Kim McInnis

Kim McInnis Poems

to be the face you wake up to
- to stay up late waiting for you
to curl up in your arms
- to feel your breath on my cheek


I'm sorry
that I'm not strong enough
to hide my anger
- frustration

Peaceful, Tranquil
Sleeping, Dreaming, Thinking
Night, Dark, Fear, Distress

I’ve been holding your hand for far too long now
- your palm is hot as a swamp
- your thick fingers turn my knuckles white

the painfilled notes of my song ring out
dripping ironically
broken in mangled gasps
sobbing as the car tears farther and farther away

a year has passed
one year
since we chose this path
an empty promise to ourselves

I'm sitting here
where we usually are

usually smiling

Once upon a time, I had dreams
One upon a time, I had hope
Then my stars fell from the sky
I saw the moon melt in your eyes

my mind is plagued
by the stupid things
long ago that used
to make me smile

say it one more time.
how miserable you are now.
how much better things could be.
say it one more time.

now that the storm is over
I can't help but wonder
where I should turn
I look to my wrist

I am the most useful thing you'd ever want.

I remember the way you glowed with excitement as you withdrew me from my florid, papery shell. The way you held me up to the light, which shone in slivers across my creamy exterior. You marvelled at the sleekness of my blades, the speed as which they promised to slice. You could almost hear the satisfying snip of steel sliding through tender, pulpy flesh; the soothing whirr of electricity coursing through my form. You said I was perfect, the only thing you were missing.


Every day begins exactly the same. I awake to a sharp beep, pulling me from the sea of dreams I forgot to have. Water pellets from my shower drum the tiles below. Synthesized sounds carry me through my routine. Black slacks, crisp shirt, a non-eventful tie. With hollow taps of footsteps I descend into the whirr of traffic. Time blurs as it shifts, ignored and untamed. Today the destination is different, but the journey is the same.


when I was last here
three years ago
I used to tote our picture around with me
in a cute, purple frame


There is a tree
standing alone on the side of the road
outcast of its own nature
though it's August

at times I worry
that time will stop
before I can see you again
everything second that sits between you and I


wandering around in the dark
along - running again
away from myself


what isn't to like
about the simple things now?

what's left of the world

can you feel it?
the winds they keep changing
of the beat we once felt

Kim McInnis Biography

Hi, I'm Kim McInnis. I live in a small, non-eventful town in southern Ontario. I'm petite, dark-haired, half-Korean, and near-sighted, but mostly a dreamer. I might be invisible, but I have a hard time telling. I write more as a memoir than for art. I keep journals, but something in metaphor and figurative words is a safe haven to me. Behind a mask of pretty letters, I can be as honest as I want, and that's why I write. As a result, a lot of my poems come out as seemingly meaningless nonsense. I'm not much for rhymes, so I write mostly in free-verse. Aside from writing, I like to sing, play keyboard and guitar, study Aikido, paint and draw, play Dance Dance Revolution, and direct soap operas starring my collection of Bratz dolls. I'd appreciate it if you would vote or comment on my poems. Criticism is what keeps me alive, so don't hold back. <3 and luck to you, and may you find what you're looking for...)

The Best Poem Of Kim McInnis

I Want

to be the face you wake up to
- to stay up late waiting for you
to curl up in your arms
- to feel your breath on my cheek
to melt into your smile
- to get lost in your eyes
to haunt your every fantasy
- to unravel your deepest emotions
to case your footprints
- to cry on your shoulder
to drown in your aura
- to quote your every word
to be marked your forever
- to be all you've dreamed of
I want
to confess my darkest secret
- what is Love?

Kim McInnis Comments

Matthew Hyatt 26 March 2005

Kim is a very good poet who has emotion coming out of her ears. To those like poetry hound who say her poems aren't good well they can take a hike. SHE ROCKS! ! ! . I hope you keep the poems flowing. Your biggest fan, Matthew Hyatt

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Sandra Osborne 14 January 2005

I was told much the same thing when I was young, long ago. Well, so what? Age almost always rages at youth. And talent in youth is much rarer than in adults, keep writing. Do it for yourself.

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Herbert Nehrlich1 13 January 2005

To my great surprise, while deciding whether to comment here and spoil your day, I find another comment aalready here. You are NO poet. You may have a little talent, now and then things look so so and a smidgen more promising but overall you are cluttering up the site with plain dumb junk. As the previous correspondent notes, there is no effort put into these creations (or little) and there is nothing that even smells of originality. Yet you churn them out like an over-confident up herself wannabe poet. Perhaps you should find a different hobby as I don't think the kind suggestions of poetryhound will save the day. Read Witkovski (on this site and perhaps you'll get a laugh out of another one totally without talent. H

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Poetry Hound 13 January 2005

Sorry Kimberly but I just don't think this stuff is very good. You have a lot of emotion, which is good, but your poems are not original and you don't seem to have put much effort into crafting them. I think you should read a lot of poetry by established poets, find some that you like, get to understand why they are recognized as being great, and let them influence you. My two cents.

0 0 Reply

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