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K.R. Wonder Poem
For every tear you cry
A baby smiles for the first time
Someone in this world dies
Someone tells a lie
Dreams are frozen in time
Someone confesses to a crime
For every tear you cry
Someone learns how to fly
Another one falls from the sky
Innocence is killed by Pride
Someone loses his rights
A clock begins to chime
For every tear you cry
A star glows more bright
While another one loses its light
Two break out into a fight
A scream is heard in the night
Someone finds their might
For every tear you cry
Someone brings back a life
Someone is filled with fright
A fool is tricked by Sly
Someone tries to hide
Someone wins a prize
For every tear you cry
Someone commits suicide
A blind man gains back his sight
Someone’s drugged up high
Someone determined continues to try
Two cars collide
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2018
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K.R. Wonder Poem
During a midnight snowfall
You hear nothing
Unlike the pitter patter
When it is raining.
During a midnight snowfall
It can't knock you down
Unlike the merciless wind
That throws you to the ground.
During a midnight snowfall
It is quiet enough for slumber
Unlike the rumble rumble
When there is thunder.
During a midnight snowfall
It is peaceful
Unlike the ripping-crashing
Of a tornado.
During a midnight snowfall
There's a happy ending
Unlike the heartbreaking damage
Brought by a hurricane.
During a midnight snowfall
There are no violent winds causing ice burns
Unlike its reckless brother
The frostbiting blizzard
It may be freezing
You may not like the weather
But wouldn't you prefer a midnight snowfall
Over other natural disasters?
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2018
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K.R. Wonder Poem
Secrets could be the reason for my insanity,
Such bloody burdens deserving of such profanity,
They may hurt me, anger me, or cause me turmoil,
But never mind how high the price, I will never unravel.
Under the rose they will remain for all eternity,
Behind closed doors forever in my safe keep,
Protected and guarded with a cloak and dagger,
Tame your inquiring mind for curiosity’s a killer.
No one likes intruders invading the mysteries in their heads,
If I uproot my precious roses, two may keep if one's dead,
Truth is everyone’s got a hush-hush kept inside their minds,
Whether it's to hide a little lamb or conceal some underhanded crime.
So don't ask me again 'cause now you know how I feel,
A secret’s best a secret if it’s never revealed.
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2018
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K.R. Wonder Poem
I don’t look black; I don’t look white;
ain’t that strange how DNA lies?
I am a mixed woman raised by two families;
two different worlds with two different realities.
Like tug-o-war, I’m the rope in the middle
and my arms are hurting, everybody please let go.
To the sidelines, I linger, and watch the chaos unfold.
Where do I stand in this endless battle?
I want to help; I want racism to end too.
Black lives matter, that couldn’t be more true,
and while I may not face the same level of racism as my brothers,
it hurts me, too.
But I don’t want to protest;
I don’t want more violence;
I don’t want another bloody civil war to be our history.
I can’t watch family die—not on either side,
but with the way things are now,
everyone is getting hurt around me.
I will always fight for all the black lives
for it’s in my blood and it’s part of my identity.
But half is still half; it’s not all who I am;
I cannot be divided in these hateful times.
Why can’t I be seen for who I am?
Black lives matter—what about mine?
How can I fit in with all of this campaigning
when I don’t even have a true identity?
This generation has created more diversity
yet it’s still all black and white on legalities.
I want my children to feel like they fit in
and not ever have to worry if this country even acknowledges them.
We represent the new America;
I must fight for what this country could become:
A harmonious blend of privilege and color;
One community with shared comforts.
I want equality among all diversity;
I want all of us to feel like a valued part of society.
So whether you’re black, native, or biracial,
mixed with white, Asian, or Latino,
as people of color, we must stand together.
We fight for the same cause;
let’s not be white-washed;
and be seen and told that our lives matter.
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2020
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K.R. Wonder Poem
“Am I just another dog wasting away in a shelter?
Am I just another horse sinking in the mud of a filthy pasture?
Am I just another cheetah about to be shot for fashionable attire?”
I bet you’re thinking: they’re just animals, they don’t think or question, no matter how tortured the soul.
What would they know?
Well,
They do know Hate; he gives all the beatings.
And they do know Grief; she destroys families.
And they’ve met Fear; on a routine basis he brings terror.
And they’re acquainted with Love through heavy smoke and mirrors.
But what they don’t know
Is if you care enough to help them.
Can you look into their brooding eyes and tell me, do you care?
Or
Are they all just animals?
Are they all just pests?
Are they all just burthens
Taking up air in the life we live
Taking up air in the life we live?
The wide-eyed pup in the shelter,
The limping cheetah in the plains,
The bull in the stadium and the Pit in the ring,
They wonder:
“Was it me? Am I not enough? Did I do something wrong?
Why did you fire that gun? Who will feed my small cubs?
Is my existence just a game? Why must you play me till I drop dead?
I have just learned to stand, why must my life come to an end?”
And they cry and they scream; get back up and they think:
“I will stand by your side no matter how many times you kick me aside.
I’ve been shot but I’ll get up. I must be strong; defend my young.
Another game, another fight. Just for you, I’ll risk my life.
When my eyes first opened up, you were there - it’s you I trust.”
And they’re so damn naive. Damn their trust and loyalty.
But hey,
They’re all just animals.
They’re all just pests.
They’re all just burthens
Taking up air in the life we live
Taking up air in the life we live.
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2018
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K.R. Wonder Poem
She stood out by the water,
Her toes in the sand,
Staring out at the moonglade
With a bottle in her hand.
And inside that corked glass
Written on a torn page,
“If you find this message,
Then you are too late.”
Some people don’t mind the thunder
That collides with the crashing waves;
Some people like the rainfall
That cascades down their face.
And for her, the ocean’s solace
Gave her enough strength
To step out into the water
And be carried away.
And to this day, the wind carries her cries;
At least that’s what they say,
And her message in a bottle
Is floating in oceans miles away.
She stood out by the water,
Staring out at the moonglade.
She set the bottle in the water
And watched it float away.
And with that hesitation,
There was a chance to deter;
Though she believed this moment
Was written in the stars.
Some people don’t feel the earthquake
That ravages solid ground.
Some people embrace the fire
That burns safe and sound.
And for her, the ocean’s solace
Was her saving grace
And she went out into the water
To be carried away.
And to this day, the wind carries her cries;
At least that’s what they say,
And her message in a bottle
Is floating in oceans miles away.
And if someone had tried to stop her,
She might have given him the chance.
But her prayers went unanswered,
And she followed through with her plan.
A message in a bottle
Drifting out to sea
A chance to be heard
When no one’s listening.
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2018
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K.R. Wonder Poem
We were lost in the mountains
blinded by the snow
frostbitten to our very core
weak and forlorn
Lost
like a spark in a burning flame
or a pebble in the mountain
just a small piece of a greater formation
We wander through the frost
searching for home
trying to remember
which way to go
Then the sky cries
in beautiful colors
as meteors fly across the starry night
and the northern lights trail down
from the moon to the cliffs high above
our heads as we stare in awe
Majestic purple scales
like the Milky Way
with ice blue horns
and powerful, feathered wings
that shimmered in gold trim
stood a dragon spirit
She smiled down at our bewildered crew
then roared at the sky above
and flapped her massive wings
The snowstorm blew aside
as if nothing more than a speck of dust
a warmth surrounded us
while a trail illuminated down
the mountainside
leading the way
to home
We bow to the dragon
in grace and appreciation
and follow the path to our village
rejoicing when we arrive safely
and kissing our lovers sweetly
And high above us the wind chilled
and the star showers subsided
while the northern lights flickered away
calling back the mighty dragon
and away she went
the spirit of the mountains
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2022
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K.R. Wonder Poem
When she was six years old,
she tried to make her hair look like
how a friend’s did in school
but her coils wouldn’t kink anymore.
Her mama caught her
and asked her what she was doing.
She said: “Making my hair pretty.”
Her mama said;
“Pretty is fair skin; stay out of the sun.
It’s straight hair; turn that iron back on.
A straighter nose and thin lips;
know you’ll never measure up,
but you can at least look good enough.”
Years fly and at a family reunion;
a teenager now and she invited girlfriends
to fool around and cause mischief.
They played with each other’s hair,
pierced their ears, applied liner,
and wondered if the boys at school
thought about them, too.
Annoyed with their antics,
her auntie pulled her aside to scold:
“Pretty is quiet, sit down and shut up.
It’s dainty, cross your legs and sit tall.
A thin frame and all the right curves;
well you can’t fix all you’ve got,
but you can at least look good enough.”
Today, her wedding day,
she applied a small amount of makeup,
washed her hair and let it go,
put on a short, strapless dress
just because her mama said “no.”
She told herself:
“Pretty is my skin
and I wanna soak in the sun.
It’s my hair; let it curl all it wants.
It’s me, myself, and I
—I am more than good enough.
Black is pretty
and that’s something to be proud of.
“I am beautiful
and that’s something to be proud of.”
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2020
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K.R. Wonder Poem
Is this my death sentence?
Will it be the end of my time?
Do I get a chance at redemption?
Am I even prepared to die?
Who decides we are too young to die
Or too old to worry?
Some people fear when it’ll happen;
Some people fear how they’ll go;
Some people fear the concept;
Some people fear the unknown.
Will this be my life story?
Why must it end so soon?
Are all those dreams I had just “dreams” now?
Will any of my wishes come true?
My life was turning around for the better;
I was starting to feel less blue.
Now everything I love is on hold
Until I get the answers I need.
Everything I dream of achieving
Is drifting further out of reach.
I’m not afraid to take my final breath
But what will happen when it comes to that?
How many years do I have left?
How can I make every moment last?
And maybe this all
Is enough to have me frightened
And running for the door.
Maybe it’s enough to leave me crying
And praying for a little more time.
But I am not easily broken –
And I will not let this waste my life.
You’ll never see proof I’ve been crying;
Let me show you how a fighter thrives.
Even if I don’t survive this,
I’m going to have a hell of a good time.
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2019
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K.R. Wonder Poem
The pursuit of happiness
is the American Dream
but how can I be happy
if I ain’t spending?
What kind of world
have we all come to live in
where happiness is sold at
filthy auctions?
Add it to my cart online
and hope I’ve earned free shipping.
Go to college,
get a job,
make something of yourself.
I did exactly as the teachers said
and still feel so unfulfilled.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Not still stuck inside my parents’ house.
When you’re brought up in poverty
it’s really hard to rise;
you gotta shoot for the sky
and everyone will try to shoot you down
cause they’re after the same prize
What’s the prize?
A moment of fame,
a few hundred bucks,
debt paid off,
beggars can’t be choosers, right?
What would you do for a million dollars?
Well, I kind of have a moral strife:
I work fifty hour weeks
rack in the overtime,
don’t get paid enough to survive,
“take a mental health day,”
I ain’t got the time.
Wonder if I’d be better off
if I just rob ‘em blind!
“What are you complaining for?
You’ve got the dream job that you wanted,
aren’t you happy now?”
“I guess it really wasn’t what I wanted,
was it, now?”
Drowning in all kinds of loans
wasn’t exactly where I saw myself;
chasing a fantasy
led me to a great depression;
you want to talk mental health?
I don’t sleep, I overeat,
I work and work and work and work,
pour all my emotions down the drain,
and act like I’m perfectly okay
because I’ve achieved happiness
according to the American Dream.
So why am I not happy?
Why are we not happy?
Why do we riot and rage,
shoot our children,
starve our people,
and wave an unachievable dream
in the faces of the future generations
so we can watch them struggle,
and burn,
and fall apart at the seams
all while they pretend to be happy?
Copyright © K.R. Wonder | Year Posted 2022
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