Karina Klesko: I have been a writer all my life. I began by writing Sunday school plans and children's books. For the past ten years I have been concentrating on eastern poetry. I was the Deputy-Editor-In-Chief of WHCReview, and Director of the WHCpoetrybridge. I am the publisher and editor of Sketchbook. I enjoy collaborative work. My work has been published in many magazines, journals in many countries. I established the OutlawPoets in 2004, a group for eastern and western poets to work together. Presently I am writing free verse to some extent and I am involved in three projects: the little black book of frac/tured poetry, a Love Anthology, and the Sketchbook. On the lighter side ...I am a shoe artist!

the American flag
homesteading in cajun country
a little blue heron

Lyric

(chorus)

the man
with no soul
he's always there
in the shadows
waiting
for the right time
to steal your heart
it matters not
that it has
been broken
already, many times
'cause he deals in
damaged goods
jagged edges
stroking
his ego,
his climax in
your eyes . . .
beyond
the gated iris
a serpent's grin
within dying embers

 

(verse 1)

I move
towards the edges
looking now
for reprieve
from the ache
left within my soul
at first I wander
with no sense
of direction, shadows
seeking me and I
seeking them
soon you stand
in full view, beckoning
me to your bed
I want you to replace
the void with raw
feral energy, the kind
that creates universes,
channels sound
into fires of new suns
exploding within/without
pretend to love me, this once

 

(chorus)

the man
with no soul
he's always there
in the shadows
waiting
for the right time
to steal your heart
it matters not
that it has
been broken
already, many times
'cause he deals in
damaged goods
jagged edges
stroking
his ego,
his climax in
your eyes . . .
beyond
the gated iris
a serpent's grin
within dying embers

 

(verse 2)

leaving
the way I came
dancing past
graveyards filled
with stone angels
in curls of brown
rose petals
moonlight washes
over my naked body
tears fall like rain
staining the granite
of another's
namesake
pinwheels turning colors
into sound
a flutter of wings
there you are
my feral partner
we've fallen
in love,
a trumpet's cry
re/calls sunrise
 

(chorus)

the man
with no soul
he's always there
in the shadows
waiting
for the right time
to steal your heart
it matters not
that it has
been broken
already, many times
'cause he deals in
damaged goods
jagged edges
stroking
his ego,
his climax in
your eyes . . .
beyond
the gated iris
a serpent's grin
within dying embers

 

 

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