Monday Notes: Update #3

I’m one of two sponsors for a POETRY CONTEST! That means that if you enter and win, then you will receive a copy of The Unhappy Wife and Daddy, among other prizes, like money.

poetry-contest-flyerI agreed to sponsor this poetry contest because the theme is self-care/self-love, which is something that I’ve been promoting for a few years now, either on the blog, through my books, or in personal action. I place high value on self-love and self-care, and if you’re a poet who does too, then please consider entering.

Also, I agreed to participate because I trust and follow the poetry contest’s host,  Yecheilyah Ysrayl and one of the judges, Lisa Tetting. They’re both fabulous bloggers and self-published authors whom I admire.

So, if you’re interested in submitting, then please follow the directions on the flyer, or click on it, which will direct you to the PBS blog for more information. But don’t wait too long. Entry submissions close July 31st.

Most of all, GOOD LUCK to all of you poets!

Monday Notes: Revolution (a Haiku) ✊🏾🕉✊🏾

Sometimes my brain thinks in Haiku. I cannot explain it, nor would I ever try. It just is. Here’s an example:

I’m walking around
with an OM tat on my arm,
promoting oneness.

But people challenge
this concept with constancy,
detaching themselves.

You’re white and I’m black.
He’s Jewish and she’s Muslim.
They’re poor and we’re rich.

Who cares? What matters?
I wonder as we bicker.
Who gains from such rifts?


I know the answer.
It’s a rhetorical thought.
Hegemony rules,

if we allow it.
Otherwise, can’t we create
a new world order?

Revolution. © 2017 K E Garland. All Rights Reserved.

Feel free to add a verse. How do you think we can come to understand we’re all one? Do we need to try or will it just happen naturally?

Monday Notes: Haiku #3 (Love)

Haiku #3

img_4159Sometimes a Haiku comes to me as a result of a specific thought. I work through it in my Notes section until it’s as clear as possible. This one came from the phrase, “I can love that person…but from a distance.” This phrase always seemed not loving to me at all. Tell me what you think about the Haiku or the phrase.


I Know You

I know you.
Your mother was abusive.
Your father left for another family.
But still they are not responsible for your happiness.

I know you.
Your sister was drug addicted.
Your brother molested you.
But still they are not the reason you cannot smile.

I know you.
Your stepmother ignored you.
Your stepfather mistreated you.
But still you cannot blame them for your sad circumstances.

Love your self.
You are not an abused daughter.
You are not an abandoned child.

Know your self.
You are not your sister’s illness.
You are not your brother’s problems.

Know your worth.
You are not an unimportant stepdaughter.
You are not your stepfather’s rage.

You can become responsible for your own happiness.

©2015 kegarland. All Rights Reserved.

The Future: A Sonnet (ABBA ABBA CDC CDC)

What does the future hold somebody asked?
The question is common and queried much.
‘Tis joyful to predict the future’s touch
Perhaps, but no one knows forthcoming tasks.

It’s fun to guess prospective worlds unmasked,
Dreaming of experiences and such.
Imagining things not yet in our clutch.
I will share why this is useless at last.

One can only live in one time and space.
Our present day is all that we have now.
Future’s not here; the past can’t be replayed.

Tomorrow’s not promised, that’s what they say.
Promised tomorrow’s are not given thou.
So, be present for what happens today.

© 2015 kegarland

Ode to Dove


Oh Dove dark chocolate, I’m glad to have found thee.
Dr. Oz praises you; what more proof does one need?
You my dear Dove are made perfectly.

Each night after dinner, it’s never too late,
to settle down and engage in a girl’s ideal date.
To unwrap the red foil and read the message that awaits.

Dove, you’re so clever. You know just what to say
to make me feel special at the end of a day.
“To be fabulous and flawed,” you said that was okay.

I appreciate the words you’ve written just for me.
They go well with the silk chocolate making me healthy.
I lament you’re so small and our time seems fleeting.

Spending much more time is a dream I once cried.
But nothing last forever, that’s just a part of life.
That’s why I’ve decided to have at least five.

I shudder at the finality of this last bite,
carefully place the bag back in my drawer for the night.
And smile knowing our next meeting will make the day right.

© 2015 kegarland

Prose as Poetry

If I didn’t have hands, then what would I do? I’d have no way to profess my love for you, except between these lines of poetic prose, which I would have to speak. My words would become verbose showers, raining down and around your very being. Expressions of love would become lyrical lingos, all because I didn’t have hands. If I didn’t have hands, then what would I do? Oral language would be even more essential. No more love notes throughout the day. Instead, I would await your arrival each evening. And then, precisely at five twenty nine, I would provide an outpour of poetics proving my heart’s desires. You would have to listen intently to the sound of my voice because I wouldn’t have hands. But luckily I do have hands my love. Hands to devote each keystroke towards promoting our love’s devotion. Hands to caress your soul with written sentiments. Hands to press each letter forming just the right words. If I didn’t have hands, then what would I do? How would you know I cared?

© 2015 kegarland


No mist, or cloud could describe the mass.
A mother’s love lost, replaced by fog.

Its thick, white shroud covered my heart
Posing as protection, blocking my view.

Some days more dependable than loves shut out
The cloak became a comfortable part of me.

This fog and I were once the best of friends.
But I’d rather it had been my mother’s love.

© 2015 kegarland