Posted by: tsopr | June 5, 2010

Kimberly K. Thompson, American Poet

Kimberly K. Thompson lives in Fairmont, West Virginia with her husband. They recently celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. She has been published in Bell’s Letters Poet, Gulfport, MS; The Taylor Trust, Palmdale, CA; Northern Stars, Hermansville, MI; The Pen, Pittsburgh, PA; Smile, New Milford, CT; Lone Stars, San Antonio, TX; and Poet’s Espresso, Stockton, CA.  She enjoys writing poems, flash fiction, and children stories that she writes for her  nieces and nephews. She has won several awards for her poetry in the West Virginia Poetry Society.

                                         Featured Poetry of Kimberly K. Thompson

A Mother’s Love

You fed me, bathed, dressed and coddled me,
I remember the times your eyes shined at me.
Your tender ways when I was sad,
you tried to give me all you had.

A mother’s love isn’t always heard,
it’s what you feel and know without words.
The dreams she stores in her heart,
the pain you cause when you drift apart.

But open arms she’s always had,
no matter how I’ve hurt or made her sad.
A willing soul and working hands,
you’ll never find a better friend.

Her hair has turned from black to gray,
but her mother’s heart has never changed.
That I’m sure will never die,
the love she gave to others and I.

Her love will always burn brightly in our hearts,
a mother’s love never departs.

Flaming June

Lady in orange
with flaming red hair
how you are the fairest of fair.
Sleeping lady
unassumingly quite a sensation
you’ve weathered well the time
with your artist’s rendition.
Frederick Leighton brushed on your strokes
although you were napping so much was spoken.
Your youth and your beauty, your long, titian hair
how is makes groves of people yet stop and stare.
Beautiful lady, sleep on in peace
your portrait, hearts are still intrigued.

Honeybees

Beautiful flowers dripping with sweet nectar,
tantalizing, seducing bees into a drunken
stupor while they buzz by in an intoxicating
ritual of collecting and producing sweet
honey in the sweltering, hot days of summer.
Overloaded with pollen follicles,
they powder the flowers and buzz to their
honeycomb nest and release their cache
of sweet honey, day in and day out.
We are in the garden leisurely sipping
our iced tea, laced with honey.
The garden’s intoxicating scents and sights
almost assault our senses.
The lilies, especially, scents the air
with their fragrance,
on the hot, sultry days of summer.
Exhilarated with scents, birds, butterflies,
bees, and the dazzling array of flowers,
we while away the hour, while the bees
work their magic conscientiously.

Mother

I watched you waste away,
the whole year that you laid.
I saw your bright blue eyes,
film over with confusion and surprise.
Did you know who we were
your two daughters, now your caretakers?
You still smiled sometimes –
a vague, haunting shine.
I watched you die, day by day,
until God finally took you away.
So tears stop falling from my eyes,
it’s been seven years gone by.
Mother, I never thought you’d wither away,
until with Alzheimer’s you were diagnosed
and became – a despondent little babe.
God, my heart still bleeds, let me meet her
in heaven someday please.

Seasons

Huddled close together like old women gossiping,
stood the trees in the dead woods.
Stripped of their fine green raiment and pillaged
garments of yellow, orange, red and brass,
now just brown, crumbling heaps littering the
embarrassed grass, banished finery of their summer’s past.
Their once proud bodies that flowed with
sap and green velvet texture
now shriveled, haggard, brown and empty,
sucked dry by the cruel late fall.
The trees stand solemnly . . .
waiting for the harsh blast that proclaims . . .
winter.

Taps

We sat on stone benches
you lay before us in your flag-draped box
tears were flowing from your family
even the sky opened up into drops
your military comrades
with their guns three times they shot
the noise so loud it startled us –
21 shells they dropped
then the bugle played its rendition of “Taps”
so sad, clear, and sweet
my dearest, dearest father
may you rest in peace.

Copyright © 2010 Kimberly K. Thompson

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Responses

  1. Kimberly Thompson uses a variety of topics with an array of words eloquently written. I have enjoyed her poetry for years.


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