

 

Drying yellow leaves

Sparkle like light pink jewels

On the branches before 

They sway and dance

In the crisp Autumn wind.

 

*****

Depth of Beauty

By Kimberly L. McClune

October 27, 2010

 

 

Inner golden glow

Layered with orange hues,

Wrapped in deep red and russet tones,

Tipped with ancient browns.

Colors move, blending one to another.

 

*****

As always, it is my sincere hope that you enjoy these offerings.  Comments are welcome and appreciated.  Enjoy this lucious season to it's fullest.

 

Inspiration II

Wow, talk about inspiration.  Me and my littel hand held recorder went to town this morning in the rain.  Watched it reflecting light on the street, gathering on my window, making tracks down my window, listened to the sound of it agains the windows at home and in the car....Wrote three poems tonight about rain.
Here are two of them.  The other is posted separately.  Enjoy!

Raindrop Rhythm

October 12, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

Raindrop rhythm

Drip

Drip drip drop

Plunk

Plunk plunk

Plunk

Plunk plunk

Faster now

Drip drip

Drip drip drip

Drip Drip drop

Drip drop

Drip drip drop

Drip drop

Quicker

Pit a pit a pit a

Pit a pit a pat

Pit a pat

Fast but soft

Pit a pat

Pit a pit a pat

Pit a pat

Pit a pit a pat

Still soft it begins to sizzle

Sizzle

Sizzle sizzle

On the window

Sizzle on the ground

It sizzles,

It spatters up

Spatters up like bacon in the pan

Chicken in the fryer

Spatters up

Sizzle Sizzle

Sizzle

Sizzle Sizzle

Sizzle

Slower now

Pit a

Pit a pit a pat

Pit a

Pit a pit a pat

Slowing again

Drip drip drip drop

Drip drip drop

Drip

Drip drip drop

Finally ending

Plunk

Plunk Plunk plunk

Plunk

Drip drip drop

Plunk

Plunk Plunk

Raindrop rhythm

**********

Polished Street

October 12, 2010

Kimberly L. McClune

The rain soaked street

With polished shine,

Streaked with green and red and white lights

Contrasts the soft, somber, gray sky.

******

Raindrops

Raindrops
October 12, 2010
By Kimberly L. McClune


Random patterns on the window
Pooling in the corners
Pooling on the sill.
Small rivers creep down my window
Little racetracks
Dripping and falling, gliding smoothly.
Random patterns
Raindrop patterns

Newest poems

As seems to be my norm, I wrote the sunrise poem on the way to work this morning.  Was not very careful about driving a writing this time.  Need to get my new handheld recorder in line so I can talk my poems while I drive.

 

The second is in praise and enjoyment of my friends little 4 yr old whom I had the pleasure of spending the day with that last weekend.  These few words do not do justice to his sweet little spirit.  I hope you enjoy them.

 

Autumn Sunrise

October 11, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

 

Wind stroked clouds,

Shaped and pulled

Curved and smooth.

Contrast dark and light

Gently floating

Moving one into the other.

Stretching to hide the golden orb,

Reaching across the tender blue of morning.

 

 

4 Years Old

October 10, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

 

Impetuous blue eyes

Infectious boyish giggle

Frenetic motion.

Constant, new curiosity

Circling, smiling, giggling.

Playful mischief.

Blonde Joy.

 

Inspiration

Fear not that my lack of new poems posted has meant I am giving up.  I know it's been a while, but this last week was full to the brim.

Insiration lies in every part of my life, from work at the office to my daughter, to my relationships, to little four year olds chasing bubbles.  More poems are to come.

I appreciate those of you who are checking out my posts and am glad that those of you who have commented have been positive.  So far this experience has been such a revelation to me.  In fact, so much so that I will be sharing a poem very publicly very soon.  I'm afraid to do it, but will do it just the same.  A friend of mine has been luring me out of my hiding place and encouraging me to be brave.  I will share the ppoem here soon and I'll keep you all 'posted' on how the reveal goes to the outside world.

Thanks for your support.

"In A Rush
October 6, 2010
By Kimberly L. McClune

Like a tornado
Relentless and powerful
Swirling round
Gathering
Depositing
Thoughtless work

Unstoppable
Forging ahead
Oblivious surroundings
Out of control
Focused but scattered
Hopeful to end"

Newest Poem Post

So, as the days at work become one with each other, I sat at work and took respite in writing about how it feels to be in such a mad rush to accomplish something, anything......

 

Here it is.  Perhaps others can find something familiar here so that I don;t feel so alone.

 

In A Rush

October 6, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

 

Like a tornado

Relentless and powerful

Swirling round

Gathering

Depositing

Thoughtless work

 

Unstoppable

Forging ahead

Oblivious surroundings

Out of control

Focused but scattered

Hopeful to end

Two new poems - Family

So, after skirting the subject out of fear that I would not do it justice, family has come to the forefront of my poetry for a time.

Here are two inspired by my grandmother.  If you don't quite get it, it's o.k. Here are some clues.....my grandmother had a silent laugh.  When she got to laughing hard enough she stopped making noise and just did an almost silent wheeze as a laugh.  In 'The Laugh' I am trying to capture that memory.

Not many remember the 'Hand with the Power,' but I sure do.  When we couldn't open a jar or lid, my Grandmother would take it and in one swift try, remove the lid as though there was never any problem.  She called it her 'Hand with the Power.'  Now if you knew my grandmother, she had bad arthritis by the time I remembered her using the 'Hand with the Power' so it was really something to see her open a jar or bottle with those beautiful crooked hands.  She employed it, in my young memory, whenever there was something we kids couldn't do by ourselves.  For me, it was just another one of the many wonderful things I loved about her.

The Laugh

September 27, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

At first a giggle

Then a soft laugh.

As it progresses

Becomes silent

And more funny

As it persists.

Breathing shorter

Then a wheeze.

Tears fall

Sides held.

Silence maintains

Then slowly subsides.

****

The Hand with The Power

September 27, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

Whether bottle, jar, or box

If the lid was stuck,

Too tight to move,

You took it and employed

The hand with the power.

It could remove any impediment

To the progress of a meal,

Remove any obstacle to a project,

Relieve any doubt of you

And your great abilities.

Newest Poem

So, now that Autumn is here, my favorite season, and poetry as taken a hold of me, my next subject had to be the new season.

 

This poem was actually inspired by a piece of music by a favorite pianist, George Winston.  His 'Autumn ' is one of my favorite albums he has done.  The selection "Longing/Love" is my favorite cut on that album.  In whistling it to myself in the car this afternoon, words once again flooded into my head and I had to start writing.  Spent most of the afternoon going over and over it hopefully making it perfect.

 

Please enjoy.

 

New Season

September 25, 2010

By Kimberly L. McClune

 

Colors fill the sky.

Sunset lights the waning sky.

Colors fill the sky

And take my breath away,

Take me to new heights.

 

That's when the summer sun goes down,

It goes o'er the crest of the far hill.

That's when the summer sun goes down

Harvest full moon rises so high.

 

The leaves are changing and falling down to the ground

They float and they swirl all around.

The red and gold and russet leaves fall down

They float and they swirl all around.

 

The wind carries them through a crystal clear sky

And the sun warms the crisp air,

The breezes bring us a feeling of change in our hearts

And we welcome it openly, feeling it, smelling it, tasting it, seeing it.

 

The Autumn winds have come now.

The air is crisp and clear now.

The leaves have changed to gold now.

And we begin to reap now.

 

The sun hangs low in the sky.

The leaves float and fill the sky.

The wind whips crisp through the sky.

The full moon shines in the sky.

 

Glowing with gold

Shining with red

Gleaming yellow

Fiery russet

 

The changing season fills my heart.

It brings a joy of living.

My eyes are filled with the beauty.

This coming season is a gift.

 

Long northern shadows scatter on the ground

New glow washes over the land.

Every single thing has a new countenance

And shows a new face to the world.

 

A brighter sun shines in the new Autumn day

A new breeze fills the air with its song,

Colors, brilliant and new pop up everywhere.

The season is known for;

 

                falling leaves,

                                                            falling leaves,

                               

 

                                     falling leaves,

 

 

                                                                   falling leaves,

 

 

                             falling leaves.

 

Falling leaves fall.

 

Glowing with light

Then down they fall.

 

A new season is here.

Crisp air, new sun, full breeze

Lead us toward the Winter.

Newest Poem

Early Autumn Moon

September 21, 2010

Kimberly McClune

Peeking from behind cloudy tendrils,

The silvery sphere shines hazily

Looking upon a darkened landscape.

Dusky, jagged fingers

Traverse the darkened sky

Obscuring the radiant autumnal disk.  

The translucent brume obscures its light.                 

Only a dim image appears

From beneath its cloudy sheath.

Slowly emerging from its concealment,

The re kindled celestial beacon

Transmits a full harvest of light.

*********************************
Here is the newest poem as described in my post tonight.  Have had a few positive comments thus far and reading it gives me a chill.  (in a good sense)

Intersting twist

I now find that the stories I was trying to work on to post and further along are behind me.  I am thoroughly overtaken with my inspirations for poems.  Have written 8 in the last month.  Finding my inspiration in my life, my friends and in nature thus far. 

 

Watching the moon on the drive home just after dark last night I found words flooding my head.  Got home and shooed away my daughter in order to finish my thoughts.  That poem is perhaps my best thus far.

 

Wrote poems for and about two friends and about smoke just on Friday alone.  Three in one day.  In school, poetry amazed, scared and thrilled me all at the same time.  When the assignment in class was to write my own, I was one of the ones who froze - solid.  I had no idea how to start.  Now I can't seem to stop once I get going and it takes very little to get me started.

 

Totally ecstatic that my daughter's teachers find her ability to come up with story ideas is uncanny.  She writes and writes in class.  The teacher said she has an excellent voice in her writing.  It thrills me that she is able to put so much of herself out there in her work.  It has taken me until my ripe old age here to get to this point in my work.

 

I hope that those of you taking a look at what I have produced are satisfied that I am painting a clear picture that is both interesting and touching for you. 

 

 

Third Poem Post

Smoke
September 17, 2010
Kimberly L. McClune

Clinging to the air in ever changing shapes and patterns
Gradient translucence moves in silent grace
From one form to another.
It wafts upward and outward
Swirling dreamily.
It’s unfocused, purposeless, free and unfettered existence
Finally dissipates into nothingness.

The inspiration for this was actually a cigarette. I was driving down Broadway to meet friends for dinner and was behind a red truck. The man driving was smoking a cigarette with the window down. At a red light, I found myself watching the smoke float about in and out of the window and this poem was born.

I am surprised that I seem to find inspiration just about anywhere for putting together a few words.

Enjoy.

Second Poem Post

O.K. so this time my poem is about the sky before sunset.  Once again I am in the car and checking out the sky, which is streaked with light in such a fascinating way.  My head is once again filling with words before I can get to my destination and write them all down. Notes for this were taken at stop lights on my trip. The poem itself was completed after I got home.  No I do not write while I am driving, at least not very often. Hope you like it.

 

Evening Sky

September 14, 2010

 

Patterned clouds,

Rays of sun,

Patches of soft grays,

Woven with delicate filaments.

 

Quilted fragments of sunset.

Shining, wispy threads,

Stitched with light,

Designed by Heavens Hand.

 

By Kimberly L. McClune

 

My daughter has offered to paint a picture to depict this poems images.  I will endeavor to figure out how to post that once it's complete.

Second story post

Here is a story that I have not completed yet.  It stems from a bedtime story I told to Julia and had re told with different endings, etc.  I have been considering whether this character should be in multiple stories or if I should just pick one and stick to it.  I'm waiting for the little gal to speak to me and let me know what direction to take her in.  The title character is based on a stuffed animal Julia got at the hospital. Many of the characters in my bedtime stories are based on her 'friends.'

 

As always, I welcome any comments or ideas.  Thanks and I hope you enjoy what I have created so far.

 

**********************

Working title: "The Story of Icicle"

 

Shivering out in the cold at the base of a large pine tree was a tiny polar bear cub.  Through the blowing snow her eyes were fixed on the brightly lit front door.  There was a pretty wreath on the door with a big red ribbon.  The house looked so warm and inviting.

 

The little cub carefully made her way to the stairs and started to climb up.  She heard a noise and stopped, almost afraid to move.  Then she heard laughter from inside.  As she started to climb the last two stairs, she heard happy voices behind the big front door.

 

When the tiny cub reached the front door she reached out her paw and gave it a scratch.  Then she gave it a knock.  It wasn't a loud knock, but it was enough. 

 

"Mom, I think I heard someone at the door." said a girl's voice.

"Are you sure? Who would be out on a night like this?" replied a woman's voice.

 

Soon the big door opened a little and a girl with short brown hair and brown eyes looked out.  She didn't see anyone and started to shut the door saying, "Mom, you're right.  No one's there." 

 

"Shut the door quickly.  Don't let the snow and cold inside." said the woman's voice.

 

Before the girl could shut the door, the tiny cub let out a small yelp.  The girl looked down and froze in place.  A big smile came across her face and she bent down in the doorway.  She stared at the tiny cub for a moment.

 

"Honey, shut that door!" came a cry from the woman somewhere beyond the door.

 

The girl stood up and called back, "But Mom, there's a little bear cub out here.  Come see!"

 

In a moment, a woman with short red hair wearing an apron was at the door looking down at the cub.  "Oh, honey, it's so tiny!" she said.

 

"Yeah, Mom, can we bring it inside?  I'm afraid it'll freeze out there tonight."

 

"I suppose we'll have to, dear." the woman replied.

 

So the cub was taken inside the cozy house and placed on a pillow in front of a lovely fire.  The cub could hear pretty music playing.  She cuddled up on the pillow and the girl sat down beside her.  The girl petted the cub and put a soft blanket over her.  The tiny cub started to feel all warm and snuggly.

 

Soon the woman brought a shallow dish of warm milk and set it down by the pillow.  Immediately the cub wiggled out from under the blanket and put her nose down in the dish and drank slowly.  She seemed to be savoring every drop.  Feeling its warm goodness go down her throat, filling her empty tummy.

 

In a little while the girl called to her mother, "Mom can we give her something to eat?"

 

"Yes." was the answer that came from the kitchen.

 

The little girl got up and went to the kitchen.  After a short time, she returned with a small plate of tuna.  She placed the dish down next to the pillow.  The little cub wiggled out from under the blanket again and nibbled up the tuna until it was all gone.  She looked up at the girl and smiled, then got herself back under the warm blanket.

 

The girl watched, mesmerized by the little cub.  She thought that it hardly seemed real.  The cub was pure white with a turned up nose and two sweet black eyes that seemed to smile at her.  She felt that the cub was very special, but couldn't put her finger on why.  So she sat down again next to the pillow and began to stroke the fur on the back of the cubs head.  Relaxing with every touch, the cub snuggled further down against the soft pillow with the warmth of the fire and the blanket reviving her.

First Story Post

Lead in for this unfinished story.........Characters are from life.  Barbara is my Mom and this takes place when she was a little girl.  Mrs. Peabody is an imaginary friend.  Trying to detemrine who my audience is for this one so it seems a little flat to me just now.  Any comments or suggestions are very welcome.

 

Leaf Cookies

One hot summer day when Mother was at work, Barbara went to Great Aunt Kates and took her best imaginary friend, Mrs. Peabody.  Most of the day Great Aunt Kate was in and out of her garden so Barbara and Mrs. Peabody busied themselves with whatever they could find.

 

The two friends went outside and tried to find a way to stay cool.  Barbara found some fallen leaves in a shady area and started to make a pile of them.  She decided to bake them and Mrs. Peabody wanted to help.  But, what could you bake out of leaves?  Barbara and Mrs. Peabody thought about it as they collected a few more. 

 

Finally, Mrs. Peabody came up with a brilliant idea.  They would make cookies.  The leaves were just the right size.  Barbara decided that there must be a way to make a leaf just like a real cookie.  Not really knowing how to bake a cookie, she went in the house and came out with a bowl of water and some soap.

 

The two friends went about mixing up a batter with the soap and when it was done they dipped each leaf in it then laid them out to dry on a rock.  They thought the rock would make a good oven since the sun was so hot that day.  While they waited for the sun to bake their leaf cookies the friends went inside for lemonade and a snack.

 

After an hour and a half the two friends went back outside to check on their cookies.  The leaves were still soggy, but the soap was almost burned on the edges.  Barbara and Mrs. Peabody cleaned up the cookies then tried to figure out what went wrong.  The leaf cookies didn't turn out like real cookies at all.  Before they could try again it was time to go home.

 

The next afternoon, Barbara and Mrs. Peabody were at Great Aunt Kate's again.  Once again they went to the backyard and gathered leaves for a new batch of cookies.  This time Barbara made a thick paste from the soap and water.  The two friends coated each leaf with a thick layer of the paste.  The leaves were placed further apart on more than one rock this time.  They hoped that the changes made to their recipe would yield a better leaf cookie.

 

Mrs. Peabody and Barbara played a game with a ball outside for a while then went in for a snack.  When they remember to check on their cookies they found them a little stiffer, but the paste was still not dry after two hours in the hot summer sun.  The girls decided to change the recipe again the next day.

 

As soon as Barbara got to Great Aunt Kate's she went out to the backyard with Mrs. Peabody and started to gather a pile of leaves.  Then she went inside and got another bowl of water and some soap.  While Barbara mixed the paste Mrs. Peabody prepared the leaves for baking.  They made a thick paste again, but this time put less of it on each leaf.  After they placed them on the rocks for baking they busies themselves helping Great Aunt Kate in the house. 

 

They returned two hours later and found that the leaf cookies were a little more cookie like, but still not quite stiff enough to be a cookie.  The friends cleaned up their final attempt and went inside for a lunch, disheartened.  Great Aunt Kate asked Barbara about the project.  Barbara described what they were doing and how they tried different ways each day, but couldn't make leaf cookies. 

 

Little did Barbara know, but Great Aunt Kate got such delight from this account that she told quite a few people about it.  Before long everyone was asking Barbara about her leaf cookies.  Barbara was proud to describe her efforts and her final determination that leaves could not be made into cookies.  Everyone was very impressed with Barbara's ability, for one so young, to attempt a project of this kind.

 

Barbara and Mrs. Peabody moved on to other pursuits as the summer wore on because making leaf cookies was not a very cool activity. 

First poem post

So the lead in for my first post is.....I was driving eastbound to work about two weeks ago and the sky was incredible and words flooded into my head as I tried to figure out how to tell everyone about it.  I wanted to write it down, but I was driving so it got shorter and shorter as I drove so I could remember it when I arrived at work.  Here it is.

 

Sunrise

 

Radiant tiers brushed with light

Fanned out across the sky

Gracefully reach for the earth

 

First ever blog post

O.K. since entering the cyberworld years ago through work in the mid to late '80's, I never imagined that people could share information in the many and various ways available now.  However, the present is still amazing to me and so is this blog.

 

My reasons for wanting to blog are many.  They all stem from my love of writing, reading and music.  While I am fortunate that my work allows me to write and get paid for it, the type of writing is not my favorite and does not allow for much creativity or self-expression.  In my world of work I write about how auto accidents happen or why the damages paid were reasonable and necessary based on the mechanism of an accident.  I also write about injuries and property losses, both commercial and personal.  While I am very good at this and prevail in almost every case against the other party, it leaves me flat.  The victory is short lived when I think of what I really want to use my abilities for.

 

The writing I would choose is not only more creative, but much more diverse.  My daughter would say that I tell the best stories, many that have been penned to paper.  Poetry, song lyrics and serial stories like I used to read in the newspaper when I was growing up are also areas where I have ideas and unfinished projects to complete.  One serial story I remember was 'Santa and the Ice King.'  It ran from Thanksgiving, or thereabouts, to Christmas back in 1970 or '80 something.  I have it saved in a box somewhere in the basement.  Putting together a series of children's books would also be a glorious and fun accomplishment for me.    (Although anything requiring illustration would require the help of an artistic friend since even my stick figures are a bit lacking)  There is even a cookbook with my grandmothers recipes out there in the wings of my life's stage that I long to complete.

 

So my reasons for blogging......I want to write, share my writing and receive constructive criticism on my work in order to improve.  After all, I am not interested in writing for myself alone.  My heartfelt desire is for others to read my stories or poems or lyrics, etc. and find something special, unexpected, or even familiar within.  

 

So as you follow my blog, read my work and make a comment or two, or three as you like.  Just remember, if the criticism is not honest and fair, if it is not given in kindness, I will simply ignore it.  I understand what it means to open myself up in this way to others and am willing to accept the criticism or edits suggested, but only if given in kindness and the spirit of helpfulness.  So friends, thank you and I hope you enjoy what you will find posted here.