QUESTION (a poem)

does every question have an answer?

life is full of questions
and not so many answers:

and for every question i ask
ten more spring into being

but the answers remain in place
waiting to see the light of day

yet the light of day only reveals
itself to those who listen closely

to the questions that haunt us
and drag us deeper into madness


ORDER (a poem)

i prefer structure:
syllables, grammar,
sentences, order.

it is who i am,
deep within my blood,
made of red water:

the blueprint of my
being remains there,
in these thin canals,

and my brain agrees,
because what matters
is my rationale.


Well, this is another interesting poem, and I’m honestly not sure where it came from. Personally, while I enjoy a certain degree of order in my life, I’m also very easygoing when it comes to my day to day existence.

That being said, I know a lot of you guys do truly value structure in your lives, so maybe you can relate to this desire to keep everything in alignment as you see it. Some argue that people can change; others argue the opposite, but I do believe each of us is programmed differently and we all have various components to what makes us who we are.

Today’s goal for us all should be this: Do we crave structure, or do we not? What are the positives and negatives of both thought processes? All up to you, my friends. ❤


Thank you guys again for supporting this journey. We are over halfway done now, but we’ve still got some more poems to go through. Hope all is well with you, wherever you are! ❤

-Katie Kay



MIRROR (a poem)

this morning i caught
sight of a girl staring
at her reflection. she
watched herself with
curious eyes, admiration
coating each lens. i’m
not sure how long she
stared at herself, but it
was long enough for me
to think: am i wrong
to be the opposite? i
want nothing to do
with my reflection,
because when i catch
a glimpse of it, glass
shreds across time, space,
distance–and scratches
the coating of my eyes.


Well, this is an interesting poem, for sure, but it’s based on something I actually did see yesterday. In the middle of class, I caught a girl watching herself in the reflection of my blank computer screen. I looked over, completely baffled as to how long she was going to stare at herself, and it was for quite some time. While I think she was just bored, it was a very poetic moment to me, considering that she felt comfortable enough to admire herself for so many minutes.

I’m somebody who hates the mirror. Whenever I glimpse my own reflection, I scowl and look away. It isn’t because I’m super insecure about myself; I just never have enjoyed observing my qualities and thinking, “Okay, I’ve got good eyes,” or, “Wow, my nose is shaped weird.”

No, thanks.

Personally, mirrors expose my emotions in a physical form. It allows me to see myself for how I appear to others, and I’ve never been one to hold emotion well. So while I know people can read me like a book, I don’t want to read that particular book myself.

Weird, I know, but it’s from a place of honesty.


Thank you guys for joining me on this journey! We are now halfway done with this series, so, if you’re like me, you’re probably thinking: It’s about time! When is she going to produce new material?

Well, we’re getting there. But in the meantime I hope you enjoy some of these poems. ❤

Until tomorrow,

-Katie Kay



LISTEN (a poem)

a word has the power
to transform you in
a second or an hour

a voice has the skill
to send your hot skin
into the coolest of chills

an ear has the gift
to listen with love
before you drift


because no one listened


Some humans love to talk. A lot. So much that we find ourselves thinking: How do you have so much to say from that mouth of yours? Others love to listen, to the point that we find ourselves thinking: How do you have so little to say from that mouth of yours?

There is balance in both, but today let’s focus on listening. Consider your most important relationships, and think to yourself: Why do I value these relationships so much? There’s probably a common history, shared experiences, and many conversations had. And what’s a very crucial element of conversation?

Listening to another person.

When we don’t listen to others, we’re stifling our relationships from potential growth. And a person can really tell if you are listening or not, so it is very important that you do. If not, your relationships will suffer.


Again, I’m sorry for such a short post, but life is getting busier and busier! I hope you all are doing well, and I’m trying to read as much of your content as possible. ❤ Please bear with me in these next few months.

Until tomorrow,

-Katie Kay.



KITE (a poem)

tethered to a string,
suspended in glory,
is a bright crimson red kite:

it floats in the wind,
a symbol of freedom,
launched into the dark unknown.

and it hangs up there,
as high as it can go,
waiting for the forceful tug

that will bring it down,
and its freedom with it,
trampled by those on the ground.


Remember when you were a tiny kid, and all you wanted to do was go fly a kite? Except most days there was no wind, or your parents wouldn’t take you out to the park, or whatever excuse… Well, yeah, I don’t remember flying a kite all that often, but when I did, it was always a pretty cool experience.

Today’s kite is a symbolic reference to whatever you want it to be. Whether it’s freedom for you or something else, we toss our kites into the air, hope the wind catches them, and then sometimes they fly off. But eventually we have to pull our kites back to the earth, and then we tend to forget about them.

Weird poem, I know, but I’m about to take a major written aviation test tomorrow, so I’m strapped for time. That being said, I will be producing more quality content soon, and thank you for bearing with me on this journey.


Thank you guys for reading today’s post! You guys are the best. I’d also like to take this moment as a special time to reflect and remember the lives lost on September 11, 2001. 9/11 was a dark day in the United States’ history, and even after all these years we carry scars from the terrorist attacks that occurred then. So as you go about your day today, please keep a silent prayer for this country and this world, and that we all continue to have the freedoms we have been so carefully gifted. ❤

Until tomorrow,

-Katie Kay.




JOURNEY (a poem)

your journey in life
is never guaranteed:

you wonder, am i
ever truly free?

and i do not know
the answer quite yet

but one day i will,
after we have met


Hello, my dear readers! Today we’re embarking on a tiny ship bound for the inner sanctum of our minds. While onboard this ship, I want you to toss away any distractions and concentrate on the ebb and flow of our oceanic imagination. We’re tossed by waves in moments, and the next second it is as calm as can be: Yet what we’re headed somewhere, and even if we are unsure of the destination, it’s out there. We’ve just got to get to it first.

I’ll be honest: This poem is ridiculous. It starts out with the narrator (I guess me? Imagine yourself in the narrator’s shoes, please) questioning his or her freedom, and then heads down to: “Basically I’ll know my freedom when I’ve met the right person.”

Let’s just say, I’m not really in agreement with this theory. I think you find freedom in yourself and your choices, but this is what I wrote, so we’re analyzing it. Maybe some have found freedom and their journeys through other people; I would argue that my journey is headed one way, and it’ll be better with people on the same boat as me, but not simply because one person has influenced my thinking in any way.

I think I’m rambling now, so we’ll end it on this note: Be yourself, and trust that you will make it to where you want to go at some point. 🙂


Thank you, my dear readers! I wish you all a great day, and I hope you are happy and healthy. ❤

Until tomorrow,

-Katie Kay.



ISLAND (a poem)

my mind is an island
away from the shore

a hidden location
isolated more

as each mile farther
we cruise on the sea

i wonder if you will
yet come across me


Nine days in! Amazing. Today’s post is a short one, but I definitely wanted to share this little guy with you all. “Island” is a sad little poem, and I’m not sure where it came from, but I still think it has a deeper meaning we all can find value in.

At least for me, I know that when I’m struggling, I lock myself up tight, and my mind is no exception. People want to know what’s wrong with me, but I feel as if the waves are carry me farther and farther away from land, until I eventually realize I’m too far out and I need to swim back to safety.

Of course, what if one gets so far out… That he or she must plant themselves in the middle of the unknown? And then… Things happen, and life goes on, and then aloneness sinks in?

Today I challenge you to be on the lookout for anyone who seems to have walls built around them, and just be kind. We never know what is going on in someone else’s world, and even a few moments of stopping to chat and show kindness will restore many people’s faith in this craziness.


Thank you guys for bearing with me in this time. I hope you all have a fabulous start to your week, and I will write more for tomorrow!

Until then,

-Katie Kay.



HOME (a poem)

they say
home is where the heart is


my heart’s
two thousand miles away

i say
home will be there waiting


for me on that sweet day


Thank you guys once more for joining me on this September Poetry Series! We are already over a week into this project of mine, and I’m enjoying this outlet immensely, so thank you for your support over these next few weeks.

Today let’s talk about a word that has very different meanings to all of us: Home. Take a moment to yourself, breathe in deeply, and close your eyes. Consider what home means to you, because I guarantee it has a wildly different image to you than it does to me.

Is it the people who make your home so special? Is it the place, or the food, or the pup barking at you for a snack? Whatever it is, there’s a place that is home to you. For some, it may have more negative imagery, and for others it is more positive.

For me, it’s (mostly lol) positive. As I finish out this last semester of college in California, my heart still aches for my true home that is two thousand miles away in Tennessee. So this poem is a little reminder that home really is where the heart is, whether that be with  a romantic interest, your fat cat, or your amazing family who wishes you’d never gone in the first place.

Appreciate your home. ❤


Thank you, my dear readers, for supporting me! You guys mean the world to me, and I mean that. I was just talking to a friend about how you guys are such strong supporters, and you are the ones who make this blog worth it to me!

Well, until tomorrow…

-Katie Kay.



GUITAR (a poem)

for whatever reason
my brain’s got a
thing for music.

the music’s a salve,
a sweet drug that
turns me lucid.

i made a promise
to myself, i
intend to keep:

one day i’m gonna buy
that old guitar,
even if it’s cheap.

you called out to me
from a booth in
an antiques shop,

and you stayed with me
for hours, until
i had to stop,

because time had flown
by, and you took
me to the stars:

but i will come back,
never let you go,
my old guitar.


Okay, I promised you guys I would take a break from the dramatic poems of the past week and do something a little more light-hearted. Therefore, we’ve got this little guy, “Guitar,” which is pretty basic.

To give you guys some background, I’ll implore you to imagine yourself in an antiques shop surrounded by at least a hundred little booths of random knickknacks and relics of the past. Antiques shops are so much fun to explore, because you never know what you’ll find, and one weekend in the beginning of August I found myself in front of an old guitar. While I play the ukulele, it’s not the same thing as the guitar, but my trepidation didn’t stop me. I knew I had to play this guitar, and the intense emotion that connected me to the instrument was almost ridiculous.

For whatever reason, I’ve always loved music. Some people are wired for it, and others don’t really care, but I’m definitely on the first boat. Maybe it’s the imagination in me, the almost constant desire to transport myself elsewhere, but music is a perfect outlet for escape.

So, I did make a little promise to myself on that August night: With the money from my first paycheck as a CFI (a certified flight instructor), I’d go back to that booth and buy that guitar.

Ridiculous, perhaps, but it’s a promise I intend to keep.

This picture is awful, but here is the guitar I will buy in a few months.


Thank you, my wonderful readers, for sticking with me during this first week of the September Poetry Series. You’ve chosen to read this, which makes you a very important part of my life. Thank you for that, and I’m blessed by your presence!

More poetry tomorrow.

-Katie Kay.