My Poetry

Painting: Intimacy, by Mitch Barrett

Poetry: Intimacy and the Harlequin Dance

by Kaye Lynne Booth

Displayed in 2010 at Kaleidoscope Gallery

in Battle Sea Park, London

Intimacy and the Harlequin Dance

 

We dance through the masquerade of life

Disguised to fit the music

Of so many different melodies

That at times, we forget which tune

Holds the heartstrings of who we really are.

Then one day, we find the perfect dance partner.

But to attain the perfect rhythm

We must open ourselves up and reveal our souls.

Intimacy requires that we relinquish the mask

To expose the genuine self that lies beneath.

After all the years of dancing to false tunes

Will we be able to keep time

To the genuine dance and the original rhyme?

Or shall we don the mask once more and continue to

Keep time to the false melody of the Harlequin dance?

 

First published in Dusk & Dawn Magazine 1996

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First published in Colorado Life Magazine (September/October 2016)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yucca! Yucca! Yucca!

Kaye Lynne Booth

 

They spatter the open mountain meadows

Like snow white spears reaching up

Above the tall grasses

Worshiping the sun.

Soft white flower spikes

Contrasting razor sharp spines.

The porcupines of the plant world.

Waiting, waiting for autumn winds

To dry their flower stalks into husks

That whisper the rattle of their name

First published in Manifest West #5: Serenity and Severity, Literary Anthology by Western Press Books (2016).

 

Sun and Shade

Kaye Lynne Booth

Wildflowers spray bright

Splashes of colors

In a sea of brilliant greens.

 

At the pump, my arm pistons the handle

Up and down until it

Spews forth its cool, fresh water.

 

A bouquet of butterflies

In orange, yellow and blue fill the air

With their brilliantly fluttering petals.

 

A woodpecker appears

From an unseen hole

And takes flight.

 

At the bridge, the river’s roar

Fills the air, moisture glistening from

The delicate strands of an intricate spider’s web.  

 

The sweet coolness of

The shade is refreshing to

 My sweat-drenched skin.

 

Here the sun is only seen in patches

That the canopy of trees

Allow to penetrate these depths.

     

Rocks are carpeted

With grays, browns and oranges of rough lichens

And greens of soft mosses. 

 

I recline in the

Soft, cool grass

Listening to the distant water. 

A spider dropping from a tree           

On its silky thin thread startles me,

Reminding me that it’s time to go. 

First published in Colorado Life Magazine (July/August 2018)

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