Krakatoa Poems | Examples

this poem has been written for the lute

or the spoons
but read it accompanied by something
the French horn
the harpsichord
the balalaika at the bus stop
the burping of a favourite uncle
on the runway as passenger planes take off around you
the Saturn V rocket launch was a clanger to the metal munchies
i mean i could go on
but i won't, because going on would be going on
the soul, the guest of the body,
needs nourishment, and calls for a poptart dad;
but i will go on, because this poem, read, as in a reading,
would be good to read out loud, accompanied by or standing alongside
the eruption of Krakatoa

Krakatoa

volcanic blast
krakatoa unleashed hell
pyroclastic mass

obliterated
rampant nature’s destruction 
world of deep darkness

a seismic event
magma nightmare no escape
pure devastation

Shriek

SHRIEK

As Edvard Munsch walked with friends
Across the bridge spanning Oslofjord
His sister’s situation struck a chord
Admitted to the lunatic asylum nearby
He saw the blood red colour of the sky
Nacreous clouds now hovering lower
Perhaps it was a symptom of Krakatoa
That famous volcanic eruption of late
And had an impact on his mental state
A strange overwhelming sense of dread
But inspiration for an impressionist work
A Peruvian mummy was a regular quirk
And featured, as the scream never ends

Some Poems

Some poems’ births explode (full bore), life ends when written down,
their flow makes toothpicks of my pen, brain chokes on truth laid bare,
a flash that flares, a splash of cognac in cook’s pan (taste’s light!)
While others grow more leisurely, gestation delicate,
they lead me through more sylvan glens (where shadows live - a thing)
and beams of light dance as leaves drift until thoughts’ breeze gets spent.

I covet both but give free rein to muse that pays day’s rent
for fear I’ll miss a gift life shares, perchance a golden ring!
I rarely guess a poem’s end; I’m more its advocate
and track my muse the best I can until day’s touched by night!
My heart is this, to offer grace to fancies muse may dare
embrace, hold dear. Lord, I feel blessed to be my muse’s clown.


Krakatoa Kritic #007
December 7, 2022

Three-Kolored Ku - Now 10

Three-Kolored Ku (Now 10)
1. bluebird’s ear’s to ground –
pink collared worm (casts below)
now won’t grace black hook

2. blue days can have clouds,
yellow sun bursts pierce grey clouds -
rainbow’s arc mocks smile?

3. girls pink with envy,
boys made blue by sexist roles -
‘his story’ just black

4. greyed out politics –
blue and red (views, poop) both suspect
in the fog of war

5. red sunsets portend
dawn’s blue skies to those caring –
black thoughts rarely float

6. pumpkin’s orange loves
tomato’s ripened redness – light’s
short, black cat nights stretch

7. fall topples most green,
revealing vibrant colors -
reds, yellows – drab wins

8. poetry’s greenest
when planted fields change color -
red blood fades to black

9. green planet’s seasons,
the ocean’s blue expanses,
the earth’s spine - beached white

10. time’s future’s more dark
man’s ‘black’ and ‘white’ aren’t colors (1)
Grace – red, blood-cured wood?


Krakatoa Kritic #007
October 29, 2022
Poet's Notes:
(1) Black is the absence of light, hence no color at all.
White is a combination of all colors, so no color also.

I'D Be Your Friend

I’d be your friend though you aren’t mine,
don’t ever send me Valentine.
My poems shine with love that’s true
if they don’t share your point of view.
Their gentle waves trace shores of face,
court all your life, not just disgrace.

Each poem’s trace says who I am:
invites JUST judgment. I’d not scam
a thing from you and offer here
experience, truths I hold dear.
May wisdom prize all fear away,
so, in the end, both want to stay.

Is friendship less that’s widely shared?
Exclusive love appeals! You’re scared
of love, [sic] love you don’t control?
GOD’S LOVE FOR YOU can’t save your soul?
Does Love feel safer that you’ve bought?
Is this, friend, road to Camelot?

My poems star in ‘Sacred Space’
God offers me. Does this erase
‘your sacred ground’ in Multi-Verse?
I dream God honors the diverse
and loves all questions. I do, too,
for rainbows’ colors aren’t just blue.


Krakatoa Kritic #007
April 4th in 2022
Poet’s Notes:
A poem inspired by a poem of the same title
(and rhyme scheme) by Long Tooth on this
Poetry Site. Love on Brave Heart.
KK7
PS: Thanks for choosing me!

Popping Out of Pictures

Popping out of pictures, pulling swords from stone,
Hunting with your coon dogs, shipwrecked all alone,
Rafting down the river, whitewashing a fence,
Balloons on Krakatoa, leagues under suspense,

Milo and his watchdog, Charlie’s ticket’s gold,
Meg and Charles go tessering, Lost Boys, never old,
Wizards, dwarves, and hobbits, James’ giant fruit,
Wilbur, Fern, and Charlotte, Belle’s enchanted brute,

Heartbreak with a yearling, a big old yellow dog,
Friends Mole and Rat and Toad, islands, treasure, grog,
Gardens full of secrets, the clever family Swiss:
Glorious great stories, just too good to miss.

Books promote imagination, candy for the mind,
Afternoons spent on the page leave the world behind.
Reading with my grandkids, adventure tales galore,
And when they finish all of these, I know of plenty more.

Pass It On, No Pass-Backs

Pass It On (No Pass-Backs!)

A friendship’s here for you (that’s free), so pass it on (no pass-backs),
where walls can fall (constricting heart). So pass it on (no pass-backs).
My arms? (The warmth of poetry! So pass it on (no pass-backs),
that would not mock, support your art!) So pass it on (no pass-backs).

Toe my debris that borders soul, so pass it on (no pass-backs),
aspiring beach with sand that greets! So pass it on (no pass-backs).
Tsunamis’ action (distant goal?), so pass it on (no pass-backs),
here filtered! Rhythmic waves are treats! So pass it on (no pass-backs).

Truth’s yoke’s a gentle one at best, so pass it on (no pass-backs),
joy shared (and pain) the least can taste, so pass it on (no pass-backs),
that aids Life’s quest for better rest! So pass it on (no pass-backs).
What rhymes can’t own, more waste! So Pass It On (No Pass-Backs!)


Krakatoa Kritic #007
February 27th of 2022
Poet’s Note:
A child’s attempt to avoid something undesirable turned on its head.

Life Alone In One Skin

Life Alone in One Skin?

It’s a struggle for some, life alone in one skin,
(that confuses the best!) What’s it mean then to win
if a victory’s rote, like a verse memorized
with an audience pared down (to one authorized)?
To give ‘Clap’ to oneself rings of social disease.
Can the right warm left hand of life swinging in trees
or a rhyme sound as sweet that lacks musical heat?

Hear my song of four eyes, two that watch while I drink.
Two that work while I’m ill, that show grace when I think!
Two that flow with life’s seasons, resisting pain’s plight!
Who can blame me (my hope is, I sweeten their night)?
So as rhyme that might miss (as a chord less than true),
may love find, in God’s will, love less distant from you.
And life’s chocolate, flavored (at best) bittersweet!


Krakatoa Kritic #007
February 14, 2022

To Friends No Longer On This Plane

May my blessings all reach you if Spirit has home,
has an address (like I do, location). Let gift
of this poem be present that pleasures your soul.
Know I certainly cherished your kinship, felt rhyme,
cling to pretense (perhaps) a connection remains,
like a cloud in the distance (in drought) sprouts dim dream
of a future reunion of wheat growing tall
and the smell of bread baking, of famine with food.

Though friend’s memories whisper, flesh absence feels rude,
in a season change colder than winter or fall.
May the warmth of burned poems, of prose flow (upstream?)
to some mountainous stronghold (perchance on the plains?)
find connection somehow to Time’s Author sublime.
Let least dream of ‘God’s pleasure’ be purpose, not goal
of each second of life. May what’s TRUE not spell rift
as muse moves to its stage, qu*er eternal word’s ‘Om!’


Krakatoa Kritic #007
July 16th of 2021

Silent One Poem Comment

Unattributable Praise

In your silence, there’s expression in the ripples of your verse,
and veiled comments cast chagrin (or light) across words/rhymes diverse.
You aren’t here to trim our sails with ink or taunt us from blank page.
It’s one reason why fish like your bait. The spice you add is sage. (1)

You think death’s a net that’s cast for us! Has Nothing chance to win?
Say death’s door! Can one egress from life, or does life pull us in?
Mock your silence, a fool’s freedom from real friendship! That saves face?
Let us hear muse! Sing it bravely! Mock fear’s death dance! Live God’s Grace!


Krakatoa Kritic #007
April 27, 2021
A poetic commentary on a poem called "Dancing With Death" by the 'Silent One' on PoetrySoup.com.
1. Sage is a spice known for its ability to enhance the flavor of what is already present without imparting its own unique flavor.

Muse Offering

look in most mirrors -
the reflection is backward
and you dream of truth?


Krakatoa Kritic #007
April 25, 2021
Is it vanity to think we understand our own thoughts?

Channeled Perspectives

I'm channeled rhymes, perspectives of young poet late in life!
Evolving too, I hope to please, share reveries a wife
(Scheherazade) shows to her spouse (loved patrons, here confessed),
who fears both too, for wives do fail, find heads divorce their chest.

Attention found here couched in verse, two stanzas, four lines each,
all meant to praise, if questions raised, still purposed not to preach.
I hope to show some verse you share - reception won: song heard!
My warbled tweets tout gold I get

(signed)
brown, ear-catching bird.


Krakatoa Kritic #007
12/06/20

Dean Wood Poem Comment

Life’s Fading Rodeo?

While I’m glad of your retirement from less fruitful goals you’ve chased,
still, the big sky’s grown some smaller by concerns (and verse displaced?).
Hope your boots still kick up dust on trails, your eyes track Sun that sets
from cliff’s crow’s nest perch that welcomes sails blown home by dawn’s regrets.

The sharp humor missed in turns of phrase, the edge of light you shine,
a fun Valentine the postman lost, days’ questioned cork of Vine-
tage wine. Break your fast if possible, release brain’s stored up fat.
May new poetry’s loops lasso bum steers! Cheers! I ‘tip my hat!’


Krakatoa Kritic #007

I’ve got a thing for Cowboy Life frankly, and the men that lived this difficult life for so many years of American History. Dean’s last poem on Poetry Soup was in November of 2019 and I hope this collective ‘10’ for his work pulls him out of Poetry retirement at least! That would make this a poem worth its ink!

See “Retirement” by Dean Wood on PoetrySoup.com

Cowboy Ron Williams Poem Comment

My boyfriend calls me 'potty mouth' 
'cause I can go on so. 
But loves me still, as hope you will 
know 'bird' that fields no cage 
for man or mouse. 

An immigrant, I love the South 
though hurricanes do blow. 
I'd share your range if that's not strange, 
and trust you'll act your age! 
Sun maid, not spouse! 

Krakatoa Kritic #007 

A fun poem. I'd say most women appreciate a flexible man, I know I do! A personal ten from me! Who knows what's true! But you're my first 10 on PH! Ha!

See “I Love You Still” by Cowboy Ron Williams on PoemHunter.com!

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