kara towe Poems

A Mother's Warning (short story)
One summer’s day my children (5 & 7) went fishing with me by a fast moving river.
On the banks grew tall grass, and on the rivers edge were dainty blue flowers
As we stood fishing my daughter came up to me holding a small bunch of flowers.
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There is a tattered wooden hedged box.
Small hands hold it open in the sunlight.
Inside a chimed melody.
A little ballerina twirls in front of a diamond shaped mirror.
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The Merry-Go-Round starts to turn as Bachs’ Toccata Adagio and figure in C begins to play.
It slowly picks up speed as the tempo rises.
Up and down in a circular motion, the brightly ornamented horses begin their pace.
Steadily they arrive to a rushing stampede.
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Little fairy slipper where is your owner?
Did the fairy wearing you only loose this one slipper?
Is he/she close by?
Is he/she spying on me with little eyes?
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There was an old woman who owned a flower shop in a small village.
The woman had a unique heritage.
She came from a long line of fortune telling gypsies that predicted many great loves and tragedies.
Many villagers came to her seeking answers for their personal affairs.
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Not to Ponder

The rabbit jumps into its’ hole.
It doesn’t think why.
The storm rolls through the sky.
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Beckons in a stormy sea.
Lights in a vast darkness.
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Flash!
A clap of penetrating sound!
Spider rods of blinding light assemble.
Gone in a instant, blackness devours.
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Lapping and swirling water splashes.
Shifting particles of sand sparkle.
Trillions of percolating bubbles fizz.
Crashing waves of white foam roar forever rolling into shore.
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Snow flakes floating all around, swirling, blowing, whisking across the ground, traipsing on roofs, cradled in trees, dancing on a blistery breeze, spooling around all in sight, makes for a cold winters’ night.
A blanket of shimmering white raps smoothly, tucking into every edge, every groove, spreads along logs, and laces on the tall dry grass, stretching out and freezing the surface of a lake mass.
Trimming the mountainous rocky cliff faces, dusting even the smallest of places, it drifts into mounds that slows even the swiftest pace, the snow has arrived with a silent grace.
Falling from heaven like crystallized tears of the knowing that spring time has long since gone by, there are so many snow flakes I behold with my eyes.
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