Stealing Visits/Global Poemic

I have been following Global Poemic for some time now, as they highlight words and artwork about the worlds experiences through Covid-19. I have enjoyed the many perspectives and experiences. Each of us has dealt with the stresses in our own way. Each of us has had to find our own way to wade threw the much of the last two years. It’s not over, but I am honored to have my piece ‘Stealing Visits’ stand alongside the works of other poets and writers as we seek to highlight our individual and collective battles.

Thank you to the Curators for reading and accepting my simple, but heartfelt peace.

Note: They are no longer accepting submissions as the project was meant to only continue for short time.

We thank all the poets and artists who contributed work. Global Poemic will publish accepted poems through July 2021 and will, after that, remain live online as an archive of what we have shared.

The Curators at Global Poemic

Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Only People

Only people
the flame of soul
is all you take
to heaven, you know.

All else crumbles
to dust and ash,
but flames of soul
are made to last.

All bodies
fall away, decay.
Wrappings mortal
times earthly prey.

But flames slip
through gaping fangs.
From eternity’s
edges to hang.

Emptied hands then
have a choice.
Hellish solitude,
or gems with voice.

Only people,
treasures that last,
are worthy to store
or to Jesus’s feet cast.

© 2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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A Six Word Story (31)

I love to watch the shadows grow. Some times the time goes fast and sometimes is crawls, but it’s always a blessing to watch.

When we rest, the world doesn’t stop spinning, time doesn’t stand still. But something inside of us changes and slows, and maybe even grows. Have you felt it?

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from Unsplash.com


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Contempt

Crumpled paper
creased beyond repair,
cast in exasperation
from a corner, glare.

Proof of irritation
an act of my contempt
for this, my situation
for being nonexempt.

A deadness percolates
thoughts refuse growth
the thing one loves,
slowly steeped in loath.

All a point of view
mutilated page
silence feeding ghosts
rising poets rage.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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The Truth and Lies of Poetry

There is power in poetic verse. Words roll off the tongue like music and lose us in the sway of emotions that flood each word. But what about the messages hidden within poetry?

There are many ways to hide truths and or lies behind emotions. Often poetry takes us on a path we don’t control and we discover answers to questions along the way. But not always. If the engine that drives a piece is emotion, it’s inevitable that the author will sometimes get it wrong. After all, we need many more things than love to survive this world, and those that love should definitely still use the phrase, “I’m sorry.” Still, poetry has at one time taught us these things as truth.

How do we sift through the half-formed thoughts, fragmented ideas, and coloured emotions of poetry? Is it worth it? It is, especially when the poet speaks to us of their own personal story, with words that journey to understanding.

I say, you will never find gold if you are not first willing to sift the rivers for it. Maybe that is what a poet is. A prospector, braving the cold river of emotion, the pan of language in hand, searching the sediment of life for nuggets of truth. Will we find gold? Or pyrite? Or nothing but unwanted rocks?

You will never know until you are willing to jump in that river or start a poetic journey. The key is to understand it’s a journey, and a fragment of a journey, not a whole.

I thank God every day for the gift of the written word, and the gems I have found in the gift of poetry. But I also know, not every word I write is truth. They are expressions of emotion. I am also aware that the things I believe in this moment will change, as it should. Life is continually teaching us. A person who stays the same is a person who never grows.

I pray I can grow with open eyes and mind, ready for the truth, but also aware of the lies. For searching for both is necessary for growth.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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A Six Word Story (30)

Sometimes I feel like an overturned cup of confetti… Until I remember cups are for holding liquid, not everyone else’s bits and pieces. Confetti wants to be thrown around, shared, and bring colour to the world.

Remember, it’s okay to throw those bits around, as long as you clean up after the party is over.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Hesitation

This heart has slowed,
longs to linger here,
where the past is distant,
the future unclear.

A hesitancy
to pick up life’s pace,
a straining to remain firmly in place.

Give me grace.

Unlike a crossroad
where choices must be made.
More like a settling,
a sinking in
of ways.

Smell the resignation
come wafting on the wind.
Stagnation that lingers
on boots,
and trouser hem.

Mix it with the drums.
Foreboding rhythms felt,
clashing with a heartbeat.
Wearied,
yet compelled.

Standing amid the street,
holding baggage fast.
Wondering
how long this lump in throat will last.

Change coming fast.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Truth

Not perception,
not reaction,
but what is.

Under veils,
under paint,
chip it off to reveal

something feared.
Revered.
Held at arm’s length.

Don’t look too close
one might choke,
if unready to face.

Still it waits.
Can’t be erased,
for it still is.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Lovers Getaway/Dwelling Literary

Dwelling Literary has again redecorated and on July 1st my piece, Lovers Getaway dropped as part of their BEACH HOUSE Issue.

BEACH HOUSE will continue to be an interactive experience on the home page for the month of July, after which all included pieces will remain in their Archives.

Dwelling literary continues to be a great sight to interact with and write for on a monthly basis. I encourage all of my friends to check out there monthly themes. Thank you!


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Would You Go?

If one could step out on waves, feel the liquid coolness flow, where would you go? Ride the tide, watch moonlight collide with creatures, microscopic soul.

Would the waves tickle, just a little, as they suck the sands from shore? To carry feet towards retreat… Outwards or inwards?
Would you need to know?

Melted life, filled with organisms strife, worlds humans don’t control.
All beneath tiptoes.

Would you be vapor or the waters solid? Would a dream tie the waist and tether amid the stars? Just real enough to hold one above oceans bazaar?

Would you want to go?

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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