Two new poems

These two poems are seasonal.

The first I wrote after continual requests from my daughter to write about the pumpkin patch the kids at her school had planted and tended all summer.  They just finished harvesting all their pumpkins this last week.

The second was written this evening and I am going to submit it for possible publication.

It is a work in progress so be kind with comments.  Constructive comments are always welcome.

Enjoy them both.  They have been fun to put together.

Our Pumpkin Patch

By Kimberly L. McClune

October 11, 2011

Just out the door

Down the stairs

Lies our pumpkin patch.

Seeds planted early

Sprouted in summer

Then became leafy vines.

All summer we watched

Little vines grow and

Leaves spring out,

Covering our garden.

As Summer faded

Vines ceased wandering.

They twisted and curled.

Deep green leaves fanned out

As our little patch expanded.

The fan leaves

Hide our small treasures.

Almost colorless,

Tiny pumpkins peek out

Looking for the sun.

By Summer's end

Vines overtook their bed

Draping down the sides

Onto the sidewalk.

One adventurous vine

Crept to the stairs.

Will it come up to visit?

Fall is coming!

Fall is coming!

Heralds our little patch.

Ripened pumpkins

Hide in tangled vines.

Lifting fan leaves,

One, two, three…

We pluck our treasures.

Although they're small

Our harvest is big enough.

*********

Christmas Wonderland

By Kimberly L. McClune

October 16, 2011

Colors blink across the ceiling

Flashes glow on the floor and walls.

We sit together enjoying the tree,

Humming favorite holiday tunes.

A handful of personal gifts

Placed beneath adorned boughs

Quiet words bid good night

Excited feet hurry to bed.

Heads lay against soft pillows

Waiting for sleep.

Will the jolly old man really come?

What will morning bring?

Sleep arrives and the night glows.

Snow filled clouds release their bounty

Into the cold night air.

A crystal veil shrouds the landscape.

Tiny gems glisten in lamp light

Icy fairy dust spins and drifts

Swirls and dances on chill winds

Alighting gently, quietly, peacefully.

Silent, secret snow gathers

Rooftops, branches, fences, lawns

All decorated with glittering crystals.

Snow ceases as dawn approaches.

A special light entices young eyes

Little noses press to windowpanes

Tiny hands embrace cold sills.

Behold a Christmas wonderland.

The night deposit of crystal joy

Ignites bewildered excitement.

Crystal frosted windows

Frame the delightful winter scene.

The landscape is transformed

No more dreary gray views

An enchanted world awaits.

With a gasp, the tree, the presents!!

Has he been here?

Little feet jump and prance

They fly to find Christmas waiting.

Surely this is a magical day.

Poem Revision

After sharing this piece with my Writer's Circle friend and my Dad, I believe the revisions based on their critiques and a fresh look are very good.  I hope you enjoy this version.

Crabapple Picking

By Kimberly L. McClune

September 13, 2011

Across the lane, awaiting branches dip down.

Dotted with ripe redness

The fruit laden limbs beckon us.

Bags in hand, prepared to claim our booty.

Fresh sweetness surrounds our senses

As Autumns goodness lies before.

Under a delicious canopy, the shiny red fruit,

Guarded by lush green leaves,

Peeks out,

Fingers tempted to pluck them.

A small thrill makes its way down our arms

Past our elbows, to our fingers

As we reach for first crabapples of the season.

The firm, ripe crimson apple, tinted with gold,

Eases gently from its bough.

Some drop to the ground as the branches shake.

Others cling, stubbornly, waiting to be plucked.

Reaching further inward and upward,

The maze of branches calls us to look deeper.

More treasure waits above.

Bags filling, and branches lightening,

The sun slowly makes its way across the heavens.

Woven leaf patterns play on grass,

On our shoulders,

We stretch up through the canopy,

Looking skyward for more luscious treats.

Round or oval; small or large; pear shaped or cherry-like,

Colors dance from pale reds to deep purples,

            Through striated gold and crimson.

Marveling at beauty so earthy, yet delicate,

            We examine each tiny wonder.

Awestruck, scent bearing breezes rustle through boughs

            Bringing Autumns true essence.

Each moment more exhilarating

Bags become heavy and full.

Our voices, carried on those scented breezes,

            Reach flowers afield.

Yonder trees answer with whispering sighs.

As the pilgrimage moves from tree to tree,

Unburdened limbs are free, reaching skyward.

We fill bag after bag, dragging them behind

            Along still green grasses.

Surveying our loot as the sun nears journey's end,

            Satisfied mumblings and laughs fill the breeze.

Riches loaded onto a cart and proudly paraded.

Plans for sweet and savory delicacies fill our thoughts,

            Plunder is borne homeward.

Revised September 25, 2011

New Poems

Here are two new poems out of several that I wrote recently.  The first is from notes I jotted down yesterday morning as I watched the sunrise.  Yes I know yesterday was Saturday and there were no commuters or students, but that is where the poem took me.  The second is a telling of picking crabapples with a friend.  We actually picked three different times last week on our lunch hour.  I sort of rolled it all together.  Enjoy.  Feel free to make comments.

New Day Dawns

By Kimberly L. McClune

September, 18, 2011

Clouds reflect the dawn

Breezes caress the leaves

Colors tint the sky.

Squirrels skitter on branches

Children trek to bus stops

Commuters rush to work.

Watching by the window

The day unfolds before me

How will I fit in today?

Crabapple Picking

By Kimberly L. McClune

September 13, 2011

Across the lane, awaiting branches dip down.

Dotted with ripe redness

The fruit laden limbs beckon us.

Bags in hand, we come prepared to claim our booty.

Fresh sweetness surrounds our senses

As Autumns goodness lies before.

Under a delicious canopy the shiny red fruit,

Guarded by lush green leaves,

Peeks out,

Tempting our fingers to pluck them.

A small thrill makes its way down our arms

Past our elbows, to our fingers

As we reach for our first crabapples of the season.

The firm, ripe crimson, tinted with gold,

Eases gently from its bough.

Some drop to the ground as the branches shake.

Others cling, stubbornly, waiting to be plucked.

Reaching further inward and upward,

The maze of branches calls us to look deeper.

More treasure waits above.

Bags filling, and branches lightening,

The sun slowly makes its way across the heavens.

Woven leaf patterns play on the grass and on our shoulders

As we stretch up beneath the canopy.

Looking skyward for more luscious treats.

Revised poem post

The following is the revision and final version of a poem I posted a little while ago.  After it was read by a few folks, I made a few changes and hope you like it as well or better than it's original.

New Morning

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 13, 2011

Long cool shadows stretched across glossy turf.

Bud, blade, branch

Adorned with crystal droplets

Kindled by speckled sunlight.

Chirp embellished breezes

Whisper through newly appointed boughs.

Pungent with recent rain,

Air full and sweet envelopes arms, shoulders,

Hair.

Brightened orient rises,

Shunning old, empty billows.

Azure heaven emerges

Inviting new day's bloom.

Revised July 5, 2011

New information: After starting to attend a Writer's Circle at a local library, I have made friends with a fellow poet.  She and I have met up and talked poetry, our lives and our inspiration over pie.  We have very different writing styles, but find common ground in almost every poem we share with each other.  Last night we shared a few poems and I found out that she strongly dislikes Canadian Geese and loves the ocean.

I am very excited about the opportunities the circle will bring for growth and learning.  The friendships are welcome also.

Revised poem post

Below is the final revision of a recent poem. 

Join a Writer's Circle at a local library.  The ladies in the group are nice, fun and appear to be quite talented.  This is a very good opportunity to share your work, any genre is accepted.  I'm looking forward to the next meeting, the first week of August.  Presenting the following poem for critique.  Hope you enjoy it.

High Rise Thunder

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 24, 2011

Muffled rumbling,

Long and low across the sky,

Resounds.

Sustained drum roll,

Resonant explosive charge

Detonates in the air.

Sepulchral vibrations,

Dampened roars

Linger, echoing into the distance.

Growling barrage

Reverberates, shrouded and soft

As the storm slowly abates.

Hoarse peal of thunder,

Murky and inhibited,

Fades, cloaked in dull clouds.

Restrained whispers,

The stifled booms,

Choked and Distorted,

Remove to the hills

Beyond the soggy,

Sodden landscape.

Tough night

Put this up on my FB page.  It was a tough night with my daughter.

There can never be too many hugs, too many 'I love you's,' too many pats on the back.
There can never be too much hand holding, silent walks, breezes whispering secret messages, colorful sunsets.
There can never be too much togetherness, too much laughter, too much music, too much peace.
There can never be too much you and me, there can never be too much love.

New poem post

So, It's been a busy time around here  Busy enough to be exhausted much of the time.

Here is a little dity that came to me the other night as I was heading off to sleep.

Good Night

By Kimberly L. McClune

June 3, 2011

And let sleep come,
a long nap.
Gorgeous, fulfilling sleep,
refresh my soul
for another daylight journey.

Another new poem

While working this morning, a thunder storm rolled past my area.

 

Here is the result of such powerful inspiration.

 

Thunder from a high rise office building

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 24, 2011

 

Muffled rumbling,

Long and low across the sky,

Resounds.

 

Sustained drum roll,

Resonant explosive charge

Detonates in the air.

 

Sepulchral vibrations,

Dampened roars

Linger, echoing into the distance.

 

Growling barrage

Reverberates, shrouded and soft

As the storm slowly abates.

 

Hoarse peal of thunder,

Murky and inhibited,

Fades, cloaked in dull clouds.

 

Restrained whispers,

The stifled booms,

Choked and Distorted,

 

Remove to the hills

Beyond the somber,

Dampened landscape.

Weather as inspiration

Almost anything can inspire.  I take that back.  Anything can inspire.  After all inspiration is getting ideas from something that you come in contact with, something that makes you think, do, create.

Well, putting my child to bed tonight, we listened to the rain on her skylights.  The following was inspired by that experience, by the sound of the drops, by her trying to settle down to sleep.

Julia’s Rain

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 18, 2011

Trying to sleep

The low lit room was alive

With fresh, soft sound.

Rain tapped

Pita-pat on her window,

Roof,

Skylights.

Listening

Her body became the rain

Her feet, tiny dancing droplets

Her legs, big fat drops,

Splat

Her body, mist clinging to the air

Suspended

Her arms, great sheets of rain

Attacking sideways

Her head,

The sound itself.

Echoing in her ears

Cotton balls

Fairies feet

Drum roll

Fingers tapping

No rhythm

No pattern

Nothing sensible

It filled her completely,

Embodying the rain

Falling purposefully,

At first slowly, softly,

Then fearfully,

A weight.  Averse to landing,

She cuddled closely in the soft blanket.

Feeling the rain push onward

Press down,

Caress her consciousness

Lulling,

Cradling,

Hush.

Taken by the rain,

She slept.

New Spring Poem

Was inspired yesterday morning by the fresh clean air and started to compose this.  I hope you enjoy it and that it brings you to the same place I found myself.

 

New Morning

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 13, 2011

 

Long cool shadows

Stretched across the sleek, glossy lawn.

Speckled sunlight

Illuminates dewdrops

Clinging to bud and blade.

 

Chirp embellished breezes

Whisper through

Newly dressed branches.

 

Crisp, clean and fresh

The air envelopes my arms, my shoulders,

My hair.

 

Pungent with recent rain

The air is full and sweet.

Old, empty billows

Slowly creep toward the horizon.

Clean, blue sky follows,

Brightened by the new sun.

Faerie Dance

O.K. Have been terribly uninspired in last few months.  However, tonight I was struck by the sound of the rain on the windows and skylights in my daughters room.  Images came into my head and words took up the nooks and crannies.  As soon as I got her settled, I came to my computer and penned the following little item. 

I hope you enjoy it and that it brings images to you as well.

Faerie Dance

By Kimberly L. McClune

April 26, 2011

Faeries and pixies dance,

Prancing in a whirling dervish on my roof tiles.

Swirling with their partners,

Their crystalline shoes, tap, tap, tap

Out joy and delight.

The night air is filled with the rollicking

Lilting dance.  Tap, tap, tap

Go the tiny delicate feet

Of the mystical sprites.

Dreamily I lay awake, listening,

Wondering at their celebration.

Imagination soars to distraction.

Visions of shining, almost impossible figures

Swing and sway in fanciful patterns across the pavement.

Up against a window,

In and out of corners and along tree branches

From leaf to leaf,

Flying on the wind, the flashes twirl

Shaking off the cares we clothe ourselves with each day.

Oh to be as unfettered as Heavens cleansing dew.

To unabashedly shed the woes and weights

Of this worldly existence,

To reach the heights of carefree exultation

On spritely feet

Tapping and spinning across the sky.

Loss of a friend, Kirk.

While no poem has come to me yet about this loss, it has shaken me very much.

Interesting emotions have come over me since learning of Kirks passing on Friday afternoon.

 

It has always been interesting to me why we cry when someone else has lost their life.  It seems selfish to cry when I am still here.

Or perhaps I should be jealous that my loved one has been able to leave the trials of this life behind and go to be with their creator. 

As a Christian, I believe that when my spirit leaves this life, I will join my Lord, and stay with Him forever in the life He has made for me

with Him.

 

With this spirituality in my heart, I should be joyful that my dear friend, Kirk, is no longer on earth, suffering through his illness.  His body gave way and his spirit has moved on.  In my belief, he is in a better, peaceful, lovely place where he can rest and exist in a painfree heaven.

 

Despite this spiritual belief, I have still had trouble with tears.  Are they truly selfish, or are they tears of joy that his suffering has ended? 

With all I know of grief, this is one thing I have not come to terms with. 

 

No matter how many tears I cry when someone I care about passes, I have less and less fear of dying myself.  The older I get and the more of life I experience (wanted to say endure) the thought of my own death is not frightening.  Part of this is my faith and part is my desire to be in a better situation.  (No I am not suicidal)

 

So, as I process and come to terms with the fact that I will not see my dear friend on this earth again, I will continue to have tears, enjoy the flood of memories that come and miss him deeply.  Once his body has been laid to rest, I know that my heart will be more at ease, but the loss will be felt each day, as with all the other loved ones that have gone before him. 

 

So, I pray gently to my God that He is holding Kirk closely and guiding him to the rest he so deserves.

There will never be another to come close to the friend that I found in Kirk.

 

For those reading this, always remember the loved ones that have left this earth.  Keep their memories close in whatever way you will.  The pain of loss is less when we keep the light of our loved ones shining in our hearts.

 

God bless you my friends.

 

 

 

 

 

Rejection

Well, it's a good thing I had low expectations of being accepted for publication when I made my very first ever poetry submission to a publisher.  I sent two poems in to Poetry Quarterly, Smoke and Newsreel.
They gave no reason or comment as to why the rejected these two works.  However, I am not feeling down.  I know that I enjoy writing when I get the chance and that others find enjoyment in my word combinations.  This is enough for me.  Publication is a dream that may yet come true if I work hard and keep trying.

Reposting both submitted poems here now.  Hopefully you will find some value in them.

Smoke

Revision November 7, 2010

Kimberly L. McClune

Clinging to the air, fluctuating,

Gradient translucence shifts in silent grace.

Amorphous fog, ethereal silk

Drifts away then subtly coils and spins.

Spinning, wispy

Slithering threads bend and twist,

Swirling into dancing clouds.

Stretched and pinched,

Gossamer pinwheels insinuate

Enigmatic spheres.

Stirred by invisible forces,

Unfocused, aimless,

Free and unfettered existence

Finally dissipates into nothingness.

Newsreel

Kimberly L. McClune

January 12, 2011

Memories are the treasured moments on the newsreel of your heart.

They come image by image, feeling by feeling,

Thought by thought.

Even scents, sights, and sounds bring them back.

Turn on the newsreel.  Hear the clicking of the film.

Watch it, feel it, hear it, and see it.

Cherished memories are the newsreel of your heart.

More poetry

Again, I apologize for the delay in posting.  Pipe burst in basement of new townhome last month and am just getting house back to normal.  Being a claims adjuster in my work life sure does help sometimes.

So Have been inspired to do some writing.  Now need to get to my notes for bunches of other poems and get them finished.  Hope you enjoy these two new ones.

This was written when considering a photo of heavy snowfall on limbs outside my window last spring.

Late Spring Snow

By Kimberly L. McClune

March 7, 2011

The weighted limbs sagged beneath the burden of layer upon layer of frozen crystals.

As they fell, dancing easily to the earth, the crystals had no volume.

When arriving, they joined one to another until their bulk swelled.

Linked together, they formed a weighty mass.

Pressing down, they bent limbs and stems both young and old.

When they melted, at first dripping, then flowing, then rushing, they found their way together, easily dancing again.

This was inspired by the Canadian geese that congregate neara my office about a week or so ago.

Winter Geese

By Kimberly McClune

March 5, 2011

A curious line of Canadian geese, like ants, followed one another to a round dirt patch in the field.

Standing in a loose clump, all stared in unison across the dried brown grass considering their next destination.

After quiet contemplation, a large synchronous group lifted off without warning.

The remainder watched intently as the others winged away toward a nearby pond.

Finally after watching their brethren, the last of the geese lifted off as one.

Winging swiftly, they alighted to the cool water, reuniting.

New Post

Welcome.  I apologize for the long delay in posting.  Have not written much poetry in the last month or more.  Have been busy and not inspired, to be honest.  Had an epiphany tonight and wrote this.  Hope you enjoy it.

 

Last Night

By Kimberly L.McClune

January 10, 2011

 

A sheer veil overlaid the sun and

Softened its brilliance.

 

The Earth's brim, overtaken by a titian haze,

Cut a distinct profile

 

The radiance that adorned the perse, grey nebula

Gently diminished.

 

Hues faded and silhouettes transformed

As the twilight advanced.

 

A murky tint obscured the sun

Its last sliver sinking into dusk.