I have no hearth, no steady hand
My name is karen no man’s land
I have no place to call my own
Just A house that is built on arid loam
I walk the world, intoxicated
All alone, and isolated
Looking for a place to run
But finding that there isn’t one
Not even sand will accommodate
No place to rest my
Weary pate
Sunday, May 9, 2010
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2010
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May
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- we bow
- my most recent published poem 5/31
- gemology
- RIP easy rider
- passion
- oyez
- memorial day...to be published on that hallowed da...
- do not let anyone devalue you
- as a child
- to be
- dear world
- should i
- dejas, voux?
- quicksand
- pleas
- pas de jour
- our planet is a living entity. it teems with life,...
- the firefly
- prayer
- i feel
- there was a flower
- a spectre
- i want to float
- pacem
- ned the elephant, who had to wait until the end of...
- the beauty
- feliz cumpleanos
- naissance
- faith
- mal de mer
- to end?
- karen no man's land
- what is a mother?
- for you
- marriage vows in the 21st century narcissist era
- how can i
- lady bug
- show me the way
- my shameless take on lewis carroll's jaberwocky
- halter
- drill baby NOT
- dawn
- the earth
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May
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About Me
- karen lyons kalmenson
- I am a proud senior, forever hippie, who has incorporated the peace and love vibe into the technosphere of the 21st century. Gratitude and love of all beings is what I live for and how I live. My husband and I are guardians of pteribird in heaven and magic Mikey a special needs senior parrot, whose intelligence and love is beautiful and humbling. Blessings
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