Authority Poem PAD April 19th 2015


As kids we tried to hurry up the months

until our birthday, Christmas, Halloween,

or summer. Rolling cars around a track,

we dreamt of driving, smoking, looping arms

with lovers, flying planes or drinking beers

like on TV. We grew and drove to work,

had dates, made plans, had kids, and bought a house

with shutters, flower beds and grass to mow.

We shopped and watched the soccer games, still quaffed

a cold one with our friends, but some had moved

or lost a limb while others lost their hair.

We grabbed our chins and cursed the glass that showed

us lines or creases. Parents died, we ached

for time–– just months or days, oh please! The clock

won’t stop, it drives us now, the pedal to the floor.

Kim King ©2015

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Science Poem PAD April 16, 2015

Reality Star

Lying on my back, the damp

grass tickled arms and legs

as my father pointed out

summer constellations. Draco

the Dragon, Andromeda,

Cassiopeia and Ursa Major

emerged from a black canvas

when he traced lines with his finger

between pricks of light. I studied

mythology, followed Orion in winter,

marveled at chartreuse aurora borealis

flames, the Perseids Meteor shower,

a comet, and the eclipse of the sun.

Astronomer, I planned, poking one eye

into a telescope at the moon’s craters,

until middle school math and science

courses broke the lens and sent me

back to earth to repair my career

optical illusion with refracting glue.

Kim King©2015

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Two Vowels (AE) Poem PAD April 18, 2015



A message sent:

Please mend my heart


tape and sew edges

200 yard thread 99cents


eye needle stabs flesh


trace specks smear

weave sampler tapestry


hangs patched

a remedy salve


Kim King©2015

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Adjective Poem PAD April 15th, 2015


Magnolia blossoms open blush petals––

teacups poised on outstretched

hands, waiting for Nephelae to steep

and pour oolong or Earl Grey

into painted porcelain. Drops spill

and roll off leaf saucers, staining

the linen tablecloth. We smell rain.

Kim King © 2015

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Swing Poem PAD April 17th 2015

Swinging Doors

Slam! The pine door banged

close for the last time, but I turned

too late to see your boots

walk away––a cowboy, Stetson secure,

who pushed open the louvered saloon

half doors in a old black and white western

while the piano tinned, glasses clinked

and smoke wafted into the street

behind jingling spurs that vanished

in shadowy monochrome dust.

Kim King©2015

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Confession Poem PAD April 13th, 2015

Demeter’s Confession

The cypress trees protect the wall from wind

that pushes with both arms. The dust, a sprite,

who whisks a layer on the table, tiles,

and bench, removes the leaves from beds where sprouts

are poking through the soil. She walks into

the grove, head bowed, hands folded, eyes inside

her thoughts and prays outloud at Hades’ door.

He slides the screen, absolves her sins, then slams

it closed again. With penance paid in full,

her daughter transports spring to earth. Amen.

Kim King © 2015

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Damage Poem PAD April 12th, 2015


She slices through skin, her wrist

immobile, hand turned upward, blood

runs black from iron, drops stain

towels that soak up her youth. Ghost

at love, shy in school, pain


by pain that numbs her pain–––

a cycle she repeats daily. Knife

ready on the sink, just in case.

Kim King © 2015

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