The Secret

The secret is that

every poem tells a secret

And the poet hopes 

by revealing it

someone will recognize 

the hard love it took to write

Because secrets are

more comfortable if they’re 

tucked away.

They like hiding in dark

basement corners behind

boxes and whispers

Under stair steps

guarded by cobwebs

and silverfish

They’re favorite sound

is “shhhhhhhhhhhh”

They sabotage a writer’s

fingers; make them struggle

to form basic letters.

Distract the brain with

alluring outside sounds,

annoying earworms or

the last of the shortcake

waiting in the frig.

I understand if you

struggle to write

poetry.

Secrets don’t like

being naked in

honest, exposing light.

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt

NaPoWriMo 2020

April 26, 2020

Orchid Twilight

It’s orchid in the twilight orchard

from a certain angle, an angel

on a sunbeam curtain

might wander in, as you wonder

at the presence of the holy

glow nature presents

in its waning—

A sole soul benediction

from the setting sun.

 

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt

NaPoWriMo 2020

April 11, 2020

Four Emotions Personified

Doubt stares at me like he has

swallowed a swarm of stink bugs

Eyes scrunched; eyebrows raised.

Shaking his bald head rapidly.

Light reflecting off the top as it

moves from right to left and back again.

Tongue clicking at metronome intervals,

his fingers tap rhythmlessly on his thighs.

I don’t know what to do.

 

Sarcasm sprouts Muppet Beaker hair

and looks at me with inebriated eyes.

His acned face devoid of any healthy color.

There is a reason his name means

sharp witt. He looks like he wants

to cut me down or watch me die.

As he stretches his neck, ostrich-like,

I catch my breath to prepare

to defend my honor

 

Anxiety changes her outfit

every three minutes.

Her room is windswept with

discarded clothes and banished bobbles.

She shakes her hands like maracas

when they’re not in other use.

Her voice scales from a cow-like moo

to a pig squeal like a gestapo siren.

I shut my eyes and cover my ears.

 

Confidence smiles like a Vogue model

at a downtown Paris fashion show—

but with the warmth of your grandma—

and talks in a pleasing, clear precise voice.

She walks with the energy and the life of

a valedictorian crossing the graduation stage.

Her lipstick never smears or wears off.

She puts me at ease just by being.

I want to be her best friend.

 

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt

NaPoWriMo 2020

NaPoWriMo 4/15/2020

 

Benefaction

Can anyone ever comprehend 

the benefaction of the blue flower

growing In a summer garden

An exclamation to the customary

Surprising to the human eye—

unable to grasp the simple magnitude 

of its magical beauty—

Blown perhaps from Shangri-La . . . 

A remnant of bygone Babylon . . .

Or dropped by a Tír na nÓg Fairy . . .

A reminder of its perennial promise

of ultimate joy and immortality

It gives the heart its hope

not found in the reds and pinks

And the soul has reason to rejoice,

“Here I have found the truth of my desire.”

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt

NaPoWriMo 2020

April 11, 2020

Taffeta Midnight

Midnight marched in wearing a taffeta ball gown last Saturday.

While streetlights poured psychedelic colors onto

The cement sidewalks throughout the city,

white pines and hawthorne bushes sparkled with dewy mist.

A distinct scent of vanilla and lilacs teased the late breeze.

All the townsfolk drank dessert wine with melted chocolate

while singing “Stairway to Heaven” in perfect-pitch harmony,

then snuggled into their fluffy cashmere wraps

and breathed the stars from behind the clouds.

The Mertz couple on Filmore Road

drank beer instead from tumblers.

(Such a high-class neighborhood.

No one suffered synesthesia

Crossing their fingers made them immune.)

With a sheep’s eye and a licorice tooth

the Cosmos sisters of companionship

Filled the crowded streets with emptiness.

I greeted them without make up

Mrs.— she’s so fickle and predictable,

She’ll have something to say about it all.

Even a bawdy pixie in a red pointed cap

Can ramble and still stay hom

Shadows of Change—A Found Poem

Shadow of Change

The landscape spoke

roaring hollowly—

fickle

bare and sere—

twisting around the world.

Everything has changed.

Shutters closed past night

as if everybody died— 

awfully.

(Found poem fromAnne’s House if Dreams by Lucy Maud Montgomery)

Kathleen A. Dorholt 

NaPiWriMo 2020

April 3

Candlelight

Wandering candlelight trembles

in the rhythmic evening breeze

and melts with the fire 

that touches it

in long slow licks

as the silent summer night

burns with a whispered wish

for uncharted romance 

and simple surrender.

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt

NaPoWriMo 2019

April 24, 2019

Lady Swan

The sleepy shore

gently whispers a

silent question to

the lady swan

seeking stolen peace

in the cove spun

with radiant spring sun.

She floats in

a smile of surrender.

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt

NaPoWriMo 2019

April 23, 2019

Morning

As I wake to

a fresh new morning

the rosebud quietly opens

in the melody of

the same spreading sun

devoted to warming

both our faces.

 

Kathleen A. Dorholt 

NaPoWriMo 2019

April 17, 2019