Karin Elizabeth Martin
Biography of Karin Elizabeth Martin
I came to America when I was 14 months old. I began writing as a teenager. Mostly thoughts, feelings, entries in a diary.
I wrote a short story when I was 18 called 'The Past Remains' which is from a poem I wrote when I was 15. I still have the yellowed pages of the story. I was given directions on how to publish it but never followed thru out of fear and ignorance. I also sent the same poems words into a company called '
Five Star Music Masters' back in 1983. They made a cassette tape out of the 'Past remains' and put sheet music to it. I still hold those pages...
Karin Elizabeth Martin's Works:
- Autumn -new-
Karin Elizabeth Martin Poems
My Fathers Eyes
I remember very little, of when I was young, I recall even less, of a special someone, who I am told, was so proud of me and so boastful, 'I had his eyes'... I was born, on a first Spring day, I was his 4th, but he could not stay.
Hello old friend, old lover, old memories I think of you quite often, sometimes when I dream, I remember how you taught me what you knew of love and means. I spent my early teenage years, and gave my heart to you, yes dear
I woke this morning dreaming threads of slumber in my head I rolled over for some reason the stirring cleared my head
Desperately Seeking Michael
For so long now, I cease to count, the days and nights spent seeking you out. You are foreign, but not faceless,
It is so dark, so cold, so still, I walk along, all else is still I come here often, never in the day to watch and keep
The Past Remains
I came upon, a long lost thing, forlorn as it was, it had beauty to me, withered and bruised, it lay among, the shredded remains, of an old love song
The Birthday Candle
Good morning early birds Singing in the darkness I cannot see you but I can hear your songs Bringing back thoughts and memories
Once there was a girl She did sure rule the world While growing up she wandered far She thought she new her destiny
Smell the air, breath the brisk chill Mornings are memories of school Waiting for buses Maybe taking off the jacket
It has been a long time, since I began this story, This life has been, a sordid glory As I have aged. I've learned a few,
Sunday Mother Sunday
I awake from a barely mussed bed, visions of activities dance thru my head, I tread down the stair, so lightly I creep I remember some days
I Love You But I Can'T Love Myself
I love you, since the 1st day I saw you, even before when I envisioned who you be... Even if you are angry, I love you so much, I love you enough, to try to empathize with your feelings...
Getting Back To Zero
I sit here and feel so lonely I could dance or sing instead I lay my head on the keyboard and my thoughts become words on the screen
There You Were
Here I am again My thoughts and feelings still the same but stronger and wiser
Smell the air, breath the brisk chill
Mornings are memories of school
Waiting for buses
Maybe taking off the jacket
Mom or Dad made you wear
Enjoying the leaves that swirl around your feet
Tantalizing the cats bringing them to life with youth and play
Staying out as late as you are allowed
Enjoying the last shimmer of sunshine