Kevin Olsen: Poet

“Who Knows”         1-15-2000

You can’t expect to know the melody of the note.
To feel the pain you must bathe in acid rain.

Only a lonely child
Knows the surety of a friend.
Only a broken woman knows the joy behind a smile.
Only a blinded girl knows the peace within a color.
Only a dying man knows the time behind a while.

Only a cold, lost one
Knows the warmth within a home.
Only those crushed by hate know the ecstasy of love.
Only a woman can understand the happiness of birth.
Only a frozen, forgotten life knows the peace come from above.

We take for granted life. We live out from our hopes.
But we can’t fully know the burn till we’re bitten by the rope.

Sonnet 9 is called “Pumpkin Weather,” which I think is a very appropriate poem for today.  This time of year is my absolute favorite. Autumn days are like autumn air; crisp. Everything crunches and crackles.

Keep in mind that ”My Life in a Book” is my first collection of poems. Though they’re not a good representation of where I am today they do show where I’ve come from. So enjoy this piece of me.

“Pumpkin Weather”     Sonnet 9             11/3/99

Golden hues spread far and wide,
Dazzled by a hint of red.
All is glazed with misted ice;
Jack’s touch of magic blend.
People donning thick, dark clothes:
Sweaters, jackets, gloves and cords.
A child laughs; red-tipped nose,
And leaves his mittens on the porch.
All moments pause . . . .
Familes make more time to share.
Cutting out orange faces cause
Pumpkin smells to fill the air.
Pumkpin weather- a simple season
When no one cries for rhyme or reason.

Please enjoy this selection taken from “My Life in a Book.” I wrote this sonnet on November 9th, 1999. I’ve always been in love with the rain. It’s so human with its erratic personalities. I hope this poem does at least one of its facets justice. Please let me know what you think.

“Pelted Ground”      Sonnet 6

Storming. Rain falls like giant tears
Washing away the wounds of the Earth.
Pouring. Causing some to hide in fear
While others share unbounded mirth.
In my soul I love the drone,
The pitter-patter of the pelted ground,
I fall asleep to the painted tone
Of the brightened wall of sound.
Through the day I do not cover;
Let the rain soak my soul.
Dripping wet, with my other
We slosh around, enjoy the whole.
And when the shower breaks, the puddles call to me
To jump in pools of scattered leaves.