My Inner Vision

My Inner Vision

My inner vision strains to see
what all along was to be me.
The days of my life are moving past
headed for what will be my last.
Remaining in my soulish core,
there is the need for something more.
Beyond my tunneled scope of sight,
within the dark, I seek a light.
But how do I catch hold, acquire
from deep within the muck and mire
that precious golden, narrow thread
from something written, something said
that dwells hidden in my mind
but somehow memory’s left behind?
Fanciful some wise man would say
to want to know, to find a way
to bring forth an eternal phrase
that will emerge to define my days
the person who was truly me
before this earth my soul does leave.
Alas, I seem to fall short and fail
to see beyond the tattered veil
that blinds my weakened inner eye.
I fear I’m not me anymore
but someone I’ve grown to abhor.

2009 By Karen Marie Crump

My Kingdom Come

My Kingdom Come

In a magical kingdom, a place of my own,

I would be queen on a lavender laced throne.

Brave knights would approach me each betrothing his love.

White doves would descend from blue heaven above.

My beauty and kindness and my merciful hand

would be known by the people all over the land.

Bound by a banner of righteousness and grace,

I would rule fairly for each man and each place.

Everyone would be working at tasks in the day,

each able man and his neighbor earning his way.

Then in the evening, when the sun set at last;

each family would gather to share a repast.

Charitable giving, not forced nor decreed

would care for the feeble and those truly in need.

No one would go hungry nor lack comfort or rest.

There would be no one thinking, “I’m better or best.”

Puppies and kittens and little children would play

on grassy hills and playgrounds on every fair day.

No concern would abound for these tender ones’ care.

To harm one of these innocents, no one would dare.

Lovely ladies would dance with their gentlemen beaus

beaming and smiling, in their hair a red rose.

Lasting love would bloom gently in each couples’ hearts,

forming a bond and a promise never to part.

Oh, my magical kingdom, where I would be queen,

is not of this planet having never been seen.

But eyes that look gently from heaven’s door,

share in my vision of kingdom life evermore.

Copyright ©  October 25, 2009 by Karen M. Crump

Skeptical Notions and Ridiculous Labels

Skeptical Notions and Ridiculous Labels

I turn up my lip and give my best snarl,

a low growl in my throat escapes

as I observe the tide that’s rising

in the ridiculous and absurd.

I’m old and cranky, but I’m not blind.

I can see the world colliding

with its inevitable fate.

Not believing in it – fate that is;

it’s more the physical reality

of action- reaction-result

or whatever the scientific blurb.

Hick from the sticks, without a brain;

the coastal cliques would declare.

Gun toting momma without a clue,

but I’ll bet I can outdraw them.

and out think them, too.

I’m clutching my Bible

and standing on truth.

Let ‘em stick me with whatever

label they choose.

I’ll give ‘em the Elvis lip

and flip the bird, too.

By Karen Marie Crump

Your Choice - Dog or Cat

Your Choice - Dog or Cat

Give a dog a bone,

and he’ll protect your home.

Give a cat a mouse,

and she will rule your house.

A dog will eat the scraps.

A cat wants what’s underwraps.

Dogs think you’re number one.

Cats know whose life they run.

A cat will groom herself,

then knock things from the shelf.

A dog will wag and shake

and cause things to break.

A cat will close her eyes,

while on you she spies.

A dog will beg and drool,

as he acts a total fool.

A cat will start to holler

if you put on her a collar.

A dog whose on a chain,

will always yours remain.

A dog will run in circles

and not pay it any mind.

A cat will proudly walk

and show you her behind.

Now, think a little while

who makes the biggest pile

for your handy “Poopa-Scoop”

and who has you jumpin’ hoops?

Copyright  © November 17, 2008 by Karen M. Crump

The Rose Cried

The Rose Cried

The single rose cried all alone
and sought for someone who would come
to brave the pricks and pain
that kept away the soft and gentle hands
which could caress its blooms…
If not for the thorns.

The thorns -they stand in the way
of gentle touch and tender kiss
and precious things so true.
Let someone brave the prick and the poke,
and give the rose new hope…
Despite all its thorns.

Is there love enough in you
to brave the thorns and come close by,
to touch the bloom in me
despite all the thorns that make you bleed
and cause you pain so deep?
Please come risk the thorns.

Response Poem by Jeremy "Jazz" Caffey

Untitled

I heard the cry of a rose,

and I went to see.

The rose was love.

It seemed beautiful to me.

I risked the thorns;

the rose I caressed.

I suffered the thorns;

my hands a bloody mess.

I held onto love;

it’s worth the pain.

The rose was torn from me

while it’s scent still remains.

My hands are torn and bloody;

and, now the tears, they start.

These wounds, they do not heal.

These wounds are in my heart.

This rose, it has withered,

Petals lying on the floor.

But should these thorns bloom again,

I’ll reach for love one more.

By Jazz Caffey 9/19/2001

 

Beyond the Dusk

Beyond the Dusk

Cacophonous thoughts contort my mind
transferring tremors throughout my spine
like Artic wind on a stormy day
blowing all pretense of warmth away.

Resonating blasts within my soul
tear at my heart and take their toll.
Reflections of an old love that died,
vapid images of tears I cried.

”What is done is done,” or so they say;
I cannot retreat to yesterday.
To survive, I must be moving on
beyond the dusk - there is a dawn.

2006 by Karen M. Crump