What I want to believe Real Women want

The writer's blogk

I’m quite happy being a Woman

I don’t want to be a Man

I don’t want to scratch my nuts

or take out the trash can

I don’t understand the confusion

about the Man and Woman sequel

Of course we are very Different

Different, but still very Equal

I am proud to be the Carer

The Fantastical Giver of Life

the gentle softness of

a  safe place to fall

When you return from

---

a hard days’ fight

My Man, the strong Protector

The Bringer of that Life

who will be Honoured to care for me Truly

and with Pride

would call me his Wife

© Kait King, 2015

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What I want to believe Real Women want

The writer's blogk

I’m quite happy being a Woman

I don’t want to be a Man

I don’t want to scratch my nuts

or take out the trash can

I don’t understand the confusion

about the Man and Woman sequel

Of course we are very Different

Different, but still very Equal

I am proud to be the Carer

The Fantastical Giver of Life

the gentle softness of

a  safe place to fall

When you return from

---

a hard days’ fight

My Man, the strong Protector

The Bringer of that Life

who will be Honoured to care for me Truly

and with Pride

would call me his Wife

© Kait King, 2015

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Your Old Sweaty Shirt

The writer's blogk

That’s the last thing you wore

that held your warm body close

It was the last thing before

your heart and pressure slowed

A cloth got to finally hold you

something I never got to do

People say that it was better that way

But I don’t know if that’s quite true

I hold your once sweaty t-shirt

drenched now with my own tears

and try to inhale what’s left of you

As it fades from all the years

 © Kait King, 2015

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Your Old Sweaty Shirt

The writer's blogk

That’s the last thing you wore

that held your warm body close

It was the last thing before

your heart and pressure slowed

A cloth got to finally hold you

something I never got to do

People say that it was better that way

But I don’t know if that’s quite true

I hold your once sweaty t-shirt

drenched now with my own tears

and try to inhale what’s left of you

As it fades from all the years

 © Kait King, 2015

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Summer Daze

The writer's blogk

I feel

the sunshine on my face

through emerald branches

like delicate spider-web lace

I feel

the warm and soothing rays

of those dreamy summer days

I wish I could go back to that place….

© Kait King, 2015

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Kick-Start

The writer's blogk

Thunder claps slap me in my stomach and heart

the sound so loud I can feel it’s power to my core

the rain is disjointed, fragmented and like nails

brittle, metallic, piercing upon my tin roof

cold drapes her cape and darkness is too early

Winters’ chilly breath clings to me and all else

with crispy shattered glass grass and black icy roads

time hibernates

in a torpor while waiting for

the kick-start of Spring

Iron grey afternoons, misty mornings and

chilly bedsheets

embrace every day with a choking chilliness

a resistant prisoner I will wait

as a hibernating bear or a frozen tundra

stillness and a rigor about me will be chipped away

with every day of Spring

as I am hurtled with a kick-start

back into a living thing

 © Kait King, 2015

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The Master

The writer's blogk

I’m not the hero I used to be

but I’ve mastered the art of

Insanity

 © Kait King, 2015

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The Master

The writer's blogk

I’m not the hero I used to be

but I’ve mastered the art of

Insanity

 © Kait King, 2015

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Bully

The writer's blogk

The words that fall off your fingers

as you tip tap text

to me

are untrue, hurtful

and dangerous

You’re acting like

a bully

I don’t want to do that

but you threaten

me with this

You lied and said I fucked him

when it was just a kiss

Why are you so

mean to me

What makes it ok

that you and

your so-called friends

hang me

and then

watch me sway

I couldn’t find anyone

I felt I could talk to

See everyone thought

it was true

But now I’m not here

anymore –

I hope that’s better

for you…

© Kait King, 2015

View original post

Bully

The writer's blogk

The words that fall off your fingers

as you tip tap text

to me

are untrue, hurtful

and dangerous

You’re acting like

a bully

I don’t want to do that

but you threaten

me with this

You lied and said I fucked him

when it was just a kiss

Why are you so

mean to me

What makes it ok

that you and

your so-called friends

hang me

and then

watch me sway

I couldn’t find anyone

I felt I could talk to

See everyone thought

it was true

But now I’m not here

anymore –

I hope that’s better

for you…

© Kait King, 2015

View original post