May 15
Kittykatruff's picture

Life of a Pencil

I dreamed
I was a pencil,
Held in someone's hand,
gliding across a page,
giving everything I am
to let their words be recorded,
destroying myself in my work,
as my very core is scraped away,
existing only for the writer
as they sharpen me over and over,
shorter and shorter,
until I am nothing more
than a couple inches of wood,
a bit of graphite,
an eraser stub rubbed away to uselessness
as it's level with the metal ring around it.
But I live on in the essays, the homework,
the quizzes and tests and outlines,
the sketches, the drawings, the poems and prose,
the love-letters and grocery lists and who else knows;
So precious are words,
the words that you chose.
May 15
Kittykatruff's picture

Spring Storm in New Hampshire

I'm sitting in the living room,
stroking my dozing dog, then suddenly:
a flash of light in my peripheral vision,
so quick I might have imagined it.
Then I hear it:
Thunder crashes overhead, a canon shot
in the fading light,
signaling war.
The towering pines sway ominously,
as if possessed by some strange urge to dance wildly,
haphazardly, subject to the winds;
Rain pelts the windows, streaming down in a 
never-ending sheet, distorting the images I watch
through the glass;
Such terrifying beauty--I know not whether to
scream, or laugh, or run out into the rain
and join the frenzied dance, letting the water rush down my face;
yet I stay sitting there, entranced, gazing at the sky
(and it's probably for the better).
Then lightning blinds the world again,
illuminating the figures of puppet trees
flung about by the wind, then
the world is dark again...
Feb 21
Kittykatruff's picture

Save the World

I feel the aching rhythm of my heart,
in sync with all the whirlwinds in my head,
the storm of thoughts colliding, then again,
for no one ever told you life was easy—

Reach out your broken hands to grab the sun—
but if you yearn too much, then you will burn,
so, tears collecting in a shimm'ring lake,
you instead turn your saddened eyes to stars;

Don't let them take the wind beneath your wings
and pull you down from Castles in the Clouds;
though virtues and kindness we're able to teach,
Hope and Innocence are forever gone once lost.

You cry out at the world of so much pain,
condemning all the greed and grief you see,
Yet do not let it break you; you must go
out of the hurricane's Eye and into the storm,

for if you really want the world to change,
you must face all the madness, sadness, pain,
and make it go away, you suff’ring soul,
Dec 22
Kittykatruff's picture

Fading Fairy Dust

Where has the magic gone?
The magic that used to
fill me with butterflies
and tint my world rosy,
the fast-fading fairy dust
that made me feel
so special?

When I was little, I used to ask Santa Claus
every year
for a pair of fairy wings—
Real wings—
and imagined I’d 
Wake up,
soar around my room,
and fly to the very top of the 
tallest pine tree in my yard,
and look out at my beautiful world—

I used to wish on stars, and
sing to fireflies, pretending they
danced to my melodies;
I would dance across the grass
in my backyard, singing,
imagining I was Maria in the Sound of Music
Or the ingenue of a Broadway musical—

I would write stories, notes to look back on
when I became famous;
so much hope and joy and innocence and
belief in the world,
belief in myself, for
i did not pretend i was a star,
Dec 18
Kittykatruff's picture

Not Just Words

She cried tears of words,
every emotion etched forever
on the wrinkled piece of paper, yet
forever locked away
from the eyes of whatever stranger
happened on that page;
Pain hidden in metaphors
and Sorrows in similes,
Regret a rose-red symbol,
and Fears now a promise to keep—
The rhythm of her aching heart
forever captured in syllables and beats;
her whole self
a poem
on that ever-tear-stained paper sheet—
Humans aren't everlasting, but
these words remember 
her view of the world,
these words 
will never grow old.
Through her writing,
Her tale will be told.
Dec 16
Kittykatruff's picture


Tomorrow, I hope
I make someone smile.
I want to bring joy them
for awhile.

This world is cruel; it
suffocates the kind
and unleashes terrors
upon innocent minds.

People are cruel; we
tear each other apart
to raise ourselves up,
ignoring our hearts—

But people are also kind.
We could live in a world
where everyone is treated
as equals, where
we saved our planet
from its looming climate crisis
of our own cause—
We could change our actions
to change our world
so we wouldn't have to hope
every day
that tomorrow would be better
on its own.

Tomorrow, I hope
the world pauses for a moment
so I can catch my breath.
I need to take a break
from all these thoughts
spinning in my head;

The world needs a moment in sync
to listen to the rhythm of our hearts beat—
We've written the song
Dec 15
Kittykatruff's picture


"Lost" is such a changing word.

It can mean being stranded
without a sense of direction, or
so caught up in the moment
that the world around you melts away.

For me, to be lost is to be
surrounded by some force,
some force that makes everything
tangible and certain
whether one's lost in a dense, foggy wood, or
lost in another's eyes, or
lost in thought,
or conversation,
or if something's lost in translation—
all that's real fades away
as a new world glosses over the old,
with a dream-like quality.

Even if something is physically lost—
say, a book, or necklace,
the memories of them remain, their place
remains in the world.

Therefore being lost is the meeting of
dreams and reality,
what is and what could be,
what has been and what will be.
Though this uncertainty can seem scary at times,

Dec 09
Kittykatruff's picture


We all have them.
So real, so close, so tangible
we can almost reach out
and touch them— 
they remain elusive,
evading our 
whispered wishes,
tears shed in despair,
mind and body worn
from toiling on and on without end.
I shout my hopes to thousands of stars—
one of them must hear my pleas.
But they just disappear each night,
without a single remark or reply,
or even a half-hearted goodbye.
The blushing sky 
turns blue,
and pink cotton candy clouds
float on the horizon.
The golden light warms my heart,
so I rise
and begin the day’s work,
the same as ever,
the same hopes and dreams
waiting for some star
to hear them someday.

I know I'm not a princess in a fairytale—
Yet I'll always wish on stars anyway.
Oct 20
Kittykatruff's picture

Winter Magic

There’s something so magical
about a New England winter.
I don’t know if it’s the way the snow falls,
one night in November,
all at once:
a softy, downy blanket over the rolling hills 
and woods,
Or how
the lakes freeze over 
And are soon covered in the tracks 
of ice-skates,
Or how 
one of those wintry nights, everyone
Is safe and warm in their own houses, yet
watching the same snow fall 

Or perhaps it’s how 
When I step outside one day,
A thousand falling snowflakes
Surround me,
the wind blowing them 
this way and that,
Swirling and spiraling over the landscape
In its glittering winter glory.

At night, the moon softly illuminates
their dance,
and snowflakes streak solid white
against the dark trees
Past the car windows.
I’d always pretend I was in Star Wars
Sep 23
Kittykatruff's picture


Humans are full of faults
to a fault,
chasing the idea of perfection,
in itself a flaw;
When, inevitably, we do fall,
we have devised our means
to appease all,
such as test retakes
or apologies.

are part of every preschool's teachings,
a way to pay back the wounded
and, in theory, show we care. 
Words dripping off the page
like honey,
seemingly see-through
but deceptively sticky,
Clinging to clichés,
all to show they find a fault
in the fault they committed, to a fault,
faulting another.

Now, I'm not saying we should abandon morals
for human society is built on our relationships,
and kindness, love, compassion is the way
to a stronger, brighter future.

I simply think it odd
that we find fault in everything we do—
we define our morals by our faults, 
and always search ourselves
for imperfections;