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Best Poems Written by Caren Krutsinger

Below are the all-time best Caren Krutsinger poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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We Are Not Merely Poets

Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self, 
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from people who do not understand that poetry 
is something we are compelled and born to do with our feelings.
Your diary entries may form themselves into goodness or badness
before you realize your calling as a poet.

Truths shockingly ooze out, surprising you.
Feelings creep out onto a page, in loud angry letters,
or romantic feelings daintily brush onto a crisp lined page
in the form of sweetness and light.

You are a word player, because you cannot
stop this obsession, but it does not define you.
This poetry gig is but a glimmer of a glimpse of yourself.
You might be a caregiver, or a wonderful friend.
People who count on your smile every day may not realize
you have a love affair with words, and an obsession to write them.

We are each a unique jewel, mined from God’s mind.
Poetry may initiate a whisper of a tiny facet of ourselves,
but our secrets are safe. We not merely poets. We are lovers
of life, and words. Most importantly, we remain gloriously hidden 
and unknown to most.

Written 12-20-18        Contest:  You Are Not Defined by Poetry
             Sponsor:  John Hamilton

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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The Things I Cherish

The things I value,
The things I cherish,
Are things no one else will
When I perish

Do I write a missive
Explaining the why?
Would this help save things
After I die?

This brown dead rose,
A gift from your dad,
Brings back the best night
I ever had.

This bead of pink
Once on a baby’s wrist
Only memory left
Barely a wisp

The things I value,
The things I cherish,
Are things no one else will
When I perish

Chosen Poem of the Day by PoetrySoup on 10-11-2018

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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My Girl

Secretly, I watch the neighbors, 
From my well-advantaged location.
Mrs. G. is complaining about her husband to Mrs. S.
No one's drama is ever as vivid as Mrs. G's.
They full-body laugh, tongues out.
Mr. P. is going to be late for supper again; 
I can hear Mrs. P. cussing.
At 4:15 I hear the all-day waited slam of a backdoor.
My girl is running toward me, flat out.
She is carrying a white pillow and gray blanket.
There's a plastic bag swinging from her arm as she climbs.
Prior experience tells me the sack holds a book, a drink
and her favorite sandwich - mayonnaise, peanut butter and lettuce.
After smashing a few ants on my floor, the girl flops down, 
and begins to read.
I smile as she devours the sandwich like a young starving wolf.
She's ten, the perfect age to devour.
Every day is the same except Saturday.
On Saturday my girl spends the whole day inside me,
reading two to three books at a time.
It is our favorite day.
Her sister runs out sometimes and begs the girl to play,
but we are fighting pirates, conquering Asia, taming macaws.
We are so in tune, she and I.
I know my girl has to climb down and run for the house, 
leaving me alone, 
to spy on the neighbors.

Date: 8/28/2018       What the Hell Throw One In   John Lawless, Sponsor

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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My Pirate Women

Pirate women permeate my spaces.
They are fierce and fabulous.
You dare not lie to them.
They will cut you to shreds, with their swords.

Cut  you to ribbons.

I do not crouch in fear.
I created them.
They are ruthless, savage, 
out for blood.

Thirsty for it.

I walk their planks proudly.
Eager for the drowning
that awaits.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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To Be Thrown Overboard Soon

Two scruffy pirates picked me up.
Intending to toss me overboard.
I weighed too much; they were struggling.
They needed to lighten their load.
But I was not going easy.
I purposefully got heavier.
"She is flotsom," the tall fat one said.
"Jetsam," the dumb ugly one argued.
"Let's get a dictionary," I said. "Let's do this right."
This gave me a few more days,
as there were no books on this ship.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019

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Color Me Happy

Color my day magical, paint my day lavender.
Throw in some glitter, some glitz and some fun.
A day with good friends, who laugh at the right times,
Who know when to hug, and know when you need to cry,
Staying silent, standing helpfully, lovingly by.

Color my day joyful, and enthusiastically prancy.
I know my friends are coming, so I am feeling quite dancy.
Color my day exciting, color my day glittery with acrylics and neon.
Paint it in fun, wholesome and spectacularly freeing and fine.

Color my day.
Paint it lavishly with oranges and purples.
Throw in plenty of pink, of the hottest and happiest hue.
Color my day magical.
Color it marvelous.
Color it wonderful.

Here are my friends.
Let’s paint them,
But save some of the color
For me, as I want to be as magical
As possible. Rainbow me up. Be daring and wild.
You cannot hurt me; I am a rainy-day child.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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What Is Stopping You

What is holding you back?
What is stopping you?
What is making you uncomfortable 
about asking?
about wanting?
about dreaming?
about wishing?
about expecting?
about planning?
about setting new goals?
about learning new things?
about figuring out other ways?
about being your most excited self?
about opening yourself up to new opportunities?
New  possibilities? New people? New places? A new job?
Or is it a who?

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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My Princess

When I grow up, will I still be princess?

Of course, says glowing daddy. 
A roll of the queen’s eyes.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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What Color Are You

What color are you?
You! You! You! You! You! You! I could do this all day. Smirk.
I am not talking about hair color, eye color, or skin color.
I am not talking about teeth color, or freckle color or fingernail color.
I am talking about soul color.

Soul color is something some see, others do not.
Soul color is something I feel, but do not see.
My husband sees it, as a body halo around people.
Not always, but sometimes.
I do not. My spirituality comes to me in a different way.

Yellows are lively and fun, with a child-like innocence.
They love to play, and dance, skip and sing. 
Lots of us are Yellows until a Gray comes along and hurts us.
Grays are dour and sad, watching for the clouds, always finding them.
They like to marry Yellows and take them away from their families.
They are experts at isolating them, putting them down, tearing their wings off.
Watch out for Gray, for when they first present, they appear to be Yellows.

Oranges are creative, dazzling with inside rainbow colors, splashy and exciting.
They cannot be stopped, and will do whatever they can to remain enthusiastic.
If you try to get in their way they will laugh and steamroll over you, but nicely.
I have never seen anyone able to intimidate or anger an Orange. 
It might not be doable.

Blue is empathetic, ready to rescue all of the children. 
They write romantic poetry.
They know words like blessed, scarlet, twilight, thee, thy, 
heavenly, and diamond.
They see cherubs, and many of them sing a melodic song in a church choir.

Greens are unique. 
Abstract Greens are gardeners, landscapers, and childcare workers.
They love to nurture grass, flowers, trees, children, and each other. 
Concrete Greens are bankers, CPAs and lawyers. 
They like being around money.
Nothing else puts them into their happy zone, so why go anywhere else?
Grass? Ha! They scoff. They can pay Abstract Greens to mess with their lawns.

Ebonies are sleek, chic, and elegant. 
They wear evening gowns and put on airs.
Not because they want to, but because it is natural for them, 
they are exquisite.

Tans are snooty, they do not like anything with color. 
They especially despise orange.
They refuse to have any orange in their décor, shoes, cars, or social network.
They are all about being drab, bland, and plain.  
Oatmeal and wheat bread breakfast daily.

I made up my color people years ago when children at my school 
were fighting about color.
They were screaming in anger if someone called them a color 
with which they did not identify.
I had them all look at the inside of their wrists, 
which usually points out we all share some colors.

I spoke to them about the idiocy of labeling people by hair color or skin color.
I told them about soul color. 

In a week or two, the teachers were running around bragging about theirs.
"I am a blue." "I figured that!" "I am purple." "I bet you are abstract green."

If you are still reading, know that we are all rainbow, and that is more than enough.
For being rainbow unites us the fastest. That is what Rainbow does. Big grin now…..

Uh-oh. Run and I mean swiftly. Here comes a haughty Purple and stuck up Turquoise. Followed by Polka Dot and Plaid!

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019

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Do You Need Some Pixie Dust

Laughing, dancing, having the time of her life,
Faerie Fun went from mushroom house to toadstool cottage,
Spreading joy,
Playing with everyone
In a kind and pleasant way.
There was going to be no sadness
In Faerie Forest today if she could help it.
It is up to me, she said.
I am the catalyst for happiness today.
She ate breakfast with the Nymph family,
And they laughed about silly stuff,
But no people.
She watched Lila Leprechaun’s Lilliput dance,
And she clapped and clapped while
Mama Leprechaun took care of the
Unhappy baby. Baby calm. All is well.
Faerie Fun was soon skipping
Up the walk to the most challenging
House of all.
Change your attitude! She warned herself.
Change your attitude!
Her jaw was clamped tightly shut now, and she 
Was already filled with dread.
Pixie Dust! Her internal voice yelled. NOW!
The sparkly particles surrounded her, and settled down all over her, calming her instantly, and
Changing her attitude from not-so-great to wonderful.
Before she left Grump-Eater’s house, he gave her a long, lingering hug.  No one gets me like you, he said.
Progress at last.
Sometimes it is simply a matter of us changing our attitude.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018