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
(43)
About Me
- karen lyons kalmenson
- greetings! i have managed to incorporate my eternal woodstock nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga...waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. sketching, watercolor painting,poetry and photography are my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance.
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