World View

Kimberly King rscj

All would know
thank, peace,
safe,
love
please
hug, enough,
hope
in at least three
languages.

All would know
the feel
of each in its ripeness;
the vision
of each in its honesty;
the smell and taste
of each accented texture;
the sound
of each in its becoming.


 Words

My pocket stones,
tools, and playthings;
warm prisms that bend and breathe,
accept, receive, and change,
as light does,
throughout the days;
kaleidoscopic stains
that mediate
the brilliance of being.


In You I Am

You are the pen,
I am the ink.
Write me, pour me

Into the indigo
of depth and wonder,
into the sweet-honeyed
prismatic word!

Pour with a hand
that knows the ink
never runs dry and the pages
expand to contain it.

Write as though
you breathe in sunset
and realize it tastes
like key lime pie.

Spill me into a world
that could use
revelation.


Left to Wonder    

It started
    in my mind’s eye-
    salt-water soaked
    granules of clay
    shaped into
    foot sculpted oceans.

Then
    I found some
    in the pyramid fold
    of the left pocket’s deepest corner
    in shorts that fit
    last summer.

More
    over time
    sifted into sheets—
    tumbling grit
into waves of dreams.
    My backpack,
shoes, the bathtub,
    and lunch-
    each had their dusting
    of sun-crumbly grains.

But slowly
almost imperceptibly
    things got softer,
    shaken out,
    smoothed.
    There was less rub
    and more tug-
    on laces and
    books in stacks
    and brushes through
    wild ocean hair.

Now,
    I am left to wonder- where
    have sand and summer gone
    to wait?


Gifts at Liturgy

I gave a kid
communion today
who with her praise
and flat open palm
offered vanilla cupcake
crumbs on her lips.

I also put
the Body of Christ
on a fresh
bright red
smiley face.

I can’t help but think
that God
shakes her head
and that God
laughs in his chest…
knowing that no
disrespect is intended.

They are being
who they are,
created, beloved,
fully human, delightfully,
completely
of God

whom I’d venture
also likes cupcakes
and finds smileys refreshing
in a world where people
sometimes forget
to remember
joy.

I Think God’s Going to Say

I’m so glad, I’ve been waiting, and
here’s your coffee,
just as you like it.
Welcome back!  
It’s been a long time…
The flowers have grown some,
and the world has changed.
But, you know, people haven’t
really, have they? They still
want for things they haven’t,
get angry, say things
they don’t mean,
sigh at sunsets and blow
dandelions to kingdom come.
(I never have figured out
where that is.)
Yes, they love and they fight,
they create and they kill.

Are you doing okay?  
Need a refill?

I didn’t set out
with that broad a scope
of activity in mind, but
there you have it.
Loving, creating, honoring,
imagining, hoping, toiling,
caring, building…
that was the basic plan.
Then one day
(not one of the seven…
a little while after that)
the wind blew up into a fit
causing a great agitation among folks.

“That’s it, day in and day out??”
one of them asked.

Can you
imagine
asking me that?

“Will there be any choice?”

“Choice? Hm. Sure!”
I said.

Mmmm-hmmm.

Folks started thinking, loving,
imagining, creating…and
choosing.

And sometimes
what they choose
wasn’t part of the prototype.
But, that doesn’t make them
bad, wasteful, or otherwise
unworthy…well, not to me
anyway.

No, I’d say it makes me
all the more thankful
to see them again.

So we can walk…
and I can show off
the flowers—
I do
love making flowers!
All of those colors and textures—
and the smell—
heavenly!

(Go ahead—laugh.  It was a bad joke.
Laugh, kick up your feet…
You are home now. That’s what you do there…)

How about some shortbread to go
with that coffee?



After Reading Poetry in the Springtime

My office, the satchel
boldly slung
across passionate, thought-filled,
writerly me.

My desk, the table
on an uneven floor,
tucked into the corner,
though facing the world!

My muse, the Spirit,
swim-dancing in women
and men and the whole
of what fills my senses.

My joy, to sing out
with pen in hand, Amen!
Bring on love and life
in abundance, Amen!

Kimberly M. King
(c)MperiodPress



Alleluia!

Lifting arms bedecked
with prismatic sequins,
droplets of joy from
a rain of tears,
I bow and breathe deeply
in the fresh garden glory
of diaphanous petals
open to taste new Spring,

I dance with creation
to the music of birth!

©MperiodPress

See Kimberly King's profile

More poems by Kimberly King:

January 2007

May 2006