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Please note: All of the work found on this website are the sole property of "Kristy" under copyright law. Reproduction of any work without my consent is punishable by law. If you would like permission to publish any work on this website, please
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Kristy's Writing
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My Poetry
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Welcome to my world. I have created this site to publish my work. I consider myself a writer, an artist, a dreamer, and a teacher. Keep in mind everything is still in process since I am constantly rewriting to improve myself. I would appreciate any comments or feedback you may have. Enjoy!
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Like Hamlet? click typewriter for my short story
"My Grandfather's Ears"
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Untitled
The fog
surrounds
the lone person
standing in the sand
as streetlights
and headlights
push through the low
clouds
while the sun
sleeps in the ocean
and everything is blue
including
the individual
who has dived
into the ocean
to find the sun
and run from the moon.
October 26, 2000
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My Daughter (a sonnet)
A smile warmer than a candlelight bath,
eyes brighter than newly fallen snow,
musical water ripples from her laugh,
and she smells of vanilla and playdoh.
With a spirit of spring, the colors of fall,
the triumph of splashing in the rain,
she summons dreams from my past, an empty hall,
a silent voice suppressing pain.
Defenseless wealth, a safe embrace,
but corruption lingers near her;
truth, and hope, and love, and grace,
yet a fragment of me, time’s mirror.
Her almond eyes, a tormenting potion,
a shattered window, still left unspoken.
January 21, 1999
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My Background: I have a Bachelor's [strange masculine word choice] degree in English and Secondary Education. I am currently working in the U.S. as a high school English teacher. Writing is my passion; however, sometimes I do not feel strong enough to go public yet. Someday I will try to publish my writing, but for now I am satisfied showing my work on my own website.
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Season’s Anticipation
Winter’s curse still blows its wind
where Shiva destroyed the green.
But the twinkle of the snow has left
and death’s brown reigns supreme.
Beneath the brown lies the belief
the world will somehow get better.
Like people, nature always assumes
that seasons change forever.
But when do seasons change their wind?
How do colors break through?
Outside still looks bleak to me
with blank skies drained of blue.
Barren trees cry with defeat
for shame of unsightly stature.
The inert soil cracks impatiently
waiting for light’s enrapture.
March 2000
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The Quiet Quilter
The canvas of time, not bought or hand-dyed,
nor starting with white
but shades of a medium occupied;
inspired by light.
Not carved with a silver rotary cutter
-traditional sight-
but free form segments shaped by each other
pieced slowly at night.
According to plans mapped out in the mind
of a texture lover,
consumed with making a pattern designed
of arranged clutter.
Black backing, bright spheres, and stars appliqued-
threads and life combine.
Soil, green leaves, and animal parades
artfully align.
The fragments form tangible harmony
in a soft cascade,
and chaos becomes continuity
in the quilter’s trade.
The warm woven sea is then opened wide
for humanity,
while the quiet Maker steps aside
to let beauty be.
February 1999
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Alcoholism
Alcoholism
drifts silently
like snow piling up at night
on your lawn.
No one wants to deal with it,
just temporarily shovel a path
and move on with each day.
But someday it has to melt,
and we are left
with the barren ground
beneath the silent layers
of white.
And while we try to till
the soil and create
new life, we still look
to the sky for signs
of stray flakes.
November 11, 2000
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Links to other sites:
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Passions in Poetry Poems for the people, by the people. Discover the wonder of self-expression through word and thought and mood.
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click the pen for more poems
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Thank you for visiting my website and taking the time to read my work. Please come again soon as I will continue to add more writing. Last update: 07/03
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