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kimberly j gray

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Member Since: May, 2012

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Featured Book
The Last Horseman Excerpt 2
by B. B. Riefner

This excerpt introduces the man who will become immortal, George Arnold, the last horseman. Through audio tapes, George explains the US, and more specifically Baltimore, ..  
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Books by kimberly j gray
by kimberly j gray
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Prose from my book.



and so,

she refused to ponder

why she was dry

when water poured from the sky

and lizards scattered for cover

she could not be penetrated

not even by nature

and so she walked with her cane

both hips out of joint

while smoking a menthol

never a worry to be different

bruised ankles and a slippery umbrella handle

kept her mind working

read into that all that you will

she minds not of your opinion

one single droplet

found on pavement

had her mesmerized

wanting to squish it

but could not bend forward

or tumble she would

ugly she truly was

to the degree of scary

side note of an information tidbit

huffed then and proceeded to limp

the garden was wet but still not she

cactus were buried amongst the arrangement

all rooted for future growth

yet many dead, pedals brown

when all should be sketched

charcoal stones dirty from bugs

earths dirt seemingly the cleanest element

must rectify these dead beings

able and ready having not able to get wet

not work but an act of bravery

hips screaming she still persevered

finishing her sculpture of nature by early afternoon

she moved forward to strut her journey

head facing down

no sign of happiness even when she tried

she bitched and moaned

how hard done by was she

not liked by a soul

she loved no one

adored herself

spoke rudely to agitate

yelled at younglings

kicked stray cats

with the power to know

just how to disappear

timing was critical all the time

allow her the space

she will steal it all

listened to everything

so ammunition was ripe

tasted her bad breath with delight

hairy chin as the elderly sport

careless of appearance to delight

seeking refuge in her plastic bags

the cart that stored them was faulty

one wheel flat, another wobbly

held exactly what she needed in life

her skin was plastic

made of colors

torn and stretched

to encase her life

protect her assets

coffin her rubbish

maybe she tasted bitter

maybe not

but onlookers swear she took her shots

hot to rumble anyone

like fried eggs, her center was soft

she led on to new passengers

smoked a pack a day

with black tea stained teeth to prove it

she smiled often to gross someone out

snickered at their reaction

her cart was having a trial

mechanic she was perfection

the cart would soon skateboard again

determined at any thought she lived

every now and again she could be spotted

gluing her shoes to keep her soul

who judge her, how long did she live

those types are delicately snobby

still the water dropped from the sky

yet not touching her one drop

maybe magic held this old woman

maybe fluke attacks to her being

pages of coupons lying to herself

where there is no money one must pretend

seeking refuge in handouts that begged

sought-after compassion to spite her demeanour

kill them she thought at 1st and offering

one that would save her for the next hour

giraffes slowly walk by this rainy day

birds were hiding in towering trees

worms were not afraid

it was them that had to be eaten

to survive the war on water

she left her life a while ago

now just functioning as she must

proud of her anger she moved forward

ate her worms and fixed her cart

in her matrix she was immortal

meeting for nothing

despising the people

even animals large and small

make no apologies

and found herself thirsty

raised her face towards the sky

opened her mouth

it took more than 1 droplet

refreshed she smiled blackening teeth

and turned to stare at a stranger


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Reviewed by William Huff 5/28/2012
It's near impossible to put into words how much I love this remarkable poem, and yet, Kimberly does it all the time, spins magic with her words...

Reviewed by Ronald Hull 5/26/2012
I have seen that woman, and you have described her perfectly. This is quite a tour de force of a poem.

Reviewed by kimberly gray 5/25/2012
. Erin Kelly-Moen

O my thank you so much, I am in the beginning of publishings books and completely insecure LOL your words mean everything, thankyou
Reviewed by Erin Kelly-Moen 5/25/2012
Brava! I absolutey loved this piece, Kimberly!! I always yearn for droplets. This line excelled:

one that would save her for the next hour

and this:

gluing her shoes to keep her soul

Each line carves her 'out' of Life, and 'in'. Wow, I'm exhilarated and exhausted here, and sad. Great writing!

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Reviewed by richard cederberg 5/25/2012
a riveting, verging on gut-wrenching, waterfall flow of cerebrations (with subtext that seems autobiographical) depicting starkly, in my mind, a singularly dispossessed soul secretly desperate to overcome her demons. Your penniless hardened protagonist is aptly evoked (IMO) with: "she could not be penetrated, not even by nature" and "gluing her shoes to keep her soul". A poem prevailing with absorbing images and substance! Enjoyed!
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