Sunday, October 11, 2015



My forays into creative writing can now be found on my WordPress site of the same name: In Linden Hills 


I've edited a number of poems prompted by Magpie Tales, for the better I hope. I hope to see you there!





Thursday, October 8, 2015

The Distance

 Jacek Yerka, 2011
[Mag 288]

The Distance

When she slips her wakeful thoughts
and they fall to the floor –
I set her adrift to float the night

She is unaware
I am the keeper of longings.
Nightly, I place them under her head,
furtive and hopeful

To the east, sun pools on a table
where he opens his morning papers and makes
   them smooth. His palms press a cup of tea, and steam
       travels along his chest, his neck, his chin, his mouth.

Eyes downward, he places on the vast water between
them a simple dream: Here she is awake, with him,
and he wanders tender slopes and sudden valleys
         that invite him to stay.

I will moor these imaginings
   on her pillow when it has once again cooled.


- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5


Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Relationship status

Gerritt Photography
[Mag 287]

"It's complicated."

Click.

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5


Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Nightfall


KAREN KILIMNIK
MY WALK BY MY WOODS – EARLY EVENING – FULL MOON, 2007
WATER SOLUBLE OIL COLOR ON CANVAS
30,5 X 23 CM
Nightfall

“Faith sees best in the dark.”
~ Kierkegaard

Darkness slides in.

Curled on wild thoughts,
you see light in a distant
window, hear pots clang
in someone's  kitchen.

You feel for a candle.

But the darkness lifts your arms,
moves about your knees,
and softens your gaze.

It uncurls your fingers,
and in your palm, it
places a mystery

You begin to see
the dark curves unfold.
You remember.

                                        The doe moves
                                        along a moonless
                                        trail, shy and
                                        hungry. She makes
                                        her way quietly.

                                        Without warning,
                                        the path opens.
                                        Another has been here,
                                        has pressed the wild
                                        grasses down, warmed
                                        them like a nest.

                                       Ringed by whispers
                                       in the dark trees,
                                       she can close her eyes.

This is not how you stay safe.

This is how you survive.


Kathleen Kimball-Baker – September 2015

All mine






















All Mine

Tempting, isn’t it, that last slice?
Here is how you take it:

Forget the fork
You will only need your fingertips

Lift the sweetness slowly
and warm it with your breath.
This takes time.

Next, set your teeth around the soft middle
and bite gently, rolling the flavors in your mouth
like a wave

Savor               and swallow

But see that a
few crumbs find
the corners of your
lower lip and stay put —


Those bits are mine.

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r ,  A u g u s t  2 0 1 5

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Unfinished



[Mag 286]

 Pose me as you did
            the night we stole inside
the swelling moon,
            the night my hair came loose and we
            polished off a bottle,              
dark and full.

How we fooled that dim morning
leaving damp traces
            for all the world to see
                        and not a soul to know.



- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5


Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Starter home


[ Mag 285 ]

Together, they thumbed
page after page through
the hefty catalog
until they found the one.

“Yes, that’s it! Perfect!”
They selected furniture, too.

The price was certainly right.
Shipping, however, made
no sense-until the package
arrived. They laughed till
their sides ached.

And they saved it
as a reminder never to
take themselves too
seriously. And then they 
laughed some more.

You see, they had missed
one tiny detail:


“Toy”

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5

Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Earth-Bound


One,
     the North Star,
             keeper of the evermore
Another,
     the Perseid,
           A constant sailor on the Neverwas
And I
        I offer my empty hold,
               and roll the dice of nevermore,
Who, I ask,
       will take me home
                and ink my name on the spiral night?

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5


Image: Hitesh Chhabra at Pixoto