Tag: loss

“Forever You”: an ode to friendship at the horizon of loss

On By ©️K.T. 2025In childhood, Death, friends, friendship, Gold, illuminated text, Lajuana Lampkins, Life and Death, Ode, Poem, poet, poetry, Roses, Terminal IllnessLeave a comment
gifted handwritten poem art from one of my newest and dearest friends, Lajuana Lampkins
as my longest and dearest friend,
Jill Johnston Hayes
neared death

an illuminated scroll
drawn on gold metallic cardstock
with pen, marker, paint and crayon
Lajuana Lampkins
September 2023
FOREVER “you”… 
My childhood friend, and through the years, we've grown together, shared joy and tears, were bonded like the day and night, our hearts forever will unite, you've given me, a chance to be, a friend forever, most definitely, I am forever, there is no end, you'll always be, my most best friend, each day and night, I keep you near, always know, that I am here. Thank you for, the love you've shared, nothing else can compare, So much we've grown, and been all through, forever is forever you. 

Poem by Lajuana Lampkins
©️copyright Lajuana Lampkins
September 2023
Continue reading ““Forever You”: an ode to friendship at the horizon of loss” →

worth

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Ode, Poem, poetryLeave a comment

i measure my worth

in deer so at ease they’ll eat kale from the garden, less than five meters from my door

by a home-cooked meal eaten together, still hot

in heritage Jimson weed blooms on summer nights

& harvested, unblemished squash on autumn afternoons

in bats sighted overhead at dusk from the stoop

in thriving houseplants, all named and watered

in clean sinks, sheets, floors and birdbaths

by pages read, no matter

by the number of rabbits who see me and then ignore my presence

in folks, walking exhausted, or in rain, who accept my offer, climb into my truck with their groceries or booze for a lift home

in miles walked with the dog, and in my stilled patience as he interprets the “news” thoroughly with his nose

in native prairie plants restored, by my hand, New England asters, sweetgrass, have mercy,

in minutes spent on the phone with my son,
my golden boy

Continue reading “worth” →

play possum

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Animals, heartbreak, love, Ode, Poem, poetry, StoicLeave a comment

i’m fine

nothing’s wrong

i just really love this song
gives me the blues sometimes, is all

a snake, a possum, a doe and fawn
on the roadside killed, again, i saw

i heard the breaking news story
i’m awfully raw, so please ignore me

this world can be so cruel and wicked
of course, my tender heart’s afflicted

glistened eyes, lump throat, and quiver lip

you think they’re for you?

well sir, or ma’am: that’s rich.

all lies,

but also, all true.

the sea of inez

On By ©️K.T. 2025In love, Poem, poetry, relationships, waterLeave a comment

i feel the gravity
the love
the loss
so close || this close
almost, almost, almost

buoyed then anchored

an internal saltwater aquifer suffusing me

with congestive heartbreak

swelling and stiffening my limbs
i cant walk to you or anyone
beached in my own body

my eyes filling my mouth, my throat
i can’t talk to you or anyone
muted by our illicit drug

swallow,
swallow,
swallow

that sea inside you

or else,

drown, drown, drown

in it

i am not a mermaid
i am a human woman

yet my belly’s pregnant
with an ocean

she’s y/ours

Continue reading “the sea of inez” →

someone

On By ©️K.T. 2025In heartbreak, poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

i feel like someone
you last loved on a wednesday,
earlier this week

i feel like someone who was once your intense singular joy/ now and again, an invisible naturalist, poet, neologist and crone

i feel like someone you forgot to mention the Hilma Af Klint show to

i feel like someone losing our intimacy
exponentially, by the second, against a shot clock in an un-united center

i feel like someone whose forehead you won’t kiss; whose hollows you’ll never touch with hands, tongue or tip; like someone who’ll never truly climax again

i feel like someone who upset you with
Dream[ing] and that’s where it ended; someone who never listened to your diatribe about Waco, or heard of your plane rituals and four-part fruition

i feel like someone whose mystery you’ll let be; whose content was consumed without gnosis; like those cold “leftovers.”

i don’t feel like someone you will walk across a frozen Lake or Lake bed to get to anymore, during the apocalypse, Station Eleven style Continue reading “someone” →