A new poem

Autumn’s Promise

The promise of Autumn’s
Sweet
Chill
Kiss
Gives rise to energies forgotten
While in the midst of Summer’s
Sloth
Doldrum
Recline

Memories long dormant
Challenge and escape to the surface
Cloying
Aged
Musings

Tears well at relived
Joys and tragedies
Knocking
Calling
Embracing

Let down calloused walls
Allow childlike soul to
Emerge
Refreshed
Renewed

Ken Goree

New short story on the other blog, Becoming a Man.

The newest short story, Becoming a Man, is up on my short story blog. I was a bit rushed on this one. Anything that you notice, which I should correct, please point it out to me; preferably in a nice way.
http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

Next, on the Short Story Blog

The next story on the short story blog, due Friday, is another humor piece.  It is called, Come Dark.  This one was created from snippets of real life events, from my childhood.  Yes, my sister really did that too me.  I may embellish a detail or two; "improve" is what I like to call it.  I'm sure she doesn't remember it quite the same, but my version is "improved," and I was actually closer to 6-years-old during the true event.

http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

New Short Story

My latest short story is up on the blog.  This one is a bit of nostalgic recollection, mixed with a healthy dose of silliness.

http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com

Just realized I hadn't mentioned my short story post on the 15th, and with the next one due, next Tuesday.  This is a bit dark, compared to what I have been posting.  Here is the link: http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

New short story

Here is the link to today's short story:
http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/
I hope you enjoy it.
Ken

New Story

The new short story posted today, 3-15-12.

Just try not to sniffle.

The March 1st story posted yesterday

The March 1st story posted yesterday, on my short story blog.  You can see it at, 

http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

And a big thank you to Katie Johnson for her revising and editing suggestions.

The newest short story has been posted to the blog

The new short story, Roasting by an Open Fire, is online.  It is a bit sillier than the previous stories.  I hope you all enjoy it.

http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

New Short Story - Costa Rican Firewater (aka:Don Juan's Elixir)

http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

This is another personal narrative.  In 2007, I co-led an educational eco-tour trip to Costa Rica.  This story, which again has my daughter as one of the characters, was from one of our stops along the way.

Books 1, 2, and 3

Poetry books 1, 2, and 3 are available on Amazon, now.  You can also get them straight from the publisher at https://www.createspace.com/3667434

Short Story #2 Posted on Short Story Blog

Read the short stories at:  http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

The actual title of the blog has changed to "Ken Goree's Short Stories."  A friend pointed out to me that she felt a bit strange about signing up for "Ken's Shorts."  Oops, I guess I understand that issue.

Well, so far I have met my short story writing resolution, for January.  The first story went out on the first, and the second story is ready to go out tomorrow, January 15th.

It is a personal narrative, and a humor piece, all in one.  It is a memoir of a camping trip with my daughter, Carly.  I reviewed it, and am pretty sure there are no actual lies, though possibly a bit of stretching was involved.  Were anyone interested, I have another version that is excessively stretched.  I may post it in a few days, though I will not count it as a separate short story, for purposes of meeting my 2-per-month goal.  It is a bit childish, so much more appropriate for the sensibilities of the men in the audience.

One-twelfth of the way there, already?  This has a much different feel to it than the poetry blog had.

Revising and Editing

Over the week since the "year of poetry" ended, I have been going back to revise and edit my poems.  There has been some sighing and a great deal of cringing.  Now, as I look back, I wish there had been two of me: the first to do the writing as I did, and another to revise and edit before posting to the blog.  Yikes, the messes I am finding!

I feel blessed and thankful for all of the support that I received during the year.

More poetry?

The poem-a-day project has ended.  I don't expect to stop writing poetry, however, so poems will continue to show up here occasionally.  For those of you who are subscribed to this blog, you will get fewer emails now, arriving only when a new poem is added.

Thank you all for reading my poetry over the last year,
Ken

The New Year

So, 2011 is finished.  The new blog has started.  Yes, that's right, I am doing the short story blog.

I posted the first story, this morning, 1-1-2012.  The title is Nalley Bluff.

The new blog site is
http://kens-shorts.blogspot.com/

I hope you give it a try.

June Bug Shuffle

There once was a girlie named Catherine
Tying bugs onto strings set her gigglin’
Danced, looking excited
Need to pee, not delighted
Her poor panties, she left big stain therein


Ken Goree




For those of you who have never heard of the June Bug, the ones referred to in the title of this poem were in the southeast United States.  Every few years, when I was a kid, our family would go to visit my mom's relatives on the ancestral farm, in the Smokey Mountains of eastern Tennessee.  One of the things to do as kid in that area, if you are lucky enough to be around when the June bugs start swarming, was to adopt one as a pet.  This may sound lame, but it was pretty fun, because you could tie sewing thread to the beetle and take it for a walk ("flight").

I must mention, I was forced into writing this poem.  I had reminded the "real girl" about this "real event," earlier this year.  I didn't want to write the poem and embarrass her (internationally), but she kept reminding me to write the poem, so today, I did.  

We were standing on the back porch of the log cabin.  My grandfather built that cabin himself, from trees he cut and shaped with adze, ax and saw.  My father had just given us some of my grandmother's sewing thread and we were tying loops in one end and a June bug to the other.  After bringing the string, my dad took his leave of us. I was quite young, and not very dexterous.  The girl, was older and had her pet tied off and flying in moments.  Like any self-respecting little kid, I begged for help; said, "This is stupid;" whined; and pouted.  

Soon, I noticed that "the girl" was doing a dance while playing with her pet.  "Now, that is just showing off," I thought to myself.  Then, I realized there was something very familiar about the dance she was doing.  "What is it?" I thought.  "Hmm, what is it?" Then it came to me.  I knew the dance, I had done it a hundred times, especially at school.  This older girl was doing "The Pee-Pee Dance."  In her confusion of growing excitement over her pet and the growing pressure inside due to three bottles of old fashion Mountain Dew, straight from the glass bottle, which you had to use a bottle opener to get into.   The pressure won before she was able to figure out a way to tie off her pet and make it to the bathroom.  

I saw the growing dark stain on the front of "the girl's" faded bell-bottom blue jeans.  My first thought was, "That's what you get for not helping me get the leash onto my June bug."  Later, I realized that that hadn't been a very compassionate response to the girls distress ... much later ... like about ten minutes ago, while finishing this poem.  

So Little Left

So little left
Time
Pushing
Me
To
The
End

An appreciated finish
Is
All
That
I
Ask
For

What I’ve wanted
Is
No
More
Than
Your
Interest

If you Smiled
Then
I
Have
Been
Truly
Fulfilled

Your shaking dread
I
Fed
Without
Trace
Of
Remorse

Fluttering, warm hearts
I
Feel
A
Special
Kinship
With

Grand childish dreams
I
Pray
I’ve
Rekindled
within
You

Your clear presence
Has
Helped
Me
See
The
World


Ken Goree

Last Minute

The time is running late for me
I really should soon be there
I’m feeling a little jittery
I haven’t a moment to spare

This day’s been in the planning
Many a day before now
If as one of the planners, I was late
It’d surely cause a row

I guess this poem will have to wait
At least an hour or two
After a drink or two with friends
That’s when I think we’ll be through

Ah, now I’m back in poetic saddle
Grabbing my poem by rein
Urging it on to the finish
‘Til no other words remain

Now that I mentally return home to write
Hoping I’ll seem just a little bit bright
Pounding the keyboard on into the night
Last minute, one word, will finish it right


Ken Goree

Fading

As the
Supply of
Water and
Nutrients dwindles

As the
Attention of
Others diminishes
And wanes

As the
Time spent
Away from
Home lengthens

The time
Of celebration
And Gifts
Is fading


Ken Goree


The Christmas tree is about to go.  I think I’ll let her celebrate the coming of the new year with us, however.

Fibonacci’s Rabbits

How
Does
Rabbit
So increase
Itself to attain
A significantly larger
Population than it had previously so known?
With subtle variation he
Probably uses
The same means
As you
And
I


Ken Goree


I agree, this is an odd poem.  It came about as I was researching different poetic forms.  As I was doing so, I wondered whether anyone had based a poem on a Fibonacci sequence.  I didn’t find any.  However, I am sure there have been countless numbers of people who have done so, especially given the interest so many people have in the Fibonacci numbers. 

So, I chose to base the poem on an ascending, then descending syllable count: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 8, 5, 3, 2, 1, 1.  The reason I chose the content I did was,  I read an article about Fibonacci and how he came up with the sequence.  According to the article, Fibonacci came up with the progression when solving a problem in the growth of a population of rabbits, under ideal circumstances.