poetry and more from Kenneth W Arthur

Category Poem

The Christmas Tree

The Christmas Tree Four-foot pine perches on my end table past its appointed season needles green as ever, as plastic as merriment coerced by Hallmark puppies hanging around wearing Santa hats and riding candy canes, polar bears wrapped in red… Continue Reading →

The Timid Poet

The Timid Poet Microphone passes hand to hand around the anthology of poets hoping to impress with words that dance and sing, confound reason and pierce hearts. Tinder photos and book jacket head shots promise good times, fun and adoration,… Continue Reading →

If I were a turtle

If I were a turtle I would bask all day in the hot sun on my favorite log. If I got too warm I’d burrow deep down into the river bed mud. When I was hungry I would catch a… Continue Reading →

L’ange du mal

L’ange du mal Joseph Geef’s sculpture of the devil was installed in St. Paul’s Cathedral in Liege, Belgium in 1842, but church officials thought his depiction “too sublime” and it was removed to the Royal Museum of Fine Arts. It… Continue Reading →

Guts a Tumble

Guts a Tumble Sometimes it stalks, hurricane building for days. Sometimes it slinks, thief in night without warning. You catch its sweaty stench just before it descends the way a deer smells danger or sailors perceive storms in the wind…. Continue Reading →

War or Peace

War or Peace “One must be cunning and wicked in this world.” – Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace wicked and war are easy: do violence channel fear and frustration let it fester into anger and hatred begin with lies lie… Continue Reading →

Forest bathing

Forest bathing I. … is what the Japanese call a walk in the woods with no agenda, no news of tyrants and atrocities. Embrace oak’s gruff coat, birch’s papery veneer, soak in ancient wisdom of quiet community knowing nothing of… Continue Reading →

Going Home

Going Home Lud’s Burgers is long gone. K-Mart too. Now Walmart and Meijer duke it out across the street from each other, just like any other Michigan city. I’m surprised to see Lee’s Mini-Golf still holds on next to Starlite… Continue Reading →

The End Times

The End Times   (after Asher ReTech’s “Loss for Words”) I stumbled upon the falling-down cabin, abandoned and strewn with decades of rubble, little chunks of struggle and pain, adventure and joy and I return every year to check if… Continue Reading →

homo tuberosum

homo tuberosum Don’t we envy cats who lounge carefree on couch-backs? Yet disdain the human rooted in worn cushions, nestled under wooly blanket on a chill morn, tools of trade arrayed: TV remote, laptop, diet Dew. Tubers thrive underground coffined… Continue Reading →

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