Biography of Karen Touzalin
I began writing poetry at age fourteen, it was inspired by love of course, that has been the catalyst for all my poetry to this day. I was given a copy of Sonia Sanches 'Love Poems' at seventeen and my world was changed forever. I discovered Pablo Neruda, Maya Angelou, Nikki Giovanni and loved the imagery captured in their words.
The stages of love, the flirtation, intensity, passion, selfless (agape) , loss of love, heartbreak, heartache and new love makes writing poetry cathartic. I hope anyone reading my poetry will enjoy them as much as I do writing them.
Karen Touzalin Poems
Where do I end where do we begin, I am not sure anymore. It seems I can no longer exist as a single cell organism
I am elated, Spinning, Dancing, Frolicking
To wake each day, faced with perpetual sunshine disguised as your smile is somewhat appealing and even doctor recommended.
Because I loved you, I gave you poetry, instead of my body to keep you warm.
A Slow Death
We used words to fill the distance between us more words than the 4000 miles that separated us words that sealed my fate
The Yellow House On Tucker Avenue
Saturday mornings brought promises, of starting over, beginning anew. Trying to make the week over
A Fulfilment Poem
You complete me, Like the milk for my cereal In my favourite bowl Or a cup of sugar in a chocolate cake recipe
Awake In A Dream
While you lay sleeping, I dance playfully in the shadows on your face Your breath, a long tunnel......lined with flowers
Crush # 2
You make me dream of being in love again to experience that tight, warm
A caged heart left unguarded You venture in to reconnoiter hostile territory
Life - Part 1
I want to grow old with you holding your hands as we walk down this path of life
You hoard your smiles as if they were jewels precious and rare but smiles are a treasure
Joy (For Joy)
To embody a name so well your mother a prophet beyond measure Did she foresee
We were younger then photographs frame our innocence, The promise of love smiles swollen with dreams and wide-eyed curiosity
I feel the stirring
of the butterflies when I see you
and a subtle, sweet confusion
rears it's head
at the thought of your lips