Biography of Tim Kitchen
It was certainly a new experience for me when I first started writing Poetry. I remember my father Fred Kitchen had written numerous poems, so maybe it’s in my genes. I certainly was not a person who appreciated poetry at all, to be honest. However, I do take a lot of pleasure from listening to and reading the lyrics of songs. I will never be a Wordsworth or a Taupin but none of us should be afraid of just being ourselves and doing things our own way. I think this love of lyrics has influenced my preference for rhyme.
Although I didn’t actually start writing poetry until well into middle age, it has certainly given me a fulfilment I would never have thought possible. My inspiration comes from a variety of directions but it would be wrong of me to offer too much explanation. I believe people read a poem or listen to the words of a song and relate to it in their own way.
My poems had not been read outside of my own family and I thought they might not be good enough to be honest, for me to go public with them. But I took the plunge and decided to go public via the internet. My wife had shown me an advert in a local paper for submissions to an online poetry magazine. It resulted in two of my poems being published and me receiving some confidence boosting encouragement. Making me realize my poems might actually be worth reading. So I started using poetry websites and at last I’m being read and accepted as a poet. At the same time I’m now enjoying poetry written by other like minded people.
Tim Kitchen Poems
Little girl, trying to sleep in your bed don’t listen to the sound of the bombs nearby just close your eyes and try not to cry and let your brother sing you a lullaby.
Faith. My faith was never a beacon of light more of a flickering candle at night.
The poet still writes, the singer still sings of love, romance and passionate things. Yet intimate strangers you are today standing close but seeming far away.
Where Are They Now
Is my Mother with the angels in her heavenly seat. And does she watch over me with angels at her feet.
The Old Vicar
An old man sits on a churchyard bench with his memories of times long ago. When he was the Vicar of the church and the people he’d come to know.
A little boy sits in a prison cell in a land across the sea everyone knows he is innocent but nobody sets him free.
You were always there to welcome me, if I came to call and I'd reach out to touch you, as you sat there in the hall. Happiness was yours, just watching the children play just like sleeping and eating, an important part of your day.
A Day Or Two
Your treatment is done you will soon be home. Just take it easy now and be sure to phone.
A Certain Smile
It was on my regular walk, when I first saw her with her beautiful red hair, flowing in the breeze. A lovely young girl, in her teens always happy to smile at me
Christmas With You
Christmas is always special with sounds of a yuletide song. But so many Christmas Days have sadly come and gone.
Just To Be Happy
Just to be happy is all I need no dreams of ambition or desire to deceive. Just to be happy with you by my side
A Better Way (Song For The Reduntant Man...
Now they don’t want me, now they don’t care might just as well go back to bed, up those wooden stairs. They took it all away from me, everything I knew now it’s all gone and there’s nothing I can do.
Door bells ringing, children singing Christmas songs, just for you.
The Wedding Poem
Just to be happy is all you need not dreams of ambition or desire to succeed. Just to be happy always caring and kind
When I woke up this morning and I saw you lying there
with the sunlight through the curtains shining in your hair.
I looked at you lovingly, while you lay asleep
then leaned over to kiss you, gently on your cheek.
We sat together at the breakfast table, with talk of the day ahead
as always you had something to say, to help me clear my head.
The phone rang, one of the children, needing you again
you patiently talked and listened to her, taking away her pain.