the rapscallion's lair

a.k.a. rabbit hole

845 notes

nine eleven
thirteen years later that’s what we call it
not nine eleven oh one not September 11, 2001 just nine eleven
two words
three digits
two towers
four planes
thousands
of
mothers fathers daughters sons sisters brothers wives husbands aunts uncles girlfriends boyfriends
not statistics
falling
from
the
sky
not dates or where were you’s
just whole hearts in odd numbers
each one
the only necessary
evidence
of love
::
.
~Kelly Letky
.
(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

nine eleven

thirteen years later
that’s what we call it

not nine eleven oh one
not September 11, 2001
just
nine eleven

two words

three digits

two towers

four planes

thousands

of

mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends

not statistics

falling

from

the

sky

not dates
or where were you’s

just whole hearts
in odd numbers

each one

the only necessary

evidence

of love

::

.

~Kelly Letky

.

(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

Filed under 911 poetry love

6 notes

fresh eyes
.
some days i let my camera choose the focus and fall in love with imperfection all over again
.
i dream myself awake and wander through corners of remembrance there is no hope there is only hope there is only keeping on
we all climb the same mountain weight-bearing and moon lifted
and the snail that eats the lily must surely taste sunshine
i cannot blame her for surviving though i admit there are times when i toss her into weeds
where she will climb and eat the flavor of absent-minded forgiveness
just as content with a broken down aster
alive . ~Kelly Letky .
 (via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

fresh eyes

.

some days
i let my camera choose the focus
and fall in love
with imperfection
all over again

.

i dream myself awake and wander
through corners of remembrance
there is no hope
there is only hope
there is only keeping on

we all climb the same mountain
weight-bearing and moon lifted

and the snail that eats
the lily
must surely taste
sunshine

i cannot blame her
for surviving
though i admit
there are times
when i toss her into weeds

where she will climb
and eat the flavor
of absent-minded forgiveness

just as content
with a broken down aster

alive
.
~Kelly Letky
.


(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

Filed under poetry photography spilled ink

3 notes

spider veins
all your flaws are evidence of irony
mother nature has a sense of humor but also, a quick temper
she sends flowers as apology on a regular basis
you have to cut your own path in the forest of existence, with a quick-sharp, heart-forged machete
courage is your metronome and labyrinth is another word for learn
live lost and laugh at life’s thunder
the sky remembers every flash of lightning
earth is just a pattern of old scars hiding shy beneath a veil of tattered stars
.
~Kelly Letky
.
(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

spider veins

all your flaws are evidence of irony

mother nature has a sense of humor
but also, a quick temper

she sends flowers as apology on a regular basis

you have to cut your own path in the forest of existence,
with a quick-sharp, heart-forged machete

courage is your metronome and
labyrinth is another word for learn

live lost and laugh at life’s thunder

the sky remembers every flash of lightning

earth is just a pattern of old scars
hiding shy beneath a veil of tattered stars

.

~Kelly Letky

.

(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

Filed under poetrytuesday poetry spilled ink

3 notes

methuselah’s last stand
if i could walk away from the answers my footprints would fill with more questions
i am held in place by the harpooned taproot of my own bark-coated existence
but the leaves i toss into the wind have every right to fly
the ground you walk on is made from the crust of today’s leftover uncertainty
nothing is real but faith and i believe in the sun burning through my temporary cloak
winter is meant to reveal what we’re made of and you think it should be more complicated
forever is time’s long lost daughter singing to the sailor of finite
what you see is only an echo
. ~Kelly Letky .
 (via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

methuselah’s last stand

if i could walk away from the answers
my footprints would fill with more questions

i am held in place by the harpooned taproot
of my own bark-coated existence

but the leaves i toss into the wind
have every right to fly

the ground you walk on is made from the crust
of today’s leftover uncertainty

nothing is real but faith and
i believe in the sun
burning through my temporary cloak

winter is meant to reveal what we’re made of
and you think
it should be more complicated

forever is time’s long lost daughter
singing to the sailor of finite

what you see is only an echo

.
~Kelly Letky
.


(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

Filed under poetrytuesday poem spilled ink

6 notes

Stepped outside just in time to see a flock of about 100 crows flying directly over my house, gold from the setting sun glinting off the undersides of their wings. A murder of ordinary magic.

5 notes

armour
you gave me a shield to stand behind sharp edged and burnished spike
for protection, you said
and i laughed because you were always running and i was always lost
at least it looked that way when the off center sun came shining through varicose leaves of false forgiveness
and i raised my spear but you said no, like this
and handed me a polished stone of blue lace agate tied with twine
i held it up to the center of everything
hoping for music
but somehow silence was the perfect fit
. ~Kelly Letky .
 (via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

armour

you gave me a shield to stand behind
sharp edged and burnished spike

for protection, you said

and i laughed because
you were always running
and i was always lost

at least it looked that way
when the off center sun came
shining through varicose leaves
of false forgiveness

and i raised my spear
but you said no, like this

and handed me a polished stone
of blue lace agate tied with twine

i held it up
to the center of everything

hoping for music

but somehow silence
was the perfect fit

.
~Kelly Letky
.


(via that’s mrs. mediocrity to you)

Filed under poetrytuesday poem poetry photography