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Kimmy Van Kooten

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Member Since: Aug, 2006

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My Little Friends in The Basement
by Kimmy Van Kooten → (All Poetry by Kimmy Van Kooten)
   Rated "G" by the Author.
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...Such a dreary place to conduct
a Mass


REVISED and REPOSTED



The basement was a scary place
I can still hear how that old door creaked
I couldn’t see without a light
to where I was about to brave my flight

The stairs went down
to a kind of Hell
With splintered rails and
a dank rank smell

The windows so small above my head
revealed the ground of a garden’s bed
The roots that grew between the glass
Such a dreary place to conduct a Mass...

When I was a little girl
this is exactly what I would do
with unlit candles all about the room
Where abstract walls glistened, majestic hues...

With hand picked flowers,
I graced that tomb
and the neighborhood kids, I lured with reason
For I knew to God that this was pleasing!

The altar I created from some old cinder blocks
Posed with Mom’s old winter frocks
My arms outstretched just like a priest
I performed the prayers to share His feast

Bean bags and stools became their pews
Lord, I did this in remembrance of You!
A child’s way to tell the Truth
All my little friends, who didn’t get to go to church

I’d bless that whole wheat flattened bread
hold it in the air and genuflect
We’d drink grape juice and pretend it was wine
Sipped so seriously, one at a time

Do this...I’d say, "In remembrance of Me"
Bow my head on solemn knee
I guess I felt a need to share
I just wanted to teach them our "Lord’s Prayer"

And know that always, my friends would be...
Raised up to heaven right next to me!
And deep in my heart, I’d always know!
In The Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of The Holy Ghost,


Amen!


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 Reviews of "My Little Friends in The Basement"
Reviewed on February 11, 2007
Aww, that was so spiritual as a little one.
Who knows what effect or affect it had on them, well like to think it turned out to be good. Regardless, I'll bet they still remember it.

Have a great day,
...Heart of an Artist...

Reviewed by Flying Fox Ted L Glines (Reader)
Reviewed on February 6, 2007
Somewhere, right now, near Baghdad, someone kneels to pray right next to a body of a buddy, and his supplication goes up to mingle with those of the basement congregation.

Well done!

Ted

Reviewed by Blue Sleighty
Reviewed on January 13, 2007
That was cute and tearfully meaningful at the same time. Awesome write!

Reviewed on January 7, 2007
This write is from your heart and memories
Brought on pleasant smiles plenty!
Kimmy~!
Thank you for sharing your hearts memories!
WArm HuGs, WArrior Sheeeoxxo

Reviewed by Tamara Perlin (Reader)
Reviewed on January 5, 2007
I can't believe you actually did that! ;) So Celestial! It's funny that you remember this, all the things we forget from our childhood. Love the poem, I could truly picture it!
Love YOU, Mara

Reviewed by CJ Heck
Reviewed on January 4, 2007
What a lovely poem, Kimmy -- this is what childhood is all about. Their naive innocence is so precious.
Love,
CJ

Reviewed by Laura Mayer (Reader)
Reviewed on January 3, 2007
This poem revealed again to me what a beautiful soul you are. Hugs, Laura

Reviewed by Lew Duffey
Reviewed on December 28, 2006
Wonderful! Except ye be as little children.
God Bless,
Lew

Reviewed by A PAX
Reviewed on December 28, 2006
wow
I never heard of kids who played church
thats fantastic
baptism too?
happy new yrs
pax A

Reviewed by J. Allen Wilson
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Beautiful Kimmy...excellent piece

Allen

Reviewed by William Bonilla
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Outstanding piece Kimmy
enjoyed much
Peace be with you

William
Love & Peace

Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Beautiful pen. Enjoyed

Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Wonderful offering....God Bless!!

love Tinka

Reviewed by Rosemarie Skaine
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Beautiful thoughts. Children really are the pure in heart. Excellent write. R

Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Interesting poem

Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
I agree with Rusty. It's not where that counts, it's your intentions. Great poem. Victor

Reviewed by Georg Mateos
Reviewed on December 27, 2006
Although I am supposed to be too old to remember my own little friends...excellent poem Kimmy, thanks for taking me back there.

Reviewed by jude forese
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
i could visualize this scene without effort ... a sign of a excellent poem ...

Reviewed by Rusty Daily
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
It isn't where, but what is in your heart. Good one Kimmy
Rusty

Reviewed by SHERRY HEIM
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
Our basement was scary, too. A sort of concrete tomb with stairs that were narrow and somehow always damp, even in Southern California. The door was flat on the ground, like a cellar door and it had to be lifted to access the stairs. The air was hard to breathe and it always smelled musty. But down in the basement in tightly closed containers were all of the fruits and veggies from our canning, all the old "dress up" clothes, old toys and teddy bears, mamma's old school books, old photo albums from generations passed, locks of hair and baby teeth. It all kind of mixed together into a stew of scary intrigue. Nice work, Kimmy, you brought back memories I had forgotten.
Take care,
Sherry

Reviewed by Felix Perry
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
What a wonderful childhood memory, and being raised as a RC myself I served mass as alterboy for 7 years in the days when Latin was still said and the alter faced away from the people. This brought back childhood memories of those times.

Fee

Reviewed by Joyce Bowling
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
I loved this! My friend you've touched me deeply with this write...we
too played church, not to mimick or make fun, but our own little way to worship. Your write brings back so many memories, we didn't have church in a basement, had we a basement we probably would have, we had services out on the back porch. The porch was the pulpit, and the yard lined with blocks and boards served as the pews for our congregation. I'll never forget one of our friends prayer request. Keep in mind she was about nine at the time...she asked for the church to pray for her lost husband...he surely needed to be saved...so glad that I stopped by, brought back many memories, also reminds me of our church services today. Loved it!
Blessings :-)
Joyce Bowling

Reviewed by Ed Matlack
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
You sure your little friends are not just in your own personal attic, I know I have many that I speak too in my upstairs...;) Ed

Reviewed by Brett Moore
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
Well penned. "The stairs went down to a kind of Hell" - I thought what an ironic line this is.

Thanks, Brett

Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
Reviewed on December 26, 2006
Oh Kimmy what a great laugh you gave me tonight! This was one fine poem, God Bless, Holly


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