poetry and more from Kenneth W Arthur

Tag God

The veil

The veil shall be lifted – nevermore! Forever the bride on cusp of matrimony caught in nervous pause before “I do” when love’s confidence crashes headlong with reality’s fear. Promises of happiness and better times – empty as the local… Continue Reading →

The Brazen Bard

The Brazen Bard Expeditions are risky. Moonflowers unfold beauty into darkness from which stanzas of our lives flow down the page. Or not. Much too can be said in a short haiku. Or what follows may hollow that first line… Continue Reading →

Forest bathing

Forest bathing I. … is what the Japanese call a walk in the woods with no agenda, no news of tyrants and atrocities. Embrace oak’s gruff coat, birch’s papery veneer, soak in ancient wisdom of quiet community knowing nothing of… Continue Reading →

The Interrogation

The Interrogation I gesture to the chair opposite. The old man strokes his white beard and looks grateful as he sits heavily with a grunt. I have just a few, but important, questions. He makes no response. What are we… Continue Reading →


Desire An impulse, light pressure to fingertips and words form and de-form. The poet, biologist of desire, seeks to discover, to understand life in the vacuum of the heart, sculpts the page, asking it the age-old, or perhaps old age… Continue Reading →


P.R.A.Y. When I put my lips against your ear and sweet praise preys from my tongue tracing the ticklish helix as it swirls deep toward ego: your beauty brightens my life, your strength is my bedrock, your loving kindness gives… Continue Reading →


Divinity There’s beauty in lightning. Momentary brilliance mesmerizes before we’re plunged into darkness once more. Untamed raw power streaks strikes apple tree mid-garden good and evil exploded into so much kindling. Throaty rumbling laughter dares us to come closer, threatening… Continue Reading →

Conversations with God

Conversations with God “Turn left,” she says. Confused, I ask “Why?” The black box responds, “Turn left now.” “Fuck that,” I mutter, holding the car’s wheel steady. “Recalculating.” “Heavy traffic ahead,” she says. Wanting an easy ride, I exit. Suggested… Continue Reading →


Searching (After John 20:15) Sobbing graveside, crypt empty and broken heart jilted by her lover. Why are you crying? Who are you looking for? We seek our gods behind grave walls too thick for invasion too deep to escape. No… Continue Reading →

I’ve Moved Out

I’ve Moved Out (a Golden Shovel, after Hafiz as translated by Daniel Ladinsky) Shall I look to some mothering God to soothe my pain and kiss my heart-aches or shall I, gutted by the barbs of your words, have nothing… Continue Reading →

« Older posts

© 2024 The Timid Poet — Powered by WordPress

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑