Aug 24
Kittykatruff's picture

today I want to write about Periwinkle

My favorite color is periwinkle. It’s like lavender, but more blue, more dreamy, with more cumulus mixed in, that is to say it’s not at all like lavender. It’s the blue-gray of a midday cloudy sky before it thunders, but deeper, more vibrant, with some unearthly, faery beauty you can’t quite pinpoint with your pupils but it swirls the stratosphere into a thoughtful question, but not between melancholy and joy, more like figuring out how far you are from the sun, or if you’d rather melt softly into fog or grandly float down from among the stars every twilight. You have to be careful not to add too much red, or domineering purple gives up its intent, but without red it’s the pallid gloom of a day where everything goes wrong and you know you’ve forgotten the one thing that’s important in all the things bothering your mind. "Periwinkle" is such a funny patter of sounds, but when you see the color, it’s really quite poetic.
Aug 18
Kittykatruff's picture

CPR (Crazy Poet Resuscitation)

You know when you
forget to breathe?

I forgot to write.

My mind's been cluttered up, you see;
things keep me up at night.

Shadows hiding in the halls--
things I've ignored for far too long--

You're right, perhaps I'm paranoid.

Or maybe you just forgot 
I'm mad

I'm mad, I'm sad, I tear my hair out
like I could ever spin this sad tale
into gold

At least I feel something.

Your eyes glitter in the dying sun,
a brilliant ruby red on the horizon
​like I've never seen before.
Has no one ever told you
words can hurt.
You stunned me
into silence;
I thought I must be invisible,
time slowing down,
counting heartbeats--
why did I let you
make me feel
this way

Go away
but the shadows creep

Why must I infer
Jun 22
poem challenge: Freedom
Kittykatruff's picture

I Thought, It Flew Away

ink spreads across the page
in blatant color

but some kind that I've
never seen before

sweaty palms grip a pen;
slide down to the tip.

so fingertips trace salt
on broken memories;

broken souls reaching out 
in fractals,
on fresh-from-the-printer

wrinkled like that
elementary school Valentine's day card
you kept, for some reason,
but this wisdom's come from
tears instead of 

so fingertips smear ink across
a tree that hasn't seen the forest
in so, so long,

fingertips dip darkness into
tidepools, salty tears scattered
on the page,

watery strokes of black to gray
with tips fading
to a point;

these feathers lift off of the page
and your mind flutters
out the window,
half-second hesitations threatening
a hard fall to the 
Jun 08
Kittykatruff's picture

Champagne Problems

my trembling, bleeding hands hold
Chipped champagne glasses,
every fallen shard a fortune.

I look through the glass
and your eyes are distorted:
blue-green piercing
a jagged kaleidoscope,
cruelly somehow both condeming and admiring
this metaphor for all my faults--

a broken whirlwind,
mind spinning, 
but my gaze has
been so focused
as through this
crystal clarity

forget the 
engagement party,
forget the flowy white tablecloths
with satin champagne bows,
the strangers talking

i feel quite alone,

it's only
you and

me and those
piercing blue
straight into my
staggering heart

why do you glower
at those glasses,

with no reaction
to the tears falling
May 18
poem challenge: Adaptation
Kittykatruff's picture

To Future Generations

To future generations

Darling, if only I could
give you a heart
of bronze,
a heart no one
could break,
or rust with
doomed from the start,
clinging to them,
rotting, corroding,
until you wish
you never learned
to love.

Darling, if only I could
give your tender soul
some kind of armor,
enough barriers against
the sharp cruelty 
some are so ready to yield.

If I could,
I would give you
to carry you far,
far away
when everything suddenly becomes
too hard to bear,
to leave behind those 
prying eyes
and ascend, sweeping
through the air,

I would give you
eyes that capture starlight,
twinkling, shining,
so you always see
light your path,

I wish you golden arms, warm with sunlight,
so you ne'er feel cold inside, but
May 07
Kittykatruff's picture


give me daffodils
of summer yellow,
and swaying irises'
rich purple color;
your irises spin
and I don't know why,
but I made you stand
and watch the sky
turn dappled gray
to black and blue,
What would I never
do for you,
I tried to say 
today, but
I was blinded by the sun

they say the sun's still spinning,
out of control,

I tried to speak,
and speak I did,
I don't think
they heard
at all

hello, hello,
do I exist
I didn't think
it'd come to this,

sometimes I want
to be alone

in my 

but sometimes,
when I'm on my phone,
I'm secretly trying
to find my cowardly courage,
waiting to talk,
to anyone--
May 02
poem challenge: Six Words
Kittykatruff's picture

Allergies During COVID-19 (for real)

Mar 18
Kittykatruff's picture

Everyone Has Secrets

I see you.
Look into those big, brown eyes
and tell yourself you understand.
The mirror reflects every emotion--
the sadness spilling out, tracing salt
down your face;
the hair held firmly back
though pieces frizz out of place;
the grim and worried countenance
you fear for them to see;
you force your eyebrows up--
deep breath, hold, 1, 2, 3.
Listening for footsteps as
you brush cold water with
rough, brown paper;
will the redness to fade away
as you hear the door open.
A Genuine smile, that you hope
will hide the pain.
A Pang of joy cuts through as you
head to your friends again.

Everyone has sorrow,
everyone has secret wounds.
Please be kind when you see those
big, sad eyes--
You don't know what they're
going through.

Mar 16
Kittykatruff's picture

Nature in a City

There's no Nature here.
How am I supposed to write a poem
when all I see is
baking in the sun,
Rows of windows gleaming,
glittering like the scales of a fish
or a gravity-defying waterfall
reaching towards the sky?
Where is the grass,
the daffodils that mean
it's spring,
the streams full of water as clear
as the bayou here is cloudy?
The car drives past
rectangle lawns,
hedges trimmed to perfection in
shapes I can't even draw,
and I can't take a walk without feeling
from all those windows--
the houses, the cars,
all too close for comfort.
Take the bike trail 
if you want to race
on a wide sidewalk,
and grip the handlebars in fear
when a stroller approches
(you turn with feet to spare,
but it never feels any better),
and you turn around the bend,

and Wow, the park is beautiful.
Mar 11
Kittykatruff's picture

Raindrops on the Car Window

Have you ever watched raindrops race
down the car window-pane?

Some days they chase the blues away,
and I see rainbows through their streaks.

Sometimes they are struggling in vain
to hold onto cold, smooth, unfeeling glass,
only to be swept away by the wind.

Don't you ever play a sad song
and imagine the world is crying,
mourning your own pain,
mourning your loss,
and the raindrops leave tearstains
on the car window,
drumming on the roof
to the rhythm of Adele.

Today the rain is different, though;
the raindrops are washing things away.
They wash away the regrets,
the wish-I-had-known's, the anxiety;
And the world can be seen
through a different perspective,
Somehow clearer through the
Mozaic of waterdrops
across the glass;
And everything feels clean,
and new,
sparkling with hope.