Hi babe
There you are lying –
fast asleep
You are softly snoring
and my heart still
misses a beat
As the love in me
is so great
there is nothing I need
to contemplate
This is how you are to me
in all your vulnerability
but you will always be safe with me
if you can love – it will set you free
© Kait King, 2015

And confusion rages
like a winter storm
pushing through my
veins and there’s nothing
I can think
Although there is plenty
I could do
But the storm is
blinding and vicious
And I’m thinking of
my life
Like between a rock
and a hard place
And no, I’m not trapped
I’m not unhappy…
with right now
As the ever-bleeding
heart I’m eased
into the terror of
the unknown
It’s not a bad dream
If it was I wouldn’t know if
I really want to wake up –
Does this just mean for me
that it’s time to face reality?
© Kait King, 2016
It’s going to get dark again, even if the sun is shining. I know what I’m in for. Staring into nowhere with a sense of hopelessness and despair that seems to have no end at the time. So you’re back, you’ve returned with your sticky, clingy sadness I must wear as a shawl. It’s a shawl made of all my wrong-doings, lost dreams, failed relationships, and a frightening anxiety about the future. It weighs a tonne, and I struggle to sit up in bed with it on, or get out of bed, or brush my teeth or my hair… you weigh me down, Depression.
I didn’t know I was feeling so bad until I was in the kitchen making myself a coffee… I had been thinking negatively, granted. And the cold of winter doesn’t make it easy either, so the future looks grim with the situation I’m in. This is the exact time the Shawl of Depression draped herself securely around me, so I had to drag myself sadly and tearfully back to my bed. I see the sky, the sun, the birds, the beauty – the beauty in everything but me and my life. Then I tell myself off for being so ungrateful and get angry at the things that stop me from being who I want to be. My anger covers the fear and anxiety. I would rather be angry than scared. It’s a long process to get to angry. It’s a long, unseen, unknown process that puts me there in the first place, though.
I lie facing the wall. I don’t want to look at beautiful things. My eyes are open, I’m not moving though – my breathing hasn’t changed, it’s still rhythmical, and the tears just seem to fall out of my eyes endlessly. No noise, no change, nothing – just a waterfall coming out of my face that seems like it won’t let up. I don’t understand the grief or the sadness. Perhaps it is the broken me saying goodbye to the real me but refusing to let me go… In a little bit, I will sit up and write about this. It’s crippling and yet I know I have to ride this out. I know I should take a good look at those feelings, but I’m just too angry at the moment…
Kait King 2017
The grass squeaks
beneath my feets
Cold steals well into
my bones
Chilly cows in
frosty fields
complain in
mooing moans
The sun is
shining watery bright
glistening drips from
my watery nose
In the shade
of the rock garden
lies a frosty
useless hose
The dogs’ little
paws
hardly leave
a mark
It’s beautiful but
not my favourite time
I have Summer
in my heart
© Kait King, 2016
The wind makes my little cottage shudder and shake, the rain pelts relentlessly on the roof. I can hear the rumblings of thunder as things thrash around on the outside. The palms’ fronds that had died during the summer have now been flung down to earth ungraciously by the howling wind. Not a bird in sight of course, they are smarter than us. I don’t know whether to be slightly afraid or think “fuck it” what can happen? But suddenly I feel like Dorothy. Even though I’ve turned up my TV, the rain is really loud and I can hear the wind still, and the thunder…It sounds like a train coming. I remember someone telling me that earthquakes sound like a train or huge truck bearing down on you. I wondered if the rain was actually hail – it sounded so hard but it just didn’t seem cold enough. I’m snuggling down – battening down those hatches. I think about the poor cows taking a battering in the storm. Nature is so harsh – we have summer and everybody’s happy and then Wham! So this is winter – we will blow the crap outta you, sting your bovine crowd and make things generally miserable.
Oh Hello Winter!!…. mother-fucker….mumble grumble…
Frankenfearless –
I am not
The monsters make
me nervous
We meet them almost
every day
So navigating life
can be perilous
© Kait King, 2015
- Poetry, or writing, isn’t a forced process, I wake up at night to scribble down stuff. I keep a pen and notebook at hand so that I don’t lose anything – I may wake up in the clear light of day and just think it’s a load of crap….but at least I get to verify that!
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