Poetry By: K.Poet


{Halloween} {The year was 1987} {Chicago Snowstorms} {Cedar Swing}
{Crushing}
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Halloween



 { "Today is October 3, 1977.  It is the first Monday of beautiful October.
This is the month of Halloween."  My mother found this poem she stated wrote
as a child and decided to give it to me April 21, 2002.  Shocked and honored
to receive this lost writing, I display it for you now.  This to me, this is
the greatest act of kindness; my mother has ever shown me.  Receiving this
priceless piece of my childhood touched me deeply not only as an artist, but
as her daughter.  It has been a long journey for her to come to the
realization that people are born into the universe without instruction
manuals.  One should not be molded into an image of another's perception.
This is illogical.  One should find virtue and happiness within one's own
unique life pattern without alteration, or desecration of one's self-being,
or that of another.  The hardest thing to do in life is to live it.  That is
a daily challenge for the human soul. Living consists with the heartbeat of
life patterns that are an invisible woven structures connecting the body,
spirit, and mind of humanity working as a collective, yet displayed as
individual talent, and knowledge to be shared and learned from.  Some things
are left to be a mystery, that's the whole point.  Things are what they seem
to be.  It's just that simple. Thank you Carol Johnson for this precious
gift, may you know how much this truly means to me.   It is my hope that you
live the rest of your life enjoying happiness with one of the most gentle
spirits Karla and I have the privilege of knowing as well as loving: Al
Johnson.  }


Halloween  {Dedicated to Carol Johnson}

The moon is
Round as a
Jack-o-lantern-
The tree blows
Black and bare-
And
We go creeping
With spooky giggles-
Through the chill ghostly air-
Whose shadow is
That on the
Haunted ground?
Who's hiding
Behind that tree?
Oh!
Down the street runs
My bad black kitten-
And
The shadow is
Only me.

Kimberly A. Blanchette 1977




{The year was 1987} {Chicago Snowstorms} {Cedar Swing} {Crushing}{top of page}

 

The year was 1987

The year was 1987  {Dedicated to Dawn Bianco Pedersen}


The year was 1987
Spring-
Graduation-
"Great Balls of Fire"
Played on
My tape player-
From
The classic movie soundtrack
"Stand By Me."
It would be
Years later
Until I
Would finally
Figure out
What that meant.
Fox Lake
And
Grant Community High School
Dissolved into
Chicago's concrete creations
Columbia College-
Skyscrapers-
Gunshots-
Culture-
And
Change...
Change that would
Replace
A Small town track team
Conference medal-
Powder puff football games-
And
Red and white
Face paint-
Change that would
Replace
Fast food uniforms
Meaningless double dates-
And
Skinny-dipping
In the moonlight behind
Vacation Village
In what
Friends and I called
"The Lake of Truth"-
Change that would
Finally replace
Izod shirts-
Always
Izod shirts
Worn in layers
Like me-
Never revealing
All-
No
No more-
Silver Lake daytrips
No more-
Ford LTD speeding tickets
No more-
Sweaty bulldog mascot costume
For "Ms. School Spirit"
To suite up in
No More-
Local folklore legends
To test
Like:
The Hairy Man of Sunnyside Road
Or
Mysterious Bull Valley Rumors
To find truth in
And
No More-
Parent to be frightened of...
"Great balls of Fire"
Played on
My tape player
The day
I left
High School-
And
I
Would have
No idea
That I
Would see
That poster
"Stand By Me."
In
Her
Dorm room-
A shoebox room-
Filled with photos
Of
Friends and family
And
A
Black and White
Calendar
Of
Ansel Adams-
Her name:
Dawn Bianco
Things are not always
Black and White-
The year was 1987-
Fall-
Columbia College of Chicago-
The Herman Crown Center-
Lake Michigan
Begged for my visits
Between
My art classes
And
Chaos-
At times
I
Was one
With that lake
It
Became a sea
To wash my thoughts away
Concerning
The man from West Point
To whom
I was to marry
And
My unquenchable desire for
An Italian woman from Chicago's suburbs
To whom
I was intrigued by.
Michael Papp's
Departure
Would become
My
Relief.
It was
My
Key to Freedom-
Through
Reconciliation
And
Restructure
I found myself-
Opening up
Slowly
Peeling off
Those
Izod shirts
One
After
Another
And
Looking into the mirror-
At myself
I saw
A whole person-
For
The very first time.
The year was 1987-
Fall-
Chicago Hard Rock Cafe
And
An Italian woman
Who
I met in
An elevator-
These events would change
My life completely-
It was her-
It was
Dawn-
And
For months
Upon months
A Disney blue corduroy baseball hat
With
Red stitched lettering
And
My father's long green worn army coat
Would hide
My love for her-
So many memories
Flood
My mind:
The Depeche Mode Concert-
Crazy Photos of us-
"Our night out"
At
Ed Debevic's-
Dawn wearing
My black bomber jacket-
Lots of laugher
So much laugher-
As
Two sailors
Tried to score
But
Miserably failed-
And then
Weeks later
A Pact-
An Exchange-
Of
Blood
And
Friendship-
From a small cut
In our hands
Placed together
To become
"Blood Sisters."
Nights of watching
China Beach-
And
My endless imitations
Of
Eddie Murphy
Things are not always
Black and White-
The year was 1988
Winter-
Chicago's Gray slush snow-
Domino's Pizza-
And
Watching the
Winter Olympics-
Acting Class skits
With
Green m&m candies-
Flirtation-
Frustration-
A dish called "Fiesta"
Sizzling in her
Forbidden popcorn maker-
And
Vague art and photography classes that
Weren't't as colorful
As our immediate life-
Weekend retreats
At her invitation-
Riding "shotgun"
In
Her father's Corvette-
And
Her Mother's MR2...
The Herman Crown Center-
It was
Within
The Winter of 1988-
That I found
My heart beating wildly
Next to hers
As
The Windy City
Introduced me
To
My first love:
Dawn-
Late one night
Outside her dorm room-
Her lips
Met mine
Leaving me overwhelmed-
Leaving me speechless-
Leaving me aching-
And as
I fell
Into
Those soft brown eyes-
My cousin Philip
Also
Plunged.
Life has its complications.
Things are not always
Black and White-
Philip
Who I admired-
His
Playboys
I stole
And
Dismantled-
His
Charm
I wish I had-
He
Met Dawn
Through me-
A wonderful marriage resulted
As well as
Two incredible children-
The year is 2002
We email
We talk
Of life and relationships-
Through laughter
And
Tears-
We still
Understand each other-
We're family now-
We've grown
From our experiences-
Foolish things were
Said and done
In our college days
Stealing a stop sign
And
A security guard's hat
Dine and Dash
At
Jimmy Wong's
And
Going To
Boy's Town-
Christopher's Street-
From
Rick's friendly persuasion-
To see
Male strippers-
Which
I hardly noticed-
For all
I saw was
Her-
She pretended
To be my date
It was a mutual thing-
But
Holding
Her hand-
Feeling
The soft crevasse
Of
Her palm-
Whispering
In her ear-
That
Was not fiction-
That
Was the night
Dawn Bianco
Stole my heart.

Kimberly A. Blanchette (5-2-02)


{Halloween} {Chicago Snowstorms} {Cedar Swing}{Crushing}{top of page}

 


Chicago Snowstorms

Chicago Snowstorms: (Dedicated For she whose maiden name(Bianco) translates
as: "White" in Italian: For Dawn Pedersen.  This is how I saw you at age 18.
Now you can look through my eyes and see exactly what I saw. I was an
artist, you were a photographer, but these images could not be captured by
either medium of expression.  That would come years later in the form of
these words.)


Chicago Snowstorms


I think of you
With
Winter snow
Melting
Against  heated skyscraper windows-
Smooth flawless
Looking through
The glass of
Time
Clouded are
My past romances-
Yet-
Some are as vivid as
Last night-
Some are wounds
That have healed
And yet
Still -
There are some
That are embedded
In my soul-
These has never
Been born-
These are lava-
Churning inside me
Bubbling-
Hot-
Explosive-
Eternal-
I think of you
With
Winter snow
And
Rough winds
Howling  fiercely
Against the urban shores
Of
Lake Michigan
So young
Was I
Such a na´ve-
To life's mysteries
To love's pain
To a woman's silent seduction-
With each soft pedal
A touch of silk
Became
Wilted -
Fading-
Dissolving into
The hard cracked pavement
Of my heart-
Lost in the urban streets-
I wandered-
As shadows do
Connected to
The physical thing
In which their image
Binds
And yet
Is separate-
But
Found was
A delicate flower
Whose name
Is
The color of springtime
Whose name
Is
The virgin goddess of my awakening spirit
Whose name
Is
Moonless nights over Italy, Rome and Greece,
Whose name
Is
Sappho's written word of an everlasting kiss
That only poet's can feel through their work-
I think of you
With
Winter snow
Covering
A part
Of
A frozen dream world
Captured in time
In which we still dwell
Entangled
In the enchantment
Of each other-
Free from
Labels
And
Politics-
There we
We sleep
Close enough
To see
Each other's sacred dreams
Close enough
To hear
Each other's unspoken secrets
Close enough
To feel
Each other's comforting touch
Without touch itself-
A Dream within a dream-
And
How I wanted
You back then-
In the core of
My youth-
With such
A searing passion
It
Kept me awake
For days on end
Saturating my mind
With
Erotic images
Of you-
Blinding my eyes
From everything else
But
The importance
Of you-
The Delicate flower-
Who
Consumed
My every thought
As the Sun
Consumes
Each
Tiny flake
Of cold white
Crystallized perfection
On a cold winter's afternoon-
Years
Later
She
Still
Reminds me
Of
Chicago snowstorms-
A white magic
That softly covers
My heart
As she
Did
Years ago.

Kimberly A. Blanchette  (June 7th, 2002)





{Halloween} {The year was 1987}{Cedar Swing} {Crushing}{top of page}

 

 

Cedar Swing

Cedar Swing  (Dedicated to my Karla. Thank you Karla for the lovely cedar
swing.  True wealth is that of the spirit, mind and body, but without heart,
nothing.  You are my heartbeat of life eternal. Your love is the breath that
fills my lungs every day.)

Cedar Swing


The green green grass
Grows beneath
The cedar swing
Eagle Talon driving
At the speed of light
Sunrise of kisses
And by a gleam
In her eyes
She becomes
Earth
Water
Fire
Air
Sunset into
The Heavens
To become
Angel's wings
Gliding
To me
On springtime air
Flower's fragrance
Birds of song
Language of insects
Become part
Of the
Melody
To
Welcome
Her arrival
Into
My arms
Waiting so long
To love
Her
And
Hours
Flash
Into minutes
For a sweet
Wine kiss
Of
Sugar, and silk
As we
Sit
Laughing
Sharing
And
Watching
The green green grass
Grow
Beneath our feet.

Kimberly A. Blanchette  (May 17 2002)


{Halloween} {The year was 1987} {Chicago Snowstorms}{Crushing}{top of page}

 

 

Crushing

Crushing (Dedicated to Karla Kaye Kruizenga: May you know how the fire burns
within me, as I wanted you this morning before work, but thus I must wait
until nightfall.  That stirred this playful scenario.  Just for you my love,
just for you.)

Crushing

Beneath the skin
Tender points-
Sparks-
Crushing me
Not
Pain
But
Pleasure-
As if rolling
Secretly
Downhill destination
The bed of grass
Tests me
Welcoming me
To daydream
And still
Beneath the skin
are these
Little reminders
That
I must endure
The passage rite
Into adulthood
But the adolescent
of a young woman
Remembers
What it felt like
Thinking
Of the one
Who is
Crushing
Her-
The nervousness-
The entanglement
Of eyes-
The laughter
Of seduction-
The innocence
Of
Crushing
Me
Beneath her-
And
Then
Tickling
Becomes Kissing
As we become
Lost in each other
Crushing
within
The bed of grass
Now matted
From Youth.

Kimberly A. Blanchette (NOV. 1, 2002)

{Halloween} {The year was 1987} {Chicago Snowstorms} {Cedar Swing}{top of page}