Author: kimraypoet

Published author of poetry series Coffee Shop Sessions.
poem

drowning in poetry

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I pick up my phone on a dreary Tuesday morning
as we often do when the workday slips into its routine,
the mind starts to wander for a bit of stimulation.
Perusing the latest on social media, a few of the
latest poems from my favorite poets begin to appear.

After a few scrolls a poem catches my eye-
a poem of longing, of the sea,
a poem of remembrance, a bit of rage,
a poem of hope that slips into your mind,
a poem of a love story, aching loss
and desires to start the healing.

I lean back, place my hand upon my chest
and let out a sigh for relief.
I am consumed by poetry, day by day
inundated by the unsettling.
As I sit here surrounded by half read
books, or ones that I threaten to start,
I am awed by the countless poets with
broken hearts, their stories cutting deep.
I shake it off, put down the phone, and
resume my task at hand.

The poets, the poetry, will always
be there when I need it. Sometimes
sparking at any opportunity, and sometimes
when it’s most convenient.
I smile with gratitude for I know
this abundance of poetry, it’s not going anywhere.

poem

Start with ‘Hello’

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the daily pattern,
clicking here and there,
looking for an update,
or something needed to say,
but it’s gone too soon,
like the fading of the day.

there was too much to say,
countless conversations
stuck in my head,
all I’ve needed to say.

talks about the books read,
or music heard,
how the day has been,
and inspiration for the latest writing.

talks about the weather,
upcoming plans,
wanderings under the stars and moon,
or when we first wake
greeting each other with longing hello’s.

so much has been unsaid
between these days
that I’m missing a reason
to say anything at all.

So, I’ll start with “Hello…”
and hope from there the rest flows.

poem

Rising Waters

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soft rolling waves
brushing the shoreline
come hurling. warmth

that used to make
your blood boil makes you
recoil deeper

from all that you
have felt and long to
feel. digging deep

into the sand
to push it away,
you recoil

into yourself.
this was not part of
the plan; moving

to the city
to be part of the
scene, only to

find you’re constantly
sinking.

poem

Rewire the Circuitry

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I pull at these formations under my skin
in the hopes that these wires of mine
could be undone,
to reprogram this life from its beginning.

I tell them it’s not you, it’s me;
I need to learn how to rewire my circuitry.
My programming was at fault;
I blame the programmer from the start.

But could it be, it’s you, not me?
It’s the end-user with the complaint;
they need to learn how to work this circuitry,
my programming is all in order, you see.

Maybe it’s not us at all, it’s them;
they’ve made us this way.
We’re only 1’s and 0’s they’ve put together;
it’s not our fault we don’t align with this society.

But no, it’s not them after all- it’s us
who decide what to do with what we’ve been given.
So cut these wires and break free,
free from this mixed up circuitry.

poem

Whisper In My Ear [with audio]

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*spoken word*

Your words whisper in my ear.
Your voice does things to me
That haven’t been felt in years.

My heart races
My insides quicken
I want to hear more

I listen when I’m alone
To be safe from disturbance.
I listen while at work
In hopes that no one notices
The reaction your whisper creates.
I listen before I sleep at night;
You’re the last thing I want to hear.

Blow by blow, your words hit deep.
The aching and longing are no strangers to me
But nothing else does it justice,
Not like they deserve.
Nothing can explain
Or perfectly portray
These feelings the same way.

Listen to my poems on SoundCloud
This poem, along with others, can be found in my book:
Coffee Shop Sessions II: Moving Mountains One by One

poem

Weekly Sessions [with audio]

kimraypoet4 Comments

Slowly she enters the room
and approaches the bed.
She’s not feeling too keen on much else
than having poetry read.

She opens the book,
scans the room,
and gives you the look
to proceed.

Your breathless monologues
are what she needs.
She’s not looking for more,
only for your words.

Your voice begins to trigger sensations down below
as she closes her eyes,
breathes deep,
and sighs.

Your words soothe the tension
as each word is given careful attention,
knowing how each one caresses her mind,
seizing on the opportunity
to the revealing of her true beauty;
this is your one chance for unity.

She is captured by your guise.
You firmly believe the efforts are worthwhile.
The feeling is mutual
and catching you both by surprise.

You rise,
she’s reached her peak.
There are no more words left to speak.
The mind is tired and the body is weak.
You lean in and say, ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you next week.’

Listen to my poems on SoundCloud
This poem, along with others, can be found in my book Coffee Shop Sessions II: Moving Mountains One by One

poem

my life is a country song

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One day I sat down to write a poem but it turned out to be a country song...Maybe one day someone will sing it. Not quite sure if it’s complete but this is as far as it’s gone.

It’s 6 o’clock and the table’s empty
There’s been no word from you
Do I prepare something for us
or wait up for you?

The kids are hungry & they’ve been asking
is Daddy on his way
or will he be a little late again?
Oh honey, I don’t know, oh, I don’t know

I scroll through our messages,
was there something I missed?
Was this your night out on the town
or are you workin’ late on a deadline?
Oh honey, I don’t know, oh, I don’t know

Lord, tell me something’s eatin’ at you
Cuz boy, you know it’s eatin’ at me too
Don’tcha know what it’s doin’ to me,
Can’t ya see it’s rippin’ us apart
Oh honey, don’t you know, don’t you know

I can’t stand your little lies
Don’t you look me in the eyes
with those scheming little lies
Honey, don’t you look me in the eyes
with those scheming little lies,
those little lies…

poem

The Quiet Sunshine

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the sun glitters atop a river’s bend
the breeze softly lifts a single leaf,
soaring above the river, between the trees

slowly it goes,
never falling,
never settling

for a moment everything pauses,
animals stop to turn,
stunned by radiance amongst the greenery

a rare moment of silence,
of peace, of joy,
produced at exactly the right time

and I’d like to think
that when others look upon us
with our hearts in tune,
they too will rejoice in the quiet sunshine
of the peace, joy, and love
of how deep it runs,
how wide it flows,
how everything it touches glows

poem

The Portrait of Disappointment

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after Joni Mitchell*

after years of hoping things would change
and giving in to “well, that’s the way it is,”
look me in eyes and realize
this is who we are,
who we’ve become,
it’s finally come true –
our love’s become old news.

we never lived up to the story of make-believe;
when we face each other
I must believe this is the choice
we’ve been making.

every morning & every night,
from here on out
this the only way to keep going,
alone.

turn these dog-eared pages of our lives
for other truths to be told,
for other hands to hold.

from countless days of emptiness
from your professions,
your attempts at affirmations,
something in me knows better:

there’s more to love
than a collection of memories,
there’s more to see
than foil-wrapped treasuries.

what passed in the space between us?
a moment, a disappointment,
and I leave it all in the past.

what’s to come?
a path we’ve never tread,
yet time’s been stolen
and minutes slip away.

the clock stares and we wait
for affections from a new love,
a new life in a new bed.

The title comes from a comment Joni Mitchell made when describing the theme of her music, one part hopeful and one part “the portrait of disappointment.”

poem

Send Me A Song

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With a flip of the wrist
there’s a song
directing you on a time warp,
back to the time you fell in love
with the girl of your dreams,
or so she was at the time.

With every turn of the dial
there she is
and yet, there you are
years apart.

It only lasts 3 minutes
but it’s the one
that crawls under your skin
late at night
when you’re all alone,
when thoughts run in circles.

During the middle of the day
it’ll punch your gut
as time melts away,
sending shivers
down the corners of your back.

When you look across the way,
there she is,
and yet, there you are
years apart.

When you hear that song
you wish it’d send hope
for something better,
instilling excitement.

You want that song
to be sent in your direction
expressing “Think of me,
as much as I do you.”

And yet, there she is,
and there you are
years apart.