The Poetry and Short Stories  of Kimmy Van Kooten The Writing Forum’s Writer of the Month - September 2007   AUTHOR’S BIO: The mother of 11 children, and therefore, she must be an expert! Yes, any questions about "mothering", just ask Kimmy! Her children range from 30 to 3 and they have 5 granddaughters who range from 4 months up to 13! Pretty much every stage! She has children who are married, just about married, in college, out of college, toddlers and teenagers... you name it! Kimmy spends what little free time she has, "freelancing". Her poetry, short stories, pen and ink drawings, photography and graphic design works incorporate God, her family life, growing up on the farm, trials of life, nature, romance and a little humor of course! "I like the variety in life seen through my eyes of everything I write..." Kimmy has spent so many years savoring for a time in her life where she can now put it all on paper! Born in Pequannock, NJ., she moved to a 70 acre horse farm in Allentown, Pennsylvania with all of her 7 sisters and 6 brothers! The apple doesn't fall far from the tree! Now residing deep in the woods of a Florida tropical fauna...Kimmy is inspired... "I love being a mother, a grandmother, and best of all, my husbands wife!" She surrounds herself with nature and loves to hike unknown territories! She also loves gardening, smelling the roses and playing her red conga drums! "They call me ‘Conga Kimmy!’" To read my short stories published here at The Writing Forum please click here. "Life itself motivates me and all it has to offer!" "Those that can see beyond the negative, wrap themselves up in the simplicity surrounding, can Listen to the Whispers and Rejoice!" © Copyright 2006 Kimmy VanKooten “May God shine through your thoughts and mine!” My Email:  KimmySchander@aol.com   POETRY BY KIMMY VAN KOOTEN: Click on the button in front of any title in the list below to be linked to that poem’s location on the page:   Abigail Rose   Bones to Skin   Orion Allies With Aldebaran Once Again! ...            and The Book of the Dead Has Fresh New Authors!   Petaline’s of Love   A Shore Fit   Until, Spring   Natural Actions (haiku)   Render This Dream   The Empty-Bellied Platypus   They've Barred the Bard   MOO OVER and OUT   A Rose, on the Third Day   All Together, Autumn   Mr. Trowbridge (Halloween poem)   A Calming Dignity   A Bard's Cuppa Tea   Abstract Arches   O’ Scintillations   The Day the Angels Toyed   Opened arms, Opened wide   Will, You Walk With Me   The Ballad of a Winter Damned   A RAW Reflection   His Ness of Sublime   I Saw Two Tables   Abigail Rose Climb through the trellis O’ Abigail Rose! Petal us pink as you go. . . Delicate one, en route to the Son Cling to the Cross every day Thy Will grows you sturdier this way! Embrace every bloom; drawing in, ‘til you swoon. . . The scent He assents just for you! Branch out with every seed that you sow! On a breeze your forever whispers will flow. . . And show,  just how beautiful you are!  Dedicated to my daughter, Abigail Rose ©Copyright 2012 Kimmy Van Kooten Photography by KVK   Bones to Skin Addressing the skeletons. . . That which stands tall, and protects our hearts. . . What’s in your closets to work with? Pants? First, one feat, then the other . . . ? Are you shirting on skin, or skirting to win? Over those bearing, baring, bones and sins . . .? We all bemuse notions on wight leafs From beginning to end, budding our unloaded small arms into oblivion. . . We must tackle these skeletons! Head on, in order to fit back into our skins again! Bite the bullet, so to speak, bracing yourselves! You have guts and nerves too, stomach it! Frames of the buttress, leg on . . . live on! We cannot iconize on paper that which materializes from the tree rapers, just like we cannot allow cyber crooks to steel us, unsighted! See, delighted! Re-live, anew! . . . Try on different hats, and allow yourself to decide who’s holding your felt tips! Outfit what’s unfit, and deck out the bone! Yup! . . . We’ll take in hand, a simple, back-to basics plan And those emaciated gallows of yore The broken, the cracked, the brittle and weary, the fractured dinosaurs. . . Will chip away, to fillet of. . .  the past. . . Open the doors! Let out, what barged in, and elbow it to death! Bend your carcasses over and moon that day, that time, that person! However, whenever, whatever happened, it happened! It’s time to stand tall and protect our hearts again! Un-pen the skeletons, with a pen! Now . . .  addressing the skin. . . . ©Copyright 2012 Kimmy Van Kooten   “Orion Allies With Aldebaran Once Again! ... and The Book of the Dead Has Fresh New Authors!” Venus’ retrograde of our compelling poles has now commenced to ... carrying us back to our underlying principles. . . Rising from every foundation, on pedestals based on Love and humanity The desire to harmonize with the Infinite, is renovating. . . A “World Court” must be formed, NOW! For the King of Monguls prepares. . . as he collects the gold against our Masters’ signature! Awaken to your ancient memories! Nibiru will lead their line of attack down the path of the aligning Milky Way, like the shiny droplets of a mother’s sustenance. . . These shining stars are siding from the Black Hole And the Nephilim will soon emerge, channeling their Sumerians back to the Anunnaki! There was a plethora of clues! Who did not heed? They have returned to claim their strands! The two snakes of the double helix. . . the cross-over of, theirs and our chromosomes, that made slaves out of us! The mining of their gold is at end, if you wish! This is the Age of Aquarius! The end of the thirteenth baktun has arrived! Will you hop on Planet X as she passes by? From the Adam, an Eden will manifest! The Coming comet contains all the amalgamation of sacred knowledge . . . above and beyond the twelve! Think Apostle, planet, zodiac or Tribe. . . Now is the time to reunite what we’ve scattered A new paradigm is here! The Thirteen Skulls give rise to The Coming Together of these crystals! Our representation of pure transformation, reshaping the shift . . . Unlocking Stonehenge, in an order to neutralize . . . so new realities will manifest! Let us synchronize our dreams and find each other! Find the Pampa Colorada Follow the Nazca Lines. . . The sacred path to water your souls. . . All will be exclaimed along the way . . . a little Child will lead us. . . . ©Copyright 2012 Art and Prose by Kimmy Van Kooten All Rights Reserved 2012   Petaline's of Love Gelled in solutions, red Our spiraling osculation, bled. . . Beyond the striations! In colors of every slip, we gripped Just the two of us, stirring, lip to lip. . . With cupped hands and the feat to outline the shadows, forming Our freckled spheres into fragrant petaline’s of Love. . . . ©Copyright 2011 Kimmy Van Kooten   A Shore Fit On weathered piers,  wakes ripple in Lapping all the moor with yesterday's sea For knowledge tides atop of our worlds And the Father sets view from the lath. . . Together we run barefooted to hath Our shores' to surely fit to the other. . . All wave to Mother! Your eyes always sparkle in her sunlight. . . Under His Sons' Light~ So buoyant and jaunty, sometimes even urbane... A child rides on their daddy's flip-flops just the same. . . ©Copyright 2011 Kimmy Van Kooten   Until, Spring Seed of the Snapdragon thorn of the Lime. . . How nature toys with the mortal mind! Little shrunken heads consuming spiky fruits  . . . with no throats to swallow, no bodies, mute! In somebody's company, now, garaging frost We're hanging with the Pineapple tops sharing Tilo’s pause. . . Until, Spring. ©Copyright 2011 Kimmy Van Kooten   Natural Actions (haiku) Nature can be cruel My Mother wears Army boots Rhythm in motion. . . . ©KVK-07/11   Render This Dream Asleep, under my own dream, through some unfamiliar headland I see ballet slippers. Fields of pink ballet slippers, Pointing upward; with loose, long, satiny ribbons The pinkest satiny ribbons, dancing about the breezes! Undulating, as I’m wading through, Two by two, each corolla, blooming in their plot to poise me! I see shapely sites; these pointed toes, pointing skyward . . . it’s heavenly! Pink, and heavenly! I’m twirling, and spinning . . . in a field of something, untried; untied. . . My! How the mind can plow through these sways of Wight, Silk legs for stems; the harvest might . . . could tickle them? No? Yes? A field of giggling ballerina’s, in. . . unhearing thoughts of being gets, like when facing breast cancer, or even, death…now Pink that! Listen to this tunes of the “Nutcracker” and toddle through, in fields of supine dancers Knowing. . . an unfamiliar beauty lies within all things! . . . Feel the soft; be the pretty! Yes, come! Be! The pinkest at your daintiest. . . The satiny ribbon…flowing . . . believing. . . there’s a song to render, all suffering, smiling. . . I may be lying down…but, I’m awake now ©Copyright 2010 Kimmy Van Kooten   The Empty-Bellied Platypus ~Dedicated to my granddaughter, Mikayla~ Happy 14th Birthday, sweetie! We love you SO MUCH!...and we hope all your tummy aches go away! Choose to obtain better eating habits, my dear! WORDS of the WISE! :) Once upon a platypus In the lands of Amber Sun. . . An empty-bellied platypus Side’s to side’s she’d have some fun! Yes, I must readjust my fare of foods! River prawn just doesn’t fill. . . Those wiggly worms, I cannot catch. . . And these yabbies pinch my bill! She felt upon a Concord bunch, waddling No eyes, no ears, no nose. . . She sensed their plump of purpleness Amid the yore bury, orchard rows Now, Pratel is this? I’ve come across. . .Never, did my eyes did see! You know my belly is too empty for a platypus. . . Ha! But not for long I be! Seriatim. . . how she gathered them. . . A store within her cheeks! Only to return to the river’s edge One bonzer feeding feast! Grapes from vine, O’ I ne’er dined. . . No shrimp, I’ll ever eat! No emptied-bellied platypus here. . . It is all I can do, to speak! Belly full, Aye!...she had her fun. . . So pleased to call it a night! That platypus curled and burrowed in, maffling “ My tomorrow, let’s do rice. . . ” ©Copyright 2010 Kimmy Van Kooten   They've Barred the Bard Not to shoot the chute, but, They barred the bard! All eyes counted the ayes and its official! Arms raised, were razed. . . His rood, rude. . . What pours from his pores, poules in his pools E'er to lay in the lye to lie! No intension's; no intentions. . . Thus, when inveighed, we must invade! Indicting those inditing. . . To know, “No, the hoe is not to hoa! Only a loan to the lone, a hymn to him" “Oh sear, O' seer! Like the sea, here . . . See hear! The cession in your session to pen will last only as long as it takes you to pried you of your pride, and take a good peek at your peaks. . . Reek what wreaks! Right your writes!" But, until that day arrives, the vise to vice will white this wight or sight, to ne'er cite again! © Copyright 2010 Kimmy Van Kooten   MOO OVER and OUT Stick the joker to your spoken weal Audiences the euphony and musters first gear . . . Click, cliques a click, you pedal to Pythagorus Passerby, the cow, penning your unelaborated think-ups! Hay by the way . . . It 'll get your bull in that what a ruckus! You segueing underground now? . . . living the sound . . . how? Probing in the seek with that finger up your creek? Now how? No! . . . Know how!. . .the brown cow goes in all its knowingness Smell the rounded patty in your oven of ambiance! But remind . . . horsing without the ask is said, ugly and arrogant! Some clapped, some spat . . . Still, we quarrel over beans! And, what vegetable will you be in your next life? What bovine doesn’t lie when the rains come? Okay, now my cycle is wet and I’m riding in the puddle . . . Mud spit, cow shit . . . no, I’m not befuddled! Throw the wight limen’s at me in the thresholds of my silence As I ride up to the doorsteps on the edge Heavens! . . .must I return to Hellenes for more struggles? Rarefaction does have the best of us! Please, make some order out of this udder chaos! In this eternal belligerency of opposites . . . moo low, let loose and free the cattle! Ride with me, rurally, through these provincial pastureland’s grazing on every field of battle! Inherited guilt stems from the Siberian shamans Where a sprawling tree will reach out to any fisherman! There . . . on the banks of darkness, see the Holstein’s patching as the ordinance of time Where everything stilled always stood for black and white! For the love of wisdom, honor and gain . . . well . . . that stilled, still remains cud .. . Savoring for the latter, rung by ring as church bells ding Until ALL the cows come home! Moo-over and out . . . I gotta flat in the city! © Copyright 2009 Kimmy Van Kooten   A Rose, on the Third Day I stand and wonder. . . Who you are? Who is it, that stands In the presence of my words . . . in what I seem to interpret My own particular surroundings? Look, over there. . . on the other side of the lake, across. . . Where reflections are left from overhanging shadings of a seasoned Willow Gaze. . . up into the bluing sky, afore your eyes. . . fixing them On how a bud forms on the Flowering Maple Speak of the Confederate Rose and ask me why it changes colors within a given day. Watch when the next leaf falls, listening to the silence. . . in its descending Release!. . . and feel for the Earth! The earth is our hands. The sky, our thoughts And with every sound our beating heart’s , in unison, a voice. . . Triggered by a human soul within the world of uttering abatements! This rose opens white. . . by midday she is pink! Night comes and she shrivels into a deep magenta. . bleeding.... and by the third day she is gone! Into a state of, have mercy on me. . . I did my best to exasperate you when I was at the purest of white, newest in my own particular surroundings and unbeknown to any Being! Where were you when you left me to bloom. . . mostly alone...? And the times, when I was pinking at His presence when you skipped me by...? I, in my darkest of mauve’s, when I am finished here, will have glorified mostly grasshoppers and butterflies of flitting golds, but. . . upon their wings I happily have spread my seeds in hopes, one day I will be awed for what I could of done for you! Banded together, I am, we are. . . still a rose, my friend. The wind is the Love! Along the banks of the slow moving rivers, the lake is its end. . . Reflect on that a moment. . . Imagine it’s beginnings, when the rains came And the lakes overflowed with raging rivers forming. . . Newer Winter’s...when the Spring’s returned and Summer’s shined so high above! Yea!. . For the Son is our Savior! His warmth, our existence And this Fall?. . . the Confederate Rose blooms in the South, in my own backyard. . . just for me! I see her now, and I appreciate her more for what she can do. . . And, I appreciate, You! On the third day, He Rose again. . . © Kimmy Van Kooten Copyright 2009   All Together, Autumn It’s on these bright, beautiful days in Autumns’ prime. . . When I red, yellow, and brown my way through leaving Before she dies, all together In the cold of it all? Like a winding sheet, wrapped in palls, every last pigment will be raked. . . Uncolored. Tapering in jade and redounding in wight’s But, it’s crushing me! Spanned in the tints and dotage’s, merely, of our own maturation. . . “Why do I keep seeing sheets blowing in the wind?” End-where everything has fallen from the trees. . . Bare naked we’ll stand before Him! Looking up to this seasons’ sky. . . arms outstretching. . . Like pleading, before our God, He answered me! “Each falling color embodies the gather of every race. . . It’s in the green, I notice, when you become like aliens to Me, taking for granted the Spring and Summer’s I give . . . Rejoice in each other, every color!. . . and lief your Fall’s For in a Winter’s end . . . We ALL are one. . ." "All together, Autumn." © copyright 2009 Kimmy Van Kooten   Mr. Trowbridge Mr. Trowbridge lives in our house Up in our attic with a white crippled mouse He sleeps on a cot with some smelly old pillow He walks all around the rafters, so billowed! If you wake up too late, the sheets he will tug. . . If you vacuum the carpet, he’ll pull out the plug! If you arrange your pantry, so neat with your cans. . . By morning he’ll have everything all rearranged! My friends get scared when they come spend the night And most times we spook them and tell them he bites! He has lived in our house most all of my life. . . Mr. Trowbridges' been useful when I needed a good fright! His white crippled mouse will race through my room. . . Once I almost smashed him with a little whiskbroom! This made Mr. Trowbridge, seemingly mad! For when I woke up. . . I couldn’t find anything I had! He moves things all night from here, then to there. . . Once I woke up and our cupboards were bare! Do you know what I found one time in our fridge?... A crippled white mouse sitting there, with Mr. Trowbridge! There he was, all smiley and white! With these teeth in his mouth that didn’t look right! This crippled white mouse was gnawing a bone. . . While Mr. Trowbridge slowly licked on an ice cream cone! Our housekeeper, Lucy, dared not to look! For spirits and mice gave her such a spook! But, mom didn’t mind and would call out his name. . . "Hey Mr. Trowbridge, damn you, stop playing your games!" Now, ghosts and/or mice in your house should be caught But there must be some reason why they continue to haunt?? One time I yelled out, ". . . just , jump off the ledge!! And, head toward the light you poor,poor,dear... Dear, dear. . . Mr. Trowbridge!" © Copyright 2006/07/08/09 Kimmy Van Kooten   A Calming Dignity A calming dignity? Hovering, herein, fleshed out, seas Sent to sleep in a whatsis, windless, tranquility . . . in the heat of day, no less! My worthies have the best of me!. Actually, all of us . . . So deceptively secure, here, allaying and abating our self-confidence Quiet the child? Well, putting a mask on the proprietors and curtseying to the queens isn’t doing it! Yeah right! ... that ought to make someone laugh! It seems only one can be the majority these days. Do you see the horizon? The colors are all wrong! Is there any land left for my grandchildren to dock on? Who owns what? A country so young, really . . . how swot! Prayer, and the lack of . . . now, reactions are, “Not!” Assiduity at its worst! To agitate in solace soothes nothing Even being drugged will only sedate us for so long. . . Recovery is our first step to optimum health! Human technology will never be outsmarted, yes, and a diaphragm eventually rises! The branch of knowledge is bobbing next to me . . . just floating there, like a sponge who’s sorbate ability has pruned itself Everything’s starting to taste like salt! So why not? Send the hurricanes! Crack the earth! In the eye of the storm I will remember this moment! All-knowing, she’s nowhere near finished! Its why wood always floats! It’s why the sea is so, an expanse! It’s why, as an American, I will forever fight! It’s why this mother cries, but, most of all, My all, is, and always, will be, about God! If the Pilgrims could hold a ship together with one little screw from a simple printing press Surely, we can have the decency to keep it all afloat! What held us together, then, can only work now! Stop this media bullshit and prevent our vessels from sinking! Are we that naive to watch us be over soaked in the seas of propaganda? Calming dignity? Nope. . . . I’m carving me a canoe! I’m gonna put a real feather behind my ear! Then, sit and wait . . . and when that first breeze comes a-blowin’ Dammit! Watch me go! . . . Giranamo! You know, they’re still here! They waited their turn! And what goes around comes around! But, this time, we MUST take EVERYONE with respect, mind you, killing no one! The Indians, the Africans, the Mexicans, the Moslems, the Jews, the Germans, the Christians, everyone, every color, every religion has to be heard! . . . and, everyone must listen this time! Doesn’t all wood float? A toothpick won’t get us anywhere! Building arks can! Watch, our chests rise . . . breathe in . . . breath out. . . Wait . . . as long as you can for that different air! Real life treasures lies at the bottom of a sea! Adorning another’s riches, with your own . . . In the midst of mere tokens, taking taking, taking . . . Faking, un awakening . . . raking . . . rowing . . . nowhere Calming dignity? Trailing Arbutus, I believe That sea is blue, greened. . . © Copyright 2008 Kimmy Van Kooten   A Bard's Cuppa Tea Steep ’d, I beseech thee, enter into the pomes of a poem! Compose your Ge or jeu d’ esprit Come! . . .mellowly prose evermore disrobe Thy poetical faculty Pour ’d, seasoning fro’ the cuppeth of you Influentially a tome and astute Marking thy name Hath origins’, O fame! Read writings of yore to denude Sips from esteemed language in muse Spot to rise o'er and defuse Dispersing in verse that rest will unpurse Whilst ye wet lips’ provenances lauds ope to thy words Savor my Poet! Thy quills’ will, doeseth wells in me! A Scribe’ d in flavoring leaves ‘Tis readings of sorrows Thro’ joyous repasts till morrows May our forbearance for pens ne'er cease! © Copyright 2007 Kimmy Van Kooten   Abstract Arches Out of a realm in some auriferous sky beyond thoughts beckoning, impossibilities of my . . . Made up animations . . . animating subsistence Fluttering amid further, while furthering the distant distance Here . . . hear how me my soul shivers and a Spirit heir airs An enhanced accent, assenting to e’er I unravel an unreal unreeled by injection like some feel feel insertions of serried perceptions Exposing sees . . . the one’s never quite seized! I'm in another express Addressing the undressed . . . baring bearing’s unsown Going with the flow, I'm all on my own! For no one impression just daubs in the daub The idea of it all paints paintings on walls! With unseen colors . . . it lets me, I am! I draw . . . I gleam, I'm set . . . set free on the lam! A Vorse is a Vorse, even, of course will be coarse Bristled with distinction I followed the tracks in a stupor through cracks Up aisles of isles of wiles and back! With shoed feet in feat . . . my will spanned in knacks I hung out on a limb to nick the abstract This golden arcade that arched my existence Appeared in a wight's rite, right of the essence Braiding braids through my heart, in ribband exacts Nee bending here where no sinner’s rove lacks In aught, I just ought, and in wrest, I am resting I wade for the wading, In sane, I'm abrading I get caught in this seine let lucid escape . . . rising up that ghat that rases the bane With a stoned quean of Queens, and a King that was thronged Who reigns with reins, rapping wrappings of wrongs? Babbling brooks of my breath tempt my unmeaning’s so quenched Thirsty at best, a swallow’s down nests . . . so Blessed! So, sow real the far-reaching and dig out deep-seats of reasoning . . . Leach from cering! Wake up! . . . seams seem like their peeling! Sing songs unstayed Your schematic Creator's way, weighs! Representational truth, lives life all aloof, abducted obtusely with no context in use Come, walk with me in a Netherworld of the untamed In an array . . . a ray, directing life force of day! Defining humanness under the surface of consciousness insinuates no assailable boundaries in this world of incompetence Stirring, stir the pot of our ingrained imaginations In an aesthetic spawning stew for improver rations Culminate now, with all your smears and yore splotches Reach for apprizing . . . a mad organism watches! . . . In my unpredictable In the here. . . In you. . . in our, Abstract Arches. . . © Copyright 2007 Kimmy Van Kooten   O’ Scintillations A Mourning, as the first Son aims its relevance, Willingly takes; tantalizing lashes, so my eyes can wake O Scintillations! Divine sensations; Sleep is not an option. Mourns a wake for all our sake Night will come again! Clocks alarm me while still in this place roosters find me, preying, Praying, for grace. Privileged pleas for more winks of sleep How do I continue to lie in this heap? Fresh red rents the Flesh is marred, Wrinkles from my sheets, my life is scarred. For the Ninth hour, Noon, upon His face, and I'm too weak to rest. " The fullness of time", from the threads that bind Eternity is awakeness! Appreciate the gave, Or be the grave? I stayed up way too late! Machinations of Satan; get out of my head! O Scintillations, coruscation, My blanket of laminations. Please God, help me out of this bed! The Sons’ a crossing, from afar; Dark is teasing me, and there’s a window in my room; "....The curtains ripped in two" , I see, reflections of a tomb. Splinters open of filial strife from ancestral offspring; this is my life! Be Aware, for a decedent on winter is here! Sacrificing ayes, accepting our nays, its cold out under the blanket. A jeering rabble, before the babble, warm crosses over my soul. So, Rise from the dead , wight ones led; for coats of all colors still bleed in their bed. Take peace from your pillow, You supinical creatures, a blockbusters’ featuring Him! A Star lights entered your humble abode, to arouse even your soul from sin. Twinkles, twinkle what wonders you are?; Your diamonds are raping His sky! Birds of fine feathers, keep us apart; affecting my heart, wile sights from my eyes dream, gleams, and the Insect sports beams in the Dark. Who wishes the desert a dwelling place? Shrink from evil, frisson in grace, Recombine my slumbers past, compiling dreams right out of my mind. With my head on your lap Wake me up and bring me back! Heaven lead me out of the hour of darkness Dead Hurry! Please! Get the Hell out of my bed! Upon His Light ones’ Spirit delights "of My cup....", I will drink quenching..... Imbibe luminescence Jots and tittles, souls a’ stenching! Sweeten the chalice in my sedation And, from every yawn, Christ will dawn O Scintillations, Divine sensations Wake me up from all temptations! © 2007 Kimmy Van Kooten   The Day the Angels Toyed Exhalations rose from the mother her heart haggard and quaked The abuse had shackled her shoes and she couldn’t walk away . . . All that loved her, turned their faces but not before twisting and tiring her naturalness Notching her as a marked woman there, in her stove of sickness Suddenly, the trees were barking to Elohiym and all her seas roared to Malek Thunder was at an utter . . . for it had known, the hunts up now, and the trumpet was blown! Then a thimble of horns was handed to the butchers and a holy laugh of archangels was fifed Confirming Corinthians’ question, "...how much more things, that pertain to this life?" I heard one cry out, "Ye go now, sit and dine with the invalids," and another angel fastened her trumpets to the blind as others flew over and down, blowing into them, sounding, and the blinded ones were trying to find . . . "Why are they toying with us?", I stood in tearful eying . . . Then all chains released from the mother; She was finally free, as the land damn split in two, and the door to heaven locked and she, the holding key! To magnify their feathers, my whole world seemed distorted I fell to my knees, weeping . . . "but, I was her keeper!" The thunder roared now, slistering, careless to time Slenching, in the wake of the reaper . . . for who am I? In this accelerated delusion I saw the Spirit Mother, rise above her globose of earthen pants; Sooming tincture from the moons, mightily . . . And then poured it on the land! Spooning us with her feathers, our halves prevailed as one With an earth sorned of all impurities Here and now, Mother Nature, so proud at what she’d done! © Copyright 2007 Kimmy Van Kooten   Opened arms, Opened wide Opened arms, opened wide Face towards Your sky Souls pour Rains fall where they lie Touch drops, from clouds, Warm waters of cold, Quenching thirst, O Darkness disburse! Opened arms, opened wide Within my own storm Souls alone, So, cleansing of thine, so gray in a blue Twisters in strife Make up your minds, choosing in life What will you take...or give? The fork or the knife? Opened arms, opened wide Crystals tears, pounding Lightening life Without any weather, what would we write? Stand up, the better Faced opposites, the wetter! Wash me all up! So more I will grow, hold high of my cup! Opened arms, opened wide My palms toward the sky Take me I'm yours A time of my life In the mid of a day or night of a night Surrendered teardrops to His skies up above Survival can't exist without His love! Opened arms, opened wide... © Copyright 2006 KimmyVan Kooten   Will, You Walk With Me Will, I walk with you always...aiming higher than imagine Neighing of the keen It no longer desires inaction My spirit, Entire, keeps watchful, fatefully, Bracing among the whispering dew, Fully blanketed in profound comprehension We have reached a destination anew Will, I walk with you... seeing... searching for future good through our present malign Beyond all ahead, in an ambled gait of soundness, seen but unseen, sublime Cocooned in His light, I follow without hesitation Elapsing in stride Entering the forest, away from all my vegetation Will, I walk with you briefly... asserting of time and a place Accepting, regardless of inconveniences in this unpredictable should Blinding of all white line sequences Brindled with want, I come face to face, confronting, yet I am head shy Still and fixed, an unlearned protection, finally we embrace, petting, with an adamant vie Will, I walk with you... grazing...here you can either feel life or death I felt cold, harnessed within itself, in an envelop of darkness in a subdued state of precarious Mingling, shifting ,one foot weighted and then the other... Knowing, each Spirit waits, one shadowing and one of lightness Will, I walk with you... Our embrace mounts a voice and I called out with such immense power! "Whatever it is you do... You need to Stop!" The bridling path now changes...no one balked! responding...I see surrender , eyes lowered now, no longer glazing... just looking somewhere else... I watch as this Spirit inhales my blazing Will, I walk with you The heat from leading releases so satisfied with the following... Within a day, my inspiration returns, this time different Now bowing to my embrace of yesterday, full feeling embracing...the second time, I felt a warmth A cold path altered, releasing the captive steed Returning forever free Our Spirits smile now! Will, You walk with me... © Copyright 2006 Kimmy Van Kooten   The Ballad of a Winter Damned "Make these chilled winter winds pass me I've seen the damn beyond my pane" "And the live oaks they shiver, their bark trembles my deign!" "Please, give the currents a voice Awake! This sleep-seasoned phase The sun seeks to warm the heartless leaves craze" "Look, look, the Almighty air seizes the cold pants and flinches! " "Ay, Will it expire all life clung to its winches?" "Yea, golden with highlights The Fall’s reminisce It’s leaving across, as the bare maples hiss! " "In blending with Jasmine’s anew the bright yellows trumpets, A price of will paid leaving, toward flowers of strumpets!" "So, if the tall pines in shedding, as it needles and hones, with the red berries of Holly nestling in gathers , the air groans?" "Here me, this eve blows in the garden, and in sight, sways azaleas When the chimes ring above, an air hopes to obtain us!" "Lo! Petals are falling Arose in the wind!" "Yea, the damn near freezes as nature abscinds!" © Copyright February 2007 Kimmy Van Kooten   A RAW Reflection I looked in the mirror, A RAW reflection As I look within me and beyond all animations, I gathered the conflicts of your retaliations I watched within these eyes of mind, beyond the darkness, in a space of mine How can wants, take, and hand a child their strife? When their arms explode the innocent life? Their surface reveals all offspring traditions, while their legs stand on tables of contradiction. I looked in the mirror, A RAW reflection My eyes can see each proud demonstration. And their flags still wave in songs of nations. Mock and mimic, O’ bloodless tongue! I can hear now, how your bells have rung The guns will blast in postulate chatter. While nations recline in their lipid matter. Someone, up there, must have turned out the light For dawn now darkens our early light I looked in the mirror, A RAW reflection Now, an image reflected, when I looked straight at me But, we can't see behind all the worlds vanity The straightedge will shorten, in lengthy a rage. So all pray for wisdom from our Omniscient sage. Stay within and surround, one world of peace. Don't look in the mirror with such furrowed crease. Shovels only dig greed and bury us more, I looked in the mirror and I saw WAR © copyright 2006 Kimmy Van Kooten   His Ness of Sublime My quiet pines, a chime in the breeze where stillness allows, this notice I seize! Prate in a distance, of summoning strife heart raising moments, abate for your life! Souse in simplicity, dance with a plant equally unfreed , in a rhapsody’s extant! A tweedle among tweedle’s, only one can be heard canoodle the thought, to the stag of your heard! My quiesce is mindless, though yours intertwines Distant in likes, back to reading ‘tween lines... What I hear you can't, what you say I don't Words that He wrote, sounds only my trump! Your casings are yours, depending the doors For closing in quiet, softens slams among wars Earring no sounds, filling a heart right in the right Soaking in silent, before chiding the tripe Peace can't occur, in a vault of vacuity Know how to go, in your worlds of obscurity Commandments of Thine, give reasons to rime A treasure awaits you, in His Ness of Sublime! © Copyright November 2006 Kimmy Van Kooten   I Saw Two Tables One day, I must have left my flesh Perils before my eyes I envisioned a room in a graven mood where the wallpaper transmuted,| insomuch, opaquely muted, where surfacing faces of my children obscured and theirs, and theirs, and theirs... And there beyond all wisdom’s blind I saw two tables and each were mine Across this room I saw a door wide opened to my fate And in the distance I could see not green pastures... but a desolate browning in a wasting land A shrub less plain of barrened pate in a wilderness of utter hate There beyond the distance, a small and narrowing gate... I watched in shame, yet dreadful confusion while falling to my knees... For right before, in front of me Figures, I did see A relentless succession, not of this world I saw His children appear unfurled all processioning in...And each of them from a netherworld, justly just I've been Their formation walked slowly by... This image all from me and there I saw of this my life’s, a line of all my enemies Each one held an unlit torch and I was holding a flame One at a time they passed me by Lighting their tapers, light from mine There they cried, repentance hewed and somehow, someway, I could tell... Those in the midst of me today, had seen their awful Hell I didn't quite get, perceive, nor find... Yet, they all appeared to me, as blind! Now, set before me, Table One, centered in crumbling stones Unfilled glasses, a flat dish of drones A vase depicting no fragrant flower surrounding in abundance, the stings of my fruitful dower Who is serving this flavorless fruit?, I asked And why can't I smell this rose? My questions came from within my soul But I don't recall quite how Then, a setting with my name appeared With a voice beyond the walls, evincing... saying unto me, .insisting... "Which ones do you wish... to see you now? Which ones should I throw asunder?" At that moment, Fear forced upon me, to set my eyes on the other table... This one, Table Two, is oh so very fine!, On my right, adorned in gold Majestically gilted, flutes of wine filled way beyond belief I saw this table a total opposite of, and surely in my relief... And then, All eyes of mine, upon these walls seemly opened wide waiting for my answers still... So, why all of a sudden is this decision mine? For whom am I to judge? "Well, you're the one that held your grudge until your last breath, you never budged! So, I leave this choice now, up to you O’ savage wolf these are your sheep waked no longer, while they sleep You decide with all your might Who should I bless now with you, their sight?" Then I came back into my frame... One day, according to the Inevitable, I will no longer breathe this air and when my destined day arrives No perils my eyes will bear For Only, One table will He set for me Knowing ahead I can, I will, and did I... ever FORGIVE? © Copyright October 2006 Kimmy Van Kooten