Sunday, July 31, 2011

The Standing Ovation Realization

A love-smitten guy was irate
when the gal refused him a date.
So he put on a mask,
dressed the part for the task;
she stood up and clapped with her mate.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations: Sunday Scribblings (standing ovation), Mad Kane's Limerick-Off

Standing Outside the Holy Fortress

I stand outside the fortress
a weed I sprout in fear
voices jangle, I try to hide
my head rattles ear to ear.

Have I lost my mind to think
the splinters would dissolve
how you pierced my heart again
a skewed image I can’t absolve?

And I was on my knees
and I was crying out to you
seeking redemption, forgiveness
within this tainted view.

A cloak I felt enwrap me
pick me up, carry me in
a vision I won’t long forget
the day you freed me from all sin.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations: Sunday Whirl and Poetic Bloomings

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Cooling Seduction

Whitecaps run parallel lines
to Mother Ocean's shore
I lie supine
sweet seduction
for salty tongue
to make its way
up steamy legs
teasing tastes
from ankle
to knee
to thigh
to hip
until I know she's done;
I watch her turn back
and head home.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: dVerse Poetics w/ Sheila Moore

Friday, July 29, 2011

Update from a busy life

Katie took time out from her dance routine to talk to her best friend who was on vacation. She's been taking intensive workshops in preparation for the year ahead (the first performance is next weekend). Oh, and she got braces, but shhh... I didn't tell you.

Andrew received first place in sparring AND form at the 2011 Tiger Rock World Championship tournament (that's after he skipped rank)!

Nicholas taking his mark for his swimming event. He also takes hip-hop and is preparing to perform again with his sister in August.

Pete at the bottom of a ship where he goes to escape the crazy life of having three kids, working full time and going to night classes for his MBA.

Disclaimer: All bragging rights are permitted because the sole proprietor of this blog just happens to be the proud mother and wife of the aforementioned subjects. She wishes to keep all pictures of her haggard-looking self buried in the bottom of her desk until they can be burned in the first winter's fire, so please respect her wishes and refrain from preposterious demands for such.

The Tragic Tale of Amber and Andy

Last night I had this laboriously worded story ready to post. In fact, I had saved and previewed it when on a sudden whim, I decided to switch the pictures around. Bad idea. I lost the whole thing. Here's my attempt to recreate the original piece.

Art by Margaret Bednar
Amber once was a colorful child who adored playing dress-up for tea parties and pretending to be Cinderella. She gently coaxed her twin brother, Andy, to play the part of handsome prince many times. They spent long summer days lost in another world, and during the school year they were inseparable.

As they grew older, Amber became what Andy called a "snapping turtle." She'd come out of her room, snap at the first person she crossed and then retreat back into her shell. Her once smiling face morphed into a pouty Angeline Jolie-type smirk. Whenever they were forced to come together, Amber called her little brother a "smelly oaf who couldn't even comb his own ratty hair." Once converged, the siblings drifted into a parallel relationship of animosity.
Image by Jinksy

Until the night they were forced to put their differences aside after an accident claimed the lives of their parents. Their car had careened off the winding mountain side into the ruthless water below. Through tragedy the twins discovered the bond they had formed as children was everlasting; it was the glue that held them together. Amber and Andy moved back into the cottage by the sea where they had grown up. Before long they retreated back into a simpler life of tea parties and fairy tales, the coping mechanism which eventually drove them to the rocky waves where they met their parents and lived together as a family forever more.

Prompt inspiration: Alias Jinksy

@laurie kolp

How Far Must We Go?

At times we crawled beneath the outer realm
As scavengers in search of revelence
Defying subtle guidance from the helm

We pushed aside the path of common sense
Colliding more than once with providence

Why does it have to end in tragedy
Before the light bestills humanity?

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: dVerse Poets

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Cartwheels With Sound Effects

Let gramma play with you.

Snap, crackle, pop
Oh, no I can't stop!

Kabam, crunch-crunch
The grass ate my lunch.

Clap, clap... whoopie!
Grams, you're still fun to me.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations: Poet's United Thursday Think Tank (grass) and Poetry Jam (life at 67)

A Relic's Kick

A letter was found in a trunk
All yellowed and sprayed by a skunk
The stench was so bad
Overpowered the sad
Archaic lost lover's debunk

@laurie kolp

Prompt Inspiration: Theme Thursday

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

How to Become Unattached

They met at the bistro for a tête-à-tête
a quiet corner within an alcove.
At first glance, you'd think them lovers
hands knotted, bodies interwove.

Until a fumble occured
wine splashed polka-dots everywhere
wild banter ensued from the couple
who scattered without time to spare.

Prompt inspiration: 3WW (banter, fumble, glance)

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Coloring Outside the Lines

In my head I paint a picture*
of how my life should be
who says what in this or that
situation... which never happens.

Anxiety forms a playground
where doubt and fear can spin
colors twirl and splash everywhere
a blob... no one understands.

Why worry about tomorrow
they say with nonchalance
you don't have to color
in the lines... let it go.

*from Amy Winehouse's "Valerie"

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: d'Verse, Carry On Tuesday

Monday, July 25, 2011

Unpeeling the invisible tape

I'm not one privy to conflict which is why, if one should occur, I usually sit back and watch. Sometimes I have to dig my hands underneath my legs or tape my mouth shut (because if I open it I usually stick my foot inside). Other times I feel compelled to voice my opinion, but do so with reluctance.

You see, I've lived most of my life caught up in this ridiculous fear of worrying what you might think. I'll turn the words I said, or wrote, over and over in my head as I play out each possible reaction. But I'm working on that.

Writing has helped tremendously. I have a voice to be heard with words to be understood when I write. I've gained courage to step out a little further, let my toes sink beneath the surface. And it feels good. 

This past weekend I watched/read in astonishment as words were slaughtered on the pages of a Facebook group I'm part of. Tempers ignited. Justifications and excuses flared. Others stepped into the tempest and expressed their feelings.

I was over here with the invisible tape and hand restraints.

Until today. I finally had had enough and decided to give my opinion. I did so without regret. I will not make lame excuses (such as a misfiring iPad). I will own up to my words.

And I will keep checking Facebook to see if anyone hit the 'Like' button.

Oh, well. That, my friends, is growth.

Carpe Diem

Freedom oscillates in and out of life
At times the stars are right at hand
So seize the moment when you can
Au naturel, unfettered make a stand

@laurie kolp

Prompt/picture inspiration: Magpie Tales

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Poetic Afflatus

marvel at the whir of clouds
creating your poetic spark
twist ideas through
scattered words
in the mind’s
blink a poem
is born
cast aside
rendered fear
reprehensible doubt
shadows self-esteem
opened curtains gild
a brighter view
so scan
your heart
and trust

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Sunday Whirl


Friday, July 22, 2011


Temptation bites

and I become the apple;
it, the worm

digging a hell path
in my God consciousness

self-will the intercourse
subjugating all morality.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration and photo credit: Poetry Jam

A kaleidoscope of hope lies within all of us

Picture by jinksy
Deception left her color blind. Too many times had she trusted humans and watched them succumb to society's egomaniac mentality. No more riff-raff would she allow. So she built a fortress around her emotions and became a prisoner to mundane nothingness.

Once upon a time she had waltzed through iridescent fields with a child-like innocence of goodness. Nothing could taint her view. It had been a series of stabs in the back that collected dust in her memory. Then one day, one stab too many, she exploded from color to achromatic blah; all the while relishing the kaleidoscope hidden within, a little spark of hope for tomorrow.

Inspiration: Jinksy

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Childhood Summer Memories, Part VII

                       Wasn’t it just yesterday
                     I rolled down the grassy hill
in your backyard like a baton
while you sat at the wrought-iron
table and clapped in delight?
I’d pop right up and gallop
back to your loving arms
then do it all over again.
Wasn’t it just yesterday
I strolled through the hills,
amazed at those rolling streets
so unlike the pancake where I lived?
Faster down than up I’d run
all the way to the concrete ditch
where I played with imaginary friends
until you called me back to your loving arms.
           Yesterday is a fingerprint in my heart and soul,
             your sweet memory lives in the words I write.

@laurie kolp

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Jiggles and Dimples

Early's thighs jiggled like Jell-O
as she stomped down the empty beach,
a matutinal stroll with quahogs and such
turbulence for those out of reach.

A pretermitted heiress
Early ballooned within a year,
declivitous her life's quality
in a dimpled derriere.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: 3WW (early, jiggle, quality), Poetic Asides (empty)

We Write Poems (use the dictionary):
matutinal- (adj) early in the morning
pretermit- ignore, neglect, overlook, or omit
declivitiuos- descending; downward slope
quahog- a thick-shelled, edible clam of North American Atlantic coasts

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

This Debt-Crisis Melee

Neither a borrower nor a lender be
lest you get stuck in this debt-crisis melee
where all the world's a vaudeville stage,
and though this be madness acting in rage,
jaws drop like flies worried eyes open wide
as the audience awaits the winning side.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Carry on Tuesday

Monday, July 18, 2011

Longing Am I

Insomniac am I
Nightly I face this demon
Spellbound, I count in tens
Ominous are your eyes of indigo
Melting my lips in this sensual dream
Never fulfilled, deeply mistaken
I miss your arousal, I
Awaken-- insomnia

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think TankPoetry Jam

Silent Death

At midnight the masquerade began
Revelers gathered in disquise
Unaware they were of deception
Hidden beneath shallow eyes

Until the time for pantomime
Death revealed her precious plan
Pandemonium broke out like acne
As chocolate waltzed with Chopin

@laurie kolp

Picture prompt inspiration: Magpie Monday

Saturday, July 16, 2011

We all have different perspectives

Painting by Jinksy
What do you see when you look at this painting? An autumn harvest of corn waiting to be picked and shucked just in time for the hoedown next Friday night? Fresh summer squash in the vegetable aisle begging for a healthy homemade meal? A field of daffodils or tulips daring you to touch them lest you upset nature's beauty? Rapeseed to be made into oils, but you best beware of their poisonous betrayal? The bright sun rising into the morning sky as you lie in the sand and observe?

How about cooling refreshment prepared with love at the lemonade stand where your child sits? After a thirst-quenching gulp of the best drink you've ever had, your lips pucker up from the tang. Someone calls you fish face and sets the ball rolling. Fits of laughter can be heard across the busy street as you pull up a lawn chair and join the summer fun.

That's what I see when I look at the picture.  For more perspectives, check out Alias Jinksy's Tandem.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Unwritten Instruction: Be a Sentinel

My youngest, Nicholas, when he was a precious toddler

Babies don't come with instructions
instinct becomes the driving force
to tend to, love, protect, nourish.

Tend to mustard poops, sour spit-up
with love that transcends all comprehension
protecting innocence, those kind eyes with trust
nourishing body, mind and spirit for a healthy future

because this out-of-body kind of love felt for a child
spans the cosmos with infinite stars reaching high
spreading salty air through vast oceans deep

to tend to, love, protect, nourish forever
instinctively knowing

Children don't come with instructions
but if they did, to be a sentinel
with an eagle eye
would be number one.

Protect our precious from drowning
enclose the pool with a safety gate,
watch them at all times--
they trust you.

Poet Inspiration: One Stop Poetry

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Not Alone in Loneliness

Peaceful solitude
or colorless seclusion?
Is happiness on the horizon
or is it an illusion?
My path, narrowed with age,
grows clear-cut and luminous.
For experience has shown me
I'm not alone in loneliness .

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think Tank

Flourishing hypocrite

Music is the lilt in my step, the spark in my eyes. I love it. Always have, always will. I like all kinds, even mild rap (never thought I'd say that), but my favorite is Top 40.

I remember when I was in college I had a professor who loved music. He said to really understand it, you had to get submerged in the rhythm and lyrics.

"Sit in the middle of the room with the volume turned up, speakers surrounding you. Close your eyes and let the melody flourish within your soul."

At the time, I was like WEIRDO! Don't get me wrong, I have loved tunes for as long as I can remember. But he spoke as if he were having a love affair with someone named Opus.

Now I understand what he meant. I get lost in music. I dissect the words and meaning. I feel it. After all, I AM a poet.

But I'm a MOM, too; and some of today's lyrics are t-rash-y. That doesn't mean I don't like those songs. It means I don't want my kids to hear the foul language and nasty words.

So when a song comes on with R-rated vocabulary, I simply change the channel.

"Why'd you change it, Mom? We like that song."

Guess what I do? I put the song back on, but I try to start a conversation to distract them before "the word, line, etc." comes up. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Then I do the unthinkable. I turn the volume down. Do you think they get what I'm doing?

They do. The other day I heard them talking about the whole thing while we were in the car as if I weren't there. I was busted.

My rebuttal: "Well, as long as you understand those are just words. They don't mean anything."

Sometimes you just have to be a hypocrite when you're a parent.

~laurie kolp

Read more at A Whitesnake's Bite Can Be Lethal

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Just Go With It

Why let indecision in your mind titillate
the need for precision obscuring one’s fate?
An angry swarm of bees buzzing through self-doubt;
the devil’s obstacle, not an option for debate.  

@laurie kolp

Prompt Inspirations:

3WW- indecision, option, fate

Poetic Asides- sound

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I'm a walking zombie with fried hair

Summer has peaked and, for many with kids home from school, so have the doldrums. But not in this house. At any given moment there are at least three different things going on all at once. My life is like a sign with arrows pointing in opposite directions. I look like a walking zombie with fried hair. And feel like one. Sometimes I even act like one. Let me tell you why.

First of all there's Katie. She dances and dances and dances. And sings. LA-lala-lala. Sometimes I think she's spinning out of control. Not only does she shuffle through the house, she does it in the library, at the grocery store, and wherever else she goes. She's in her own little world of music with her iPod and legs.

Poor thing has gotten so carried away that she has knocked over someone else's vase and set the chandeliers into double speed. Did I mention I have to drive her to dance several times a week?

Then we have Andrew. He's either glued to a video game or following me around testing my math and science knowledge. That's not up my alley.

"Why don't you ask Daddy? I'll help you write a story, though."

Back to computer he goes. But I do have to brag for a second. He went to that Math and Science Academy I told you about earlier. He was placed two grade levels higher than the grade he's entering (5th) and won first place for total points in his division. And he's pretty darn good at Taekwondo, too.

Okay, now Nicholas. He's my walking story teller. He follows me around and tells me some whoppers. Tonight it was about heaven. He said he's been there before. You know, before he was born. The longest you stay there is three years. And you better not make God mad or he'll turn you into a frog. If you do it twice, you're a skyscraper. When I get there, he wants me to ask God if I can be his mom the next time around.

"If I can make it through this one, honey."

Oh, and while all this is going on in our mad house, Pete is working and going to night classes. THAT is why I look, act, and feel like a zombie with fried hair.

From Rejected to Debonair

You pined away on me for days
Each word you chose meticulously
       Poring over precise meanings
       Pumping empathy into tone
A piano tuner with each note
Listening for off-pitch keys
       You named me and played me

 And then you submitted me

Days and months passed
No news, no sign; yet hope
       I sat unattended and ignored
       Missing your tender voice
I'd come home, you'd brag to friends
About how I made you proud

And then the letter came

I watched as you read the news
Another place, a different time
They said to try again- bullshit!
        I am a neglected misfit
       Go ahead and throw me away

But you still believed in me

You bathed me, trimmed me up
Matched and fit words to a tee
       You told me you'd keep trying
       To find a special spot deserving
       Of my finesse, suavity...
And now I'm debonair, one day you'll see

@laurie kolp

Inspiration: We Write Poems,  One Stop Poetry

Monday, July 11, 2011

Stealing Time for Love

Little I ask
my wants are few*
no money do I beg for
only time with you.

Is that enough
our love to feed anew?
Thy breath I feel upon my skin
let’s steal an hour or two.

@laurie kolp

Prompt Inspiration: Carry On Tuesday

*Little I ask, my wants are few: the first line of Oliver Wendell Holmes’ poem Contentment

A War of Sorts

Mingling in the wreckage
of past malfunctions,
they gather ubiquitously;
people with nothing
in common
the tumultuous warfare
growing in their psyche.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration and photo courtesy of Magpie Tales Monday

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Speaking Through Words

This week's Sunday Whirl words

In a world of twisted logic, I thought
perhaps my words might make a difference
for should we not help others going through
the same things? The poem spoke to me, told
me to share my past difficulties through buzz
words; the depression, the skewed perception,
the self-hatred perpetuated with drowning
dependence on food, drink, men. To get that
low and rise above; why resist my instinct?

To get that low and rise above; why resist
my instinct? It’s not a crazy whim or hiccup,
it’s the hope-filled promise that others too
can make it through the strong river currents
of life. At times I cry; peeling away those
thick layers of onion can be emotional. I once
fluttered through tough times with a big smile,
but I carried a clutch under my belt. Now I
can walk through the pain, meet my Higher
Power galloping through peaceful silence and
telling me to write down in words who I am.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations: Sunday Whirl, Poetic Bloomings

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Childhood Summer Memories, Part V: Synchronized Swimming

It was a time when underwater tea
parties and games of Marco Polo
motivated energetic kids on hot
summer days, long hours were spent
cooling off in swimming pools with
friends. I was there most days
playing along, except during camp.
Then I was a ballerina swimming
through the chlorinated water,
a naiad in her natural element.
Laying flat and moving my hands
in quick figure eight motions, I
floated atop the glassy surface.
Others beside me did the same;
lined up we looked like sardines
in a metal can. Yet we pointed
our toes and lifted our legs
performing adagios, battements
and pliés on our liquid stage,
swam as dolphins in underwater
circles and fancy flippy tricks  
as the coach counted beats from
the sidelines swapping horseflies.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam and Poets United

Click here to read another piece on summer camp (revisiting the Rocky Horror Picture Show)... I've added pictures since I first posted.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

A Succubus on the Carousel

Melodious imaginations come to life
lights convert to stars that shine
sanguine trances bequeath pure souls
horses' prances quell heart's dances--
a vanilla treat for all who climb aboard.

Backwards walking on the carousel
staunch rebellion her course of choice
an ivory-face hole in the cloak of night,
she is a succubus on the prowl
drooling at the mouth in longing need

while all the Caylee Anthonys
innocent children lost in reverie
have faith life's ride will move forward.
They laugh and play on the merry-go-round
until she picks her victim and strikes.

Dreams shatter, death ensues
and she walks with lies she hides inside.


@laurie kolp

Published for language/place blog carnival issue #8, 7-22-11

Inspiration and picture: Theme Thursday

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

From Words in a Dictionary

What you see
What we see

We found you lurking in the shadow of our words,
sycophants swallowing their own reflections;
yet in the confining recesses of the folds
where we live, an ongoing competition ensues.
Vying for selection, we decorate our meanings
with elusive verbiage. We watch as searching
eyes become airport scanners with not an inch
to spare, hoping that maybe this time we’ll pass
the test and leave a legacy for ambiguous intent.  

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poets United's Thursday Think Tank, Alias Jinsky Two in TandemPoetic Asides

Will the Heat Ever Cease?

Heavy air stifling hot
Every breath a taxing chore
As like a nasty summer cold
Toppling nerves crash to the floor

@laurie kolp

Prompt Inspiration: 3WW- cease, heat, nasty

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Who needs fireworks to have a blast?

They say there's a first time for everything; last weekend definitely made the list. We celebrated the
long Fourth of July weekend at the lake with family (Pete's brother, Chris; my sister-in-law/best friend/sister, Chelsea; nephew Ricky, who's 14; and baby Jonathan). Here are some notable firsts I observed during our four-day stay.
1. Katie, Andrew and Nicholas got to spend more time than they ever have with Ricky and Jonathan. They all got along so well. Ricky lives in another state with his mom. He stays for a month every summer and visits on rotating holidays. I guess we never thought of anything beyond day trips. Everything changes when a baby enters the picture.
2. Which leads me to the next first: Jonathan had never been swimming before our trip. He's had ear tubes placed in his ears so he has to wear plugs in the water and be very careful. We made sure he didn't get too wet, but he still had a great experience in the pool. Jonathan loved splashing and floating in the cool water.
3. After our first trip to the pool, Nicholas went out to the porch without a shirt on. He came back in like a boomerang, crying at the top of his lungs. He'd been stung by a wasp for the first time. Four days later and he still has a red whelp the size of a lipstick kiss.
4. The lake house where we stayed has a deck you can fish from. An alligator lurks beneath it waiting for marshmallow treats. The owners have named it Gucci. I'd never been within ten feet of an alligator.

5. Pete and Ricky went kayaking for the first time. To the left we could see Gucci, to the right daredevils. Then the brothers Pete and Chris had fun scaring their wives while paddling too close to Gucci for comfort.
6. The bigger cousins went on a hayride together. We were driven all through the Retreat at Artesian Lakes. I was able to get many beautiful pictures within this hidden getaway.
7. Fishing was a main attraction for many of us. We enjoyed nabbing fish of all sizes and then tossing them back into the lake. On the day we left, Pete and Chelsea both caught whoppers.
For the first time since I can remember fireworks were banned in most of the counties surrounding Southeast Texas. Who needs them anyway? We had a blast.

A Worried Whirl

Summer cleared the path for those in pursuit
fading in the distance as the boys took their mark.
Mine flew over the hurtles like a racehorse,
his long limbs reaching with each forward step.
Dry flecks of freshly mown grass turned
and churned all around as dirty feet
tossed and flossed the greens.
I watched from the front window
as he slipped out of my view--
all I saw was the baby he used to be.
Could his foot be kicking my gut?
Was the siren just my worried mind?

@laurie kolp

Prompt/ wordle inspiration: Sunday Whirl
Posted at Poets United as well.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Come On

Wheat Field with Rising Sun, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889
A colorful land
Let freedom ring
For peace to bring
Together dispel
Bickering, unrest
Opposition to test
One country
Let's be

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Magpie Tales

Saturday, July 2, 2011

From Peace to Chaos

A tranquil retreat--
on glassy water diamonds shine
birds, katydids, frogs sing
"Gucci" the alligator lurks
"Mr. Turtle" paddles doggy-style.
He finds a target, this angry wasp
and in a split second
lands on fresh, juicy skin
Tears are a waterfall,
peace becomes lost in chaos.

@laurie kolp

Linked to Poets UnitedPoetry Potluck

Friday, July 1, 2011


He clipped his toenails
on our first date
as I drove us to dinner.
He propped his feet
on the dashboard
turned to me and said,
“Do you mind?”

He flossed his teeth
while we watched TV,
flecks of food flew
from his mouth
and got in my eye.
I turned to him and said
“Do you mind?”

But the sex was great.


@laurie kolp/ November 2009

Poetic inspiration~ One Stop Poetry: Post a poem written before 6-30-10