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Kate Sparks Poem
Silence
Kate Sparks
2/19/26
The future loosened
from its moorings.
Rooms still hold
his echo.
Rhythms tapped on tabletops.
Sticks turning restless
between long fingers.
Music arriving
without response
The silence widened
where laughter once leaned
toward tomorrow.
Chairs unfilled.
Names seldom spoken.
A drum line
broken.
Rhythm;
once moving
between them
now
silent
No longer called
by the living voice
of “Mother.”
Never summoned
into “Grandmother.”
memories;
dreams,
Silence…
Birthdays drifting;
Silently
unclaimed.
Faded photographs
left
too long in the sun.
Even so,
she remains
what love has made her.
Mother;
un-spoken,
un-answered,
un-mirrored
And beneath
the long passage
of time,
a simple question:
How does a heart grieve
What still lives so vividly?
Copyright © Kate Sparks | Year Posted 2026
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Kate Sparks Poem
St. Maries de la Mer
Kate Sparks
April 9, 2026
Edited April 23, 2026
I walk the stone arc?of sacred remembrance.
At ancient Ra,?where salt marsh meets sea,?pilgrims remember?what the tide has known—?a boat without oars,?once found this safe harbor.?For forty days?and forty endless nights?we drifted unmoored.?Terns stitched the horizon,?sea to sky to shore.
Souls without anchor?wade into cold water,?strong hands guiding younger?to deeper currents,?their bodies tender,?their spirits trembling.?Sanderlings on the shore?scratch out a memory,?run, retreat,?enter again.
Waves that once pulled me under?now gentle at my feet.
Here I stand,
witness to a deeper awakening.
Copyright © Kate Sparks | Year Posted 2026
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Kate Sparks Poem
Kate sparks
April 9, 2026
Call me Cassandra—
I said I hear a rumble in the mountain— the beast awakens
The mockingbirds kept singing
the street sweeper kept sweeping
villagers drink coffee from bright tin cups
I said it again, and again a little more loudly,
The Beast Awakens
The dragon
is
Speaking…
Gossipers pass on their secrets while sipping black tea
Villagers start watching the mountain
blackbirds singing on bare branches
mothers keeping their children close
In the heart of the mountain, a quickening pulse
a warning rumble
Villagers complain of the heat
watching the mountain
The dragon
is
singing
Villagers drinking whiskey behind closed doors…
mothers holding restless children
Birds stop chattering
The dragon
is
screaming
Copyright © Kate Sparks | Year Posted 2026
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Kate Sparks Poem
Visitors
Frantic bass shakes the farmhouse windows.
The red pop-top screeches into the driveway,
its driver pounding on the horn.
Two men in the back, shoulders moving to the beat.
The three vaulting in sync
over the doors
onto the pavement
sauntering up to the house, through the garage,
pulling open the studio door,
pressing into the dining room.
a breeze drifting through the open window
three figures freeze in place
fingers skimming beneath the jaw
chins quiver
ears resisting the tug of fingers
blinking eyes
fix into stillness
masks dropped onto the light cherry-wood table
under the flesh, a flickering translucence
bodies already thinning at the shoulders
the three turn toward the open door
raised fists closed in one last salute
the red pop-top backs out of the driveway
masks left discarded
on the dining room table
eyes unmoving
lips flutter
Copyright © Kate Sparks | Year Posted 2026
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