Moody Monday (A Discord Between Sisters)

A Discord Between Sisters


I have been understood and misunderstood.

I have done the same.

I’m not sure how to fix any of it

It certainly cannot be changed.


People suggest;

“moving on” or “going from here”

But that does not fix the hurt

or change the memories.


I think you must accept the hurt

and forgive the lack of understanding.

Revisiting old wounds

does no good.


Strive to do better,

be better.

That is my promise.

That is what I will do.



Moody Monday (once upon a rhyme)

once upon a rhyme


twinkling little star

i see you shine

so bright i do


jumping silly cow

up over that moon

i’ll jump too


hey little kitty

don’t forget your fiddle

play a tune for me


up above this world

it is so very high

i’ll run away with you



Moody Monday (Strike First)

Strike First

The Intruder is here,

 Dawn breaks.

I strike first!

Fast and true.

It reflects then screams.


I hit high then low,

But I am met blow for blow.

Hand to hand combat,

The hours’ flow.

The sun recedes, the sky turns mean.


We move,

  Figures in the dark. 

Dancing wildly,

Until I plummet.

Into the abyss.


I wake at dawn.

The Intruder is here,

I struggle but strike first!

Fast and true.

Pain reflects then screams…



Moody Monday (Visitors)



Leaves were falling

the air crisp,

pain palpable

Anger pushed forward.


Winter brought snow

one tear fell,

another broke free.

The sadness of it all.


Its name is Grief

it asked to stay.

I agreed,

but only for a little while.


Cardinals sang in the spring

I met Surrender,

Grief bid me farewell.

Only Surrender and I remain.


Moody Monday (Masquerade)



a part to be played

I thought it amusing

no deciphering this gala

no riddle to be solved


attendance sublime

dancers seductively pursuing

magnificently masked sensations

suspended in perpetual animation


abruptly the music is silenced

masks floated to the floor

this masquerade is over

deceptive faces failed




Moody Monday (Mystic)



born in a storm

the night mystic

of no one


visiting this world

waiting for her reckoning

the call will come



the calculation near

she faces Fear


the night mystic

deemed blameless

transcends from this world



Does Anyone Ever Get It … Bojana Did!

Does anyone who does not have fibromyalgia ever understand what it’s like to have it? I believed not. I felt people tried! However, after reading this poem from Bojana, I must withdraw my statement, “In order to get fibromyalgia, you must get fibromyalgia.” Not only has this wise woman had to take on the language of a country foreign to her, but she has also taken on trying to understand this disease that I have. Bojana, you are a true friend. Your words dance in front of me with understanding and accuracy of tripping over the stone that is fibromyalgia. Thank you for proving me wrong. You get it.

You may read Bojana’s incredible poem here.




With the utmost respect and thanks, my friend. ~Kim

Moody Monday (The Knocking)

The Knocking


she left him once

the radio singing her back

but she drove on

the phone chirping his frequent calls


she left a note

baby i love you but i do not love what you do…


he disbelieved

he raged

how dare she

never again will she


for three days

she held out

sorrow her only friend

until they talked again


she returned to him


revisiting their dreams

the infestation left quietly unaccounted for


the knocking

knock knock knocking…

began again

he let go of his soul


she saw it 

heard his lies

looked past his vacant eyes

viewed the obsession that was his life


she can’t take on the road again

but she won’t answer

the knock just gets louder

knock  knock  knocking…





Moody Monday (My Days)

My Days


My days dissolve

one bumping into the next,

a struggle ensues.


I try to stand clear

but my heart engaged,

 an ambush of time.


I split in two.


Today materializes as a memory

tomorrow never arrives,

out loud.


I wait for anyone

to appear,

and exorcize my fears.



Memorial Day (My Brother, My Soldier)

My brother passed away on the United States Army Base in San Antonio, Texas, at the Brooke Army Medical Center on August 18, 2003. He was 37. He loved the Army, serving his country…



My Brother, My Soldier


We are so far from home,

he and I.

Engulfed in a land so foreign to us,

a city within a city. 


At times he is stubborn

and full of mischief,

teasing and laughing

the brother I know.


There are times when he is reflective,

speaking as if

communicating with

I would guess, the Divine.


He is so thankful for the help he receives 

and so apologetic when he is in need.

He loves and hugs all who are near,

Only they and I experience the fear.


His body tires and his eyes close,

he puts his hand in mine.

I wait silently for him to wake,

and I greet him with a smile.


I tell my brother he is a good soldier.

I tell my brother I love him so.

I tell my brother God is with him.

I tell my soldier it is okay if he is called to go…


k.Lynel (2003)




Moody Monday (Emma Blue)

I will try my best to explain…

I have had a nickname since high school, my friends began calling me Emma. (Long story.) Many of you know I wish my name was C.C. Rockefeller but we don’t always get what we want. C.C. Rockefeller would be the confident, smart ass, public persona part of me. (FYI: I don’t have nor have I ever been diagnosed with multiple personalities but I do respect those who have.) The part of me who is Emma is the best friend, the listener, the compassionate one.


Emma Blue is just the best parts of me, all rolled up into one. I love that she has no fear. She could care less what others think and is never one to turn down a challenge! She is fun! She is who I long to be.



Emma Blue

is that you?

Once she’s here

I disappear.


She is laughter

and revelry!

She is sunshine 

and the moon.


Emma Blue

it’s your turn.


I need to laugh

and feel the sun.

I want to dance

under the smiling moon.


Emma Blue

I call…

Once she’s here,

I can disappear.




Moody Monday (Dark is Life)

Dark is Life


sometimes I feel the end is near

how unreal I feel

yet no sorrow is maintained

only peace not pain


sometimes I feel my heart start to cry

I reach to dry the despair I feel

yet no answers have I found

only knowledge of an end


sometimes I feel light on my face

but darkness succeeds

death is dark

dark is life


sometimes I feel like ending it all

of reaching the light

of healing my heart

but dark is life




(Originally written in 1987. I attended three funerals of relatives in close succession. After the third funeral, I wrote this and burnt my ‘funeral’ dress ~ hoping to stave off any more funerals, I was 18. There, of course, have been many more funerals over the course of 30 plus years. I recently attended two funerals in one week and felt this was fitting to publish. I doubt I will be burning any clothes.)