Born Again

Born Again (Free Verse)
By Kathryn Best (me)

Sitting alone in the blanket of night
silently alienated beneath
the vast splendor of stars
that invite trust in the divine

I find my thoughts cast
on whispered memories
from another season of life
when I had the faith of a child.

There was no searing doubt for
the Immortal Being that made
Himself known in writing
read to me by lantern light.

Oh the duality of past and present
where now I sit in a constant hebetude
enamored by this laughing world
where I seek my adjunct pleasures.

Sitting alone in the blanket of night
silently alienated beneath
the vast splendor of stars
that invite trust in the divine

I found the help I needed
to be reborn.

Two Short One Silly

I decided to try my hand at a haiku and a limerick. I have never really put much thought into writing my poems in proper form and as I am currently taking a poetry class I have been challenged to do so.

The haiku is a traditionally short poem, commonly about nature, with three lines of 5,  7, 5 syllables.

The morning sun fills

my heart with much needed hope
as it warms my skin.

A limerick is also a traditionally short poem, commonly known for it’s silliness and frequently bawdy flavor. It has a rhyme scheme of aabba and five lines with varying lengths. The first and second lines often have 7-10 syllables, the third and fourth lines should be shorter with 5 syllables, and the fifth line should have 7-10 syllables again.

Elf on the Shelf
There was a small elf on a shelf

That could not move far by himself.
Each day he would wait
For his preordained fate
In hopes it would not cost his health.


Losing You

How did we get so far apart
along time's short avenue?
Did a small amount of distance 
really tear our hearts in two?

I stood by you through light and dark; 
I did not run away.
Yet suddenly what was a bond
has completely gone astray. 

We swore we'd show the world
what it meant to be a friend.
But now I'm standing here alone...
Are you going to keep your end?

I promised I would fight for you
until my dying day.
No matter what it is you choose, 
it will always be that way.

The silence may grow weary.
My heart may find it's death.
But I will not let go of you
Until my final breath.


These Mountains Always Call Me Back 


There is never a day that I don’t wish I was in the Blueridge Mountains drinking coffee and chasing sunsets. They are a treasury of some of my greatest memories. There are trees there that still whisper of campfire songs and nights of endless laughter.

I feel more at home there than anywhere else in this world.

Thanks x Two

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thought that this post was incredible. Please follow this lovely blogger everyone.


On a recent evening commute, a woman boarded the bus and rushed towards me. Rather than sit, she seemed to fall into the empty seat beside mine, a mound of heavy coat, thick scarf, and several bags. She wedged a bag between her feet and dug through her purse producing a pen and ragged notepad. Flipping frantically through its frayed pages, she peered at me over glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

“I have to make a list of things I’m thankful for.” she said with irritation.

I didn’t ask why, but glanced at her notepad. She was grateful for some important things, with “health” and “job” written so far on her list. She saw me looking.

“I need ideas. What are you thankful for?” She sounded aggravated.

I thought back to when my daughter was small. I told the woman how my daughter’s eyes lit up when we…

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