There are moments,
A scream buried
deep inside begins
rising to the surface
Push it back down, steady-
Letting it out would
surely be unpleasant
Why is it there, anyway?
Big picture, I am ok
Still, frustrations pile
one on top of another
and another, attempting
a coup inside my brain
Truth is, their power is limited
One tangerine sky at the
end of a cool Spring day
and my heart instantly
returns to the helm
And that scream?
It dissipates in a single breath
I’m happy to share my poetry collection, The Space Between Clouds, is now available!
If I were a kite
I’d lean against
My favorite oak tree
Enjoying the shade
and the company
Waiting for a breeze
to lift me high
So I could fly
above the trees
Arms flung open wide
Gliding and giggling
Taking in the beauty
below, offering patches
of shade for the tree
before floating over to you
You, standing straight
and tall in the middle
of a flowery meadow,
holding steady to the handle
If I were a kite
You’d be my lifeline
Days are long, but
Years are short.
Or so they say
That all elusive “they”
Who receives entirely
too much credit in our
passing days and years
I want to walk,
no, meander,
down a dirt path
Trees on both sides
Transformed into
a shady canopy
Listening to the breeze
Listening to the birds
Stopping only for a
Single ray of sunlight
Peeking through the leaves
To paint a picture
in the dirt just for me
No thought of days,
years, maps, or lists
Only the temporary
Becoming the eternal
I wrote this poem in a recent in-person poetry circle. Listening, reflecting, and writing with this group was a breath of fresh air. Highly recommend! 💛
I saw a hand
in the sky today
Powerful and strong
Open and inviting
Formed from clouds
while holding clouds
Its blue-gray edges
Lined in bright sunlight
I imagine sitting
safe in its palm
Reclining, at least
for a moment
No worries of
Hatred or war
Sickness or death-
Not ignoring
Only briefly resting
Cradled in the hand
I cannot fully understand
Believing it is there, reaching
Little feet and legs move
Slower…slower…slower
Each step, exaggerated
A game of pretend
The truth inadvertently
revealed, in a mischievous smile
Two tiny hands carry
a glass bowl, carefully
Until, at long last, reaching
A stronger, older set of
hands, patiently waiting
Hands, ready to receive
Willing to share
the weight for
as long as needed
I think there is
a lesson within
this pretending
Carried, offered, received, reclaimed
What feels heavy in
Your hands, my hands,
Your heart, my heart
May feel lighter in the
and heart of another-
The opposite is also true
A quiet notion nudging
us toward a readiness to
cheerfully share the weight
Please enjoy the following preview from my upcoming poetry collection, The Space Between Clouds, available March 15, 2026!
DON’T LISTEN
Soft, wispy feathers
graced the sky today
Beautiful against the blue-
I quietly asked,
Where did you come from?
A lovely swan
gliding on the water
The wings of an angel
offering comfort-
All these lovely thoughts
But then…that voice
What is wrong with you?
Those are just clouds
with scientific names
Perhaps you should
do some research…
Humph-no, thank you!
I’ll keep looking
for soft, wispy
feathers, floating
against the blue
With pinpointed laser focus,
I move through a tunnel
of my own making
Eyes staring straight ahead
Everything in my periphery,
blurred
Just make it
to your destination
Tensions will ease
Where am I heading,
anyway? I forgot to remember.
The tunnel walls concealed
my dazed distraction, creating
a false sense of direction
toward a desired destination
Or whatever it is I’m seeking.
Peace? But peace is not a destination.
Peace shines through a single ray of sunlight
piercing the clouds to my right
Peace sings with the birds playing leapfrog
on the power lines to my left
Peace smiles as I exit the tunnel
Opening my eyes and my heart
to this great big beautiful world
A poem and a few songs for you, dear friends. Much love-Kelley ❤️
Are my hands open,
gently reaching?
Arms linked
in cooperation
Ears open to
understanding
—Or—
Are my hands clenched
into tight fists?
Arms stoically held
across my chest
Ears closed,
even to my own voice
I have choices-
And my choices
offer clues as to the
health of my heart
May my hands remain open
My arms graciously linked
And my ears, intent on listening
Piano Girl 