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Kathleen Kroll Poem
The lowly turnip
Earthy, fleshy
Roots falling from its eyes
Fed to livestock
One of God’s root crops
Yet deemed untasty
By most palates
Carrots and potatoes
Receive accolades
Carrots in orange party dress
So crunchy and sweet
Fit in the school child’s lunch box
Potatoes in russet brown
Mashed, fried and frittered
Prized alongside McDonalds and Kentucky Fried
Do not despair, my friend,
Not all root crops
Are valued similarly
Said the rutabaga disparagingly
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
Peace slips lightly
Over my shoulders
Downy in its softness
Its netting of gossamer
Floats downward
As a willow's branches
Might brush fate
And touch the unknown
I stand with beauty
I hug airiness
Fire in distant trees
Burnished red and gold
Drop their leaves
One by one by one
Spaces fill knowingly
Like a precise jigsaw
Designed by eternity
Its pieces culled from heaven
To create nature's quilt
Trembling, I embrace the birthing
I am one with change
A cacaphony of sounds -
Caw Caw Caw
Raucous, disturbing, quickening
Tear my thoughts like glass shards
Skyrocketing colors
Shake my newfound presence
I am reminded that
Equanimity's gift is fleeting
As a cardinal's trill
Or the flash of a jay's blueness
I yield to what is
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
Once upon a time
My lady called
I stood mesmerized
At ocean’s cusp
Glinting, glimmering, gleaming
Thousands of sparklers
Dot her sequined dress
Shouting
Look at me!
Look at me!
Breathless ripples strew pebbles at shores edge
Cormorants perch on hips of slate
Eyes of diamond reflect starry nets
Starfish mouth warm honeycombs of tide pools
Waves of breast, milky white, feed the minions
Feet of clay glue her honeyed presence
Roaring, rumbling, ripping
Like the sea serpents
Who call her waters home
She crashes
Into shore’s stationary sentinels
Whose feet she laps unceasingly
Capricious as she is
This lady is not fickle
The meditative state
Which hypnotized and paralyzed
Is there
For your embrace
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2017
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
Unearthing the heart’s emotions
Is a dangerous task
Down through the layers
I tunnel
Driven by sadness
Driven by madness
Am I ready to accept
What lies hidden
Like mushrooms springing
From the musty, sodden earth
Deep wounds lie festering
In layers of scar tissue
Bathed in dark denial
And washed white by delusion
Inside I spy
Various gems and stones
I linger with a chosen few
Those I polish and return
Others beg me to stay awhile
But it is no use
The pain of a second glance
Spurs me forward
Occasionally, I glimpse a rose
Mixed with the discards
I pause and inhale its fragrance
Praying it will remain
Later I return
Searching
Was it there?
Was it really me?
Too late it’s gone
But the sense
That I glimpsed it once
Gives renewed hope.
Tomorrow I will
Better sort the
Treasure from the trash.
Third or fourth version
Oct 2011 KDK
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
It's a beautiful day
For waving leaves to fall
A day for watching
Raindrops drop
It's a beautiful day
For apples to blush red
A day for plumping
Pumpkins, large and orange
It's a beautiful day
For tracking gray squirrels
A day for bushy tails
And mouths carrying omens
It's a beautiful day
For lifting thanks
A day for sensing love's
Quiet mantle settle
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2017
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
revelation of revelations!
an ordinary morning til..
discovery of discoveries
brittle chrysalis
upside down, branching
breathing, pulsing
I pause and
inspect the
pupa’s fortress
tight and hard as
childhood memories of
milkweed pods
splaying, splitting, dropping
fragments into the
pungent soil beneath
My birth sac
splits apart
Baptismal waters
run down my legs
he’s going to be a
football player the
doctor predicts.
one last push
spills my babe
onto linen’s
glaring whiteness.
oops, he’s a she
and so beautiful.
A parallel universe
repeats, reflects, completes
an ever changing
life cycle
sunshine dries
black and orange panes
tiny filaments of gossamer
wings shimmer silky white
against the opaque sun
Dad’s car delivers
mom and babe home
their newborn squalls.
her tiny fingers
curl in a tight fist.
each digit is a
prayer bead
chanting its presence.
I gaze in amazement
my mind awhirl
wings and elbows,
antennae and toes
displace space now that
seconds before was
unknown. unclaimed.
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2018
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
Patterns gleam in the sun
Threads lie side by side
Or criss-cross
In intricate patterns
Like individuals intersecting
Within the family
Each dependent yet separate
Blues, reds, greens and yellows complete the rhythm
Any strand pulled from this parade of colors
Reveals a gap in dreams unfulfilled
How I love you,
My middle child,
You are the elegant pendant
Dropping gracefully
From our necklace’s mid-point
Giving meaning to our chain of life
How I love you,
My middle child,
You are the glue
Within life’s weavings
Irrepressible giggles erupt in play with older sister
Whispered consultations emerge from pillow sessions with younger brother
Bridging, always bridging
Giving, always giving
Know, my middle child,
Those stirring fears
Of being in between
Are fleeting ghosts
Your constant beauty shines
Like the lighthouse globe
Signaling to all
Your presence
Rejoice in your role,
My middle child,
Imagine a shimmering reflection pool
Whose immutable colors
Expand and multiply
You are vital to a whole
That is greater than its parts
And you are loved deeply
Happy Birthday, Maureen
Love, Mom
September 27, 2014
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
Big Sister,
Little Brother
Big sister
Little brother
At play
First day
Of school
She takes
His hand
Shows him
The way
From home
Big sister
Little brother
Grows up
Passes away
He takes
Her hand
Shows her
The way
To home
Dedicated to
James C Kroll
May 3, 1946 - Jan 28, 2016
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
The highway bridges
Remnants of conversation
Clothed in ethereal blue.
Variform clouds
Stark white or gray
Bandage my heart.
Brother’s litany
Of thanksgiving
Floats above my head.
Mom and dad were
Good parents.
They worked hard.
Cemetery gates swallow us
Sleek and black
Like a raven
Plucking its prey.
Attendees’ musings are
Wetness on the
Road’s cheeks
Tactile as a
Cat’s tongue
Freshening the spirit
Words of gratitude
Misty as memory’s yesterday
Rich worked hard
He did very well for himself.
Puzzle pieces fit tightly
Brothers’ faces, Sister’s words
Cathartic like a cloak’s
Feathery embraces.
Drops of rain
Shower blessings
Prayers of thanksgiving
From another time
Diane is a beautiful girl.
Bill is smart.
How is Maureen?
Is he still here?
Yes.
How do I know?
Sunshine branching
Apple twigs glimmering
Meanwhile traffic
Normal as a busy
Day’s waking and sleeping
The wrought iron gates open
Spilling family out
Like white markers with
Blank dates
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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Kathleen Kroll Poem
Easter morning
Nineteen fifties
Black and white
Edged in gray
Pyramid like
Stepping stones
Determined by age and height
Reminiscent of the glories of Cleopatra
Stand silhouetted within
Easter’s sunny orbit
The Ideal family with fixed smiles
Returns the viewers’ gaze
Light enters
The shutter clicks
Kidnapping the treasured moment
Mom and dad
Bookend eldest daughter
Twin-like reflections of
Younger brothers stand at mid-point
Youngest daughter becomes
The monument’s foundation
Picture perfect in Easter finery
Chapeaus are draped in crushed netting
Brimming with bright flowers and multi-colored berries
Suit coats hold crisp white shirts and striped ties
Tiny purses dangle from wrists
Fixed Colgate-like smiles
Return the viewer’s gaze
Commemorating, witnessing, rejoicing
What is for who will come
Shoulder to shoulder they stand
Planets spiraling bumping, clashing
Yet staying in orbit
Generations may wonder
At the story being told
Does the little girl rue standing alone?
Or is it her statement?
Why not the oldest?
Leaving the parents together?
Must the brothers move glued as one through eternity?
Will each find a place in the firmament?
Will eternity claim the parents first?
Will a younger moon precede?
Frear not
As Gods’s heavens circumscribe
The position of the moon and stars.
Creation’s order begets love and benevolence
Tradition is reward and
Source material
For nature’s anomalies
Every Easter it was our family tradition to take a picture of the six of us before church. It was often taken on the steps of our family home.
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
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