Finding time to Celebrate Poetry, All Month Long

Celebrate Poetry and Poets for a month?
NaPoWriMo 2014 begins now…time to dive in.

I am in the middle of chasing deadlines on the WIP but I could not pass up a chance to dive into a sea of poetry and let those rhythmic waves wash over me. So I will be taking part this month in NaPoWriMo although at this point I can only promise 1 – 2 poems a week.

You can follow all my Poetry here

Are you taking part in NaPoWriMo this year?

The WordPress.com Blog

NaPoWriMo , or National Poetry Writing Month, is back!

NaPoWriMo is an annual project in which participants write a poem each day in April. It unfolds in the tradition of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, held in November) and motivates, inspires, and engages poets of all levels, genres, and backgrounds.

While a poem a day is your ultimate goal, there’s really no “right” way to participate. Start today and keep at it, and experiment as you see fit. Focus entirely on sonnets, or experiment with free verse. Participate on your own, or collaborate with others. Publish on your blog, or experiment offline.

Ideas to get started

  • Publish poems each day, focusing on a different genre each week.
  • Handwrite poems in a journal, for your eyes only.
  • Start a collective with others, plan themes for April, and publish poems on your own blogs focused on these themes.
  • Create a new blog or group site specifically for this monthly challenge.

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Last Words | Who Are You?

Image shared courtesy of The Dead Game by Susanne Leist

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This gravestone brings up so many thoughts:

Who was this woman?
Who chose her inscription?
Was it a last act of revenge from a spurned lover/spouse?
Were they the last words she wanted to be remembered by?

What comes to your mind when you look at it?
What would you like to be put on your gravestone when you die?

This gravestone had me contemplating what I would want inscribed to mark my place in this world.
Death is inevitable for every one of us but something that few of us like to contemplate. We are mortal beings but we fear our mortality. We focus on living in the here and now. But I wonder sometimes if we focused on how people would remember us after we die, if that would impact our choices and decisions.

How would you like to be remembered?

If I could choose one mantra to be remembered by it would be:

She lived and loved fearlessly.

The poem I would have as my last words would be:

~ the uncaged bird is set free ~

I can no more cage this poeme`
to trap my soul in earthly realms hollows my flesh
Poeme` is life fleshed into my Bones
A place where the intangible is material
A window through which the tears of God
break open the unseen cracks in a heart
A Love divine and Light surreal
is my heart free, my soul uncaged
the Bird of Poeme` soaring into the heavenly realms.

– Excerpted from my poem “Soul Wings”
© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

#CoffinHop|The Abandoned & The Disappeared…Dead Ends in #Poetry

Death’s Last Breath

Dust Devils dance a macabre dervish

Tumbleweed twists in torment

Image Courtesy of  Damien du Toit from Cape Town, South Africa
Image Courtesy of Damien du Toit from Cape Town, South Africa

Ghosts of the Disappeared stalk the streets of Death

Screams of silence fill the graveyard of the Abandoned

Images courtesy of weburbanist.com
Images courtesy of weburbanist.com

Gates creak open with unearthly screams

Come down to the Graveyard

Coffins spill their bone chilling secrets

Image courtesy of weburbanist.com
Image courtesy of weburbanist.com

All Hallow’s Eve draws near

The battle-worn stone sentries slumber

It lies waiting for the fire in the sky to die

The soft light seduces it’s midnight soul

Golden eyes filled with scorpions wait

It longs to drink the light, to swallow its darkness

Image courtesy of ghost2ghost.org
Image courtesy of ghost2ghost.org

Beware the lost Spirits

Slipping through the open spaces

Tread softly past their places of rest

Do not disturb the Abandoned and the Disappeared

Image courtesy of ghostvillage.com
Image courtesy of ghostvillage.com

The gargoyles screech their unbridled glee

The ravens cackle and call

The dragon forged in the fires of molten metal shatters

In its shroud of twisted metal a creature stirs

Deathly grey skin covered in bloody thorns

It lifts its heavy head and opens eye eons shut

Twin black crevices entrance me nearer

Image courtesy of travelcreepster.com
Image courtesy of travelcreepster.com

The twin crevices swallow my thoughts

This thing of death twists through my broken mind

Visions of desperate violence assail me

Strange unearthly places not yet forseen

This will be the place where my spirit flees

my place of death

Image courtesy of oddee.com
Image courtesy of oddee.com

Twisting its way through my thoughts

Its thorns tangle and tear at my deepest fears

The broken city shrinks into nothingness

The silence that drinks my dreams stalks me

ssshhh

a whisper, a  whimper

I stumble blinded into an empty classroom

Abandoned Classroom, Image courtesy of haikyo.org
Abandoned Classroom, Image courtesy of haikyo.org

The whimpering comes from the corner

I claw at my eyes desperate to see

The red mist lifts unveiling him

A boy, emaciated, shrunken yellow skin

He scratches at his gaping mouth, breath wheezing through in a whimper

The basket ball net twists tighter trapping his spirit

Suicide by basketball net (image courtesy of haikyo.org)
Suicide by basketball net (image courtesy of haikyo.org)

The witching hour draws near

The boy grasps desperately for me

His eyes pools of terror waiting to drown me

The anthracite sky parts, moonlight forms a ghostly finger

The rustling of pages makes me turn

A bible lies before me abandoned in the ashes

Image courtesy of haikyo.org
Image courtesy of haikyo.org

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”

The creature twists dementedly in my mind

Its thorns tear through my skin in desperation

Image courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com
Image courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com

Molten fire flows through my being

The creature shrieks until my ears bleed

The pages before me rustle again, I look down

“He will swallow up death in victory;and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the LORD hath spoken it.”

The liquid fire swirling in my being drowns the desperate creature

Its thorns tear an escape through my bleeding eyes

It leaves behind a trail of yellow mist and silence swallows its remaining screams

The veil of red mist lifts from my eyes, the room is filled with luminous moonlight

A small hand slips into my still bloody hand

The boy looks up at me, his eyes now flawless twin sapphires

He pulls me down, then whispers in my ear

“The battle is won

Death is destroyed

Lost spirits are free to rest”

He slips away with one last smile embraced in joy

My  head hits the ground before I know I have fallen

A crown of thorns lies next to me

The silence is broken by the sweet singing of Seraphim

I breathe my last breath

It is done.

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My spirits dances free of the caging skin and broken bone

I fly free on wings of eagles into the bright new dawn.

All Hallow’s Gate is closed.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

Image courtesy of http://catracalivre.com.br
Image courtesy of http://catracalivre.com.br

x

The CoffinHop has come to a dead end. But from death comes life and I know that Coffinhop has been a treasure chest of tricks, treats and inspiration.

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It has been my honour to share the #CoffinHop with you my readers.

It has been my honour to spend the time prying open the lids of broken coffins of the other coffinhoppers.

A special shout out to Axel Howerton for being our Master Guardian of the #CoffinHop boneyard once more. You Rock Axel! 🙂

Please remember that The #CoffinHop Anthology, Death by Drive-In is now AVAILABLE and 100% of all proceeds go to Litworld in support of Child Literacy. Help a child read. Let that child enrich the world with their stories. Click on the anthology image below for purchase links.

CoffinHop13AnthologyPromo

The Prize winner for my “The Abandoned & the Disappeared” contest will be announced on 5th November, 2013.

There are so many amazing entries that it is going to be a close call to call the winner. Thanks you to everyone who entered. Your words awed me. Each and every one.

Thank you.

Remember…

Tread softly past their resting places…

Do not disturb the Abandoned & the Disappeared.

InsideHauntedHouseCoffinHop13

Come to the Dark Side | Grand Launch #Poetry #BlogHop Starts Midnight 21stJuly

Welcome to the Grand Launch of The Kintsugi Poets Society

KintsugiBloghopButton

BlogHop ~ 21st July – 28th July

Theme – The Darkness

Broken Words Whispered in The Dark

To celebrate the launch of this new society of Dark Poets,

we are kicking off with a BlogHop Tour of Poetry

Poetry in its darkest and most terribly beautiful forms

Find the whisperings of broken words and dark spaces below.

Kim Koning

Jack Varnell

Kavita Rao

Amy Marshall

Andrew Drage

Anita Stewart

Ash Krafton

Caroline Adele O’Brien

Ellie Rose McKee

Irina Dimitric-Stojic

************************

Follow the Website

Tweet us on Twitter

Like the Facebook Page

Join the BlogHop event on FB

Add The Kintsugi Poets to your G+ Circles

kintsugiwelcome
Enter here to let the dark words of The Kintsugi Poets seep into your soul….

Come over to The Dark Side | A New Society of Dark Poetry

The Time has arrived for A New Society of Poets…

A Society of Poets who master the dark art of Kintsugi…

Calling all lovers of Dark Poetry…

Enter if you dare…

The Kintsugi Poets Society

kintsugipoets2

The time has finally arrived.
I can finally unveil this new society of poets
that celebrate Dark Poetry in all its terrible beauty.
We are launching the Society with a
Grand Launch BlogHop of Dark Poetry – 21st July – 28th July.
Come over to The Dark Side…
Enter if you dare…

Follow the Website

Tweet us on Twitter

Like the Facebook Page

Join the BlogHop event on FB

Add The Kintsugi Poets Society to your G+ Circles

kintsugiwelcome

Calling all Poets with a Dark Side

Attention: Poets with a Dark Side

I am starting a website community of Poets with a dark side.

***

Turning dark cracks & broken fragments into golden seams of poetry ~ A Society of Poets who can turn the dark edges, the cracked pieces and the broken fragments of their experience into the golden seams of poetry.
The poets I am looking for write their poetry with a dark slant, twist. The poetry can be metaphysically/literally/figuratively/emotionally dark. It can be themed to a genre – ie paranormal/horror/suspense or it can be personal struggles/pain.
***
This will be a community of shared poetry and eventually I would like to publish some poetry anthologies of the poetry shared.
I am recruiting members here.
If you are interested, please let me know in the comments on this post.
Expansion by Paige Bradley
Expansion by Paige Bradley
Sign up here...
Sign up here…

The Divine Orchestra | #FWF

Click on the Typewriter to find out more...
Click on the Typewriter to find out more…

Free Write Friday | Prompt

It was a dark and stormy night…fwf-darkandstormynight

Steam rises from the barren ground
Liquid sand boils in an earthen cauldron
Molten fire swims in a deep river
The air above the toiling caldron stills
Not a bird calls nor do creatures stir,

The waxen earth beats to an ancient drummer’s heartbeat
Nature’s choir hums a song of still serenity
The winds breathe and tremble a Beethoven sonata,

Air that stirs with a thundering Bassoon
Clouds gather and clash with clanging cymbals
Curtains drape the air in folds of darkness
The stage is luminous in a ballet of ethereal light
Ushered in a staccato of falling liquid notes

*Reposted for #FWF*

Soul Wings

If writing words are the Bare Bones of me,

then Poeme` is the ephemeral Soul of me

Bones are formed from dust

flesh out the form of my shadow

Poeme` the intangible core of my being

the breath of life to my shadow

Without the breath divinely inspired

I am but a lost thing having no heart, no core, no soul

My soul is not anchored in my flesh

but soars within the cage of my earthly body

This too is the beautiful tragedy of  Poeme`

Flesh pulls the oxygen from the air

my core pulls divine inspiration into streaming flight

~ the uncaged bird is set free ~

I can no more cage this poeme`

to trap my soul in earthly realms hollows my flesh

Poeme` is life fleshed into my Bones

A place where the intangible is material

A window through which the tears of God

break open the unseen cracks in a heart

A Love divine and Light surreal

is my heart free, my soul uncaged

the Bird of Poeme` soaring into the heavenly realms.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

#CoffinHop…Dead Ends in Undead Poetry

Click on the “EYE” to take you to my COFFIN HOP TRICK for a TREAT Prize Page…Enter if you dare…Enter or be scared….Contest ends at the Witching Hour (3am) 31st October 2012…(Contest has ended)

kim-coffin12

It is the Dead End of the Annual #CoffinHop. 2nd Year running and still my favourite Blog event of the year. It is a time of year when fears are bled out onto the page, where the horror that can grip us in daily life can be released. This is the last day, the DEAD END of the #CoffinHop. So hop around through the bone yard visiting all the other CoffinHoppers – *Click on the skull above to get to each coffin.* #CoffinHop is that time of the year when we can face our fears, admit them and then master them. It’s ok to be scared, it’s ok to feel fear…

Bravery is not the absence of fear, but the mastery of it. – John Berridge

Battleground

The soldiers are unseen

Camouflaged in skin

Their weapons are lethal

They are elements of torture

They have captured me

Stretched out on a rack

Every muscle screams in protest

Every muscle held in a vice-like grip of agony

My jaw is locked shut

My eyes are blinded as the blades enter

My mouth is slack with pain

My fists tied down, tightly clenched

The torture has only just begun

My body fights to find an inner strength

The needles pierce the back of my neck

I am held in place, too weak to struggle

I try to call out for mercy

I am ready to confess anything

The needles enter my skull

There are hundreds of them

The prison is too bright for me to see

Shadowy figures surround my body

Slowly I feel the needles draining my veins

I try to release the bindings on my limbs

They use my body as a pincushion

I have no more strength to fight

I can feel the weakness take over

My mind tries to fight, to shout

I open my eyes 

I stare into blinding white light

The needles in my skull blind me

Bile rises up from my empty insides

I search for the unseen enemy

These faceless soldiers dealing in torment

I open my eyes and see a figure before me

It looks familiar, a faint echo of disbelief

The reflection is myself

My very flesh the rack of agony

I lose hope, I lose the battle against my skin and bone

 My body is my battleground, my flesh the enemy torturing me

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Tell me do You CoffinHop?
x marks the spot where the spirits watch you from veiled shadows…
Don’t forget to enter my TRICK Haunted Flash Fiction for TREATS ENTER BY 3am 01/11/12
Enter if you dare…Enter or be scared…

Thank you for taking part in the #CoffinHop 2012…

Release

Life is not about Resistance,

Life is about Release:

Life is about Releasing the Past

To Embrace the Now.

Life is about Releasing the Lessons

To Embrace the Blessings.

Life is about Releasing the Sadness

To Embrace the Joy.

Life is about Releasing the Hate

To Embrace the Love.

Life is about Releasing the Bitterness

To Embrace the Forgiveness.

Life is about Releasing the Cocoon of Regret

To Embrace the Wings of Hope.

Life is not about Resisting your Heart,

Life is about Freeing your Spirit

To Embrace Life.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Christmas Spirits

 

Christmas Spirits

Twas the night before Christmas and as I lay down in bed I sent out a Christmas prayer.
“Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill my mouth.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
No, my Christmas wish is a touch, a kiss, a warm embrace, the whisper of my name on breath long disappeared.
My Christmas wish is for the living and the spirits to meet once more, even for a few hours.
My Christmas wish is to tell those that left me how I loved them and how I missed their presence in my life.
My Christmas wish is to hear the sweet tinkling bells of their laughter and to feel the warmth of their smiles.
My Christmas wish is to tell them that though their spirits now walk this realm and the next, their love remains alive in my heart.
Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.” As the moon disappeared behind veiled clouds of deep grey, I fell asleep with trickling rain dripping down my cheek.
It was not long and I heard a sound and felt a warm caress dry the rain’s tears from my cheek.
A voice bent down to my ear and whispered my name and I heard tinkling laughter coming from all corners of the room.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked to see what marvel had appeared in my room under the clouded sky.
There in a bed, covered up to the chin by a heavy blanket of death-white, lay a girl with a dried tear on her cheek.
Her hair was smooth and dark against the white of the pillow and her lips were bruised as if some kiss had longed to punish them.
I heard the tinkling laughter then and looked to my side and behind me.
There were ethereal specters there all around the bed of this lost girl.
The moon had disappeared but pale light shone through their shadowy forms.
I looked back at the girl wondering where I had seen her before.
One of these specters looked at me then for the first time and smiled a smile that embraced my soul in warmth and light.
The specter’s lips did not move but a low melodious sound came from him like a cello chasing the sound of light in a moonless night:
“We heard your Christmas plea little one. You did not ask for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
You did not ask for gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill your mouth.
Your Christmas wish was for the living and the spirits to meet once more.
So here we come, at your call and as you wished…all the spirits who loved you once and missed you long.”
But dear one the living must sacrifice life itself to walk with the spirits…Your sacrifice has been a tender gift for us this Christmas Past.”

Then he stretched out his hand and he touched mine.
I trembled in fear at his words and wished to take back my Christmas plea.
I had not wished to sacrifice life, what of all those I love this Christmas Present.
His hand went right through air and though I could feel his strong grasp, there was no hand to cling to in return.
I looked down again at the lost girl lying asleep in eternity and knew that my heart would ache to feel the tears of rain or light of the moon again.
No more endless sunshine nor cloudless skies for me. No earthly peace nor gifts of gold and silver.
No touch, no kiss, nor embrace, sweet laughter, nor whispers of my name.

These specters were only veils of what had been warm breath and soft laughter, shed tears and sweet memories.
The lost girl lay in bed as the clouded sky gave way to the all seeing eye of the morning.
All around I could hear carolers singing and in the house far away I could hear mother and father calling out “Merry Christmas.”
The lost girl did not stir. Christmas Eve had come and passed taking her with it.
I watched the two people I had once known as mom and dad come running in with gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets spilling forth from their embrace.
I saw the woman collapse to the floor before he could catch her and the sounds that poured forth from both pulled a veil over the sun, their misery was so great.

I knew then, looking at the ugly grief of the couple where I recognised that lost girl.
She had been this same specter once before when it breathed, laughed, hoped and loved.
I took one last glance at the lost girl and the grieving couple and I bent down and whispered my forgotten name in the woman’s ear.
She shivered at the sound of my whisper and glanced wildly around searching for that missing girl
I touched the man’s arm but he shook my touch off as if a cruel thing had pierced him.

The specter who had spoken so melodiously before beckoned me once more.
The other ethereal forms had drifted off as the moon had been swallowed by the morning.
He looked at me once again and his face showed pain so great and so forlorn:
“Come child, you are no more. Now you walk the realm with those who have gone before.”

Now I walk this realm and the next longing for a warm touch, a sweet kiss and shared laughter.
I visit all the homes of my loved ones each Christmas, silently coming in with the moonlight and leaving with the sun.
I am moonlight and stardust, wind and water but ancient spirit I remain.

Heed the wishes you make on Christmas night for twas a wish such as this that took my breath…
Heed the living and love the present for the realm of spirits leaves much to be attained…

Heed the Christmas wish that regrets the past, forgetting your gift of Now but love life lest you sacrifice it.

Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present keep your silence, the living seek you out…

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning