This was a project I did basically during the pandemic. I started writing a poem a day. Once ‘real life’ started again it got harder to write everyday, which is interesting.

poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

a hard thing

i said i’d do a hard thing
i gave my very word
but now the time is creeping by
and i feel absurd

i didn’t realize fully
how hard the thing would be
and now i’m looking at a choice
do i stay or do i flee?

the answer is quite clear
when you write it out
stay and do the hard thing
there really is no doubt

you have to keep your word
it has value beyond measure
to trust yourself when things get hard
a most highly valued treasure

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

out there

out there
only a speck
on the horizon
a boat
if you keep your gaze fixed
on the boat on the horizon
the speck out there
for a long time
you will find yourself
on that boat
unable to row home

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poetry, fun with rhyme, fun with words Kimberly LeClair poetry, fun with rhyme, fun with words Kimberly LeClair

charge

I’m out of charge
my phone just died
my laptop stopped
my willful side has been dried

He’s out of charge
his money’s gone
his gun won’t shoot
his name just John no more Don Juan

She’s out of charge
she missed the cape
she let them off
from red tape she did escape

We aren’t in charge
the time goes by
we work and try
we look to the sky and wonder why

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story poems, poetry, stories Kimberly LeClair story poems, poetry, stories Kimberly LeClair

Tadpole’s Tale

everyone called him Tadpole
not his actual real name
it stuck a long time ago
came from his favorite game

he always loved the river
would go there everyday
started catching tadpoles
before he had much to say

he would always put them back
right where they had come from
it was something in his spirit
to like this kind of humdrum

he would often simply sit there
with his feet stuck in the water
the shady trees kept him cool
as the days grew hotter

the river was his place
everyone could see
by this stretch of water
is where Tadpole loved to be

time passed on along
as it always does
the folks around grew older
we know where Tadpole was

in the spring the rains would come
the river would grow wild
it was a day like this
when Tadpole saw the child

across the raging river
from Tadpole’s special place
a vital little boy
a big smile on his face

he was running with a puppy
no doubt a new playmate
between the two and the river
there was no wall or gate

Tadpole sat and watched
it was a gorgeous thing to see
two souls open and joyous
the air filled up with glee

the puppy running circles
the little boy giving chase
they moved onto the riverbank
a sloping, slippery place

it happened in an instant
the puppy tumbled first
the boy followed right after
then Tadpole burst

up from his resting place
he dove into the rampage
the future holds its breath
for all unknown at this stage

the puppy flailed on the surface
Tadpole clutched him in real quick
but he couldn’t see the boy
the mud and sticks too thick

he looped his arm on a giant branch
lodged into the bank
he saw the boy’s leg float by
grabbed it just before it sank

hard to know how he did it
but he did it nonetheless
he heaved the puppy and the boy
up to solid ground — alive but a real mess

just as it seemed
the river would not win
the branch Tadpole clung to
snapped and floated in

straight to the rapids
rocks and wild water
the only creatures built for this
fish or maybe otter

Tadpole went under
he did not reappear
his fate was determined
this moment, day and year

the boy and pup got better
time passed, as it does with no fail
one final little note
here in Tadpole’s Tale

if you go down by the river
at a certain time of night
just before the sun is gone
when the light is just right

you can see Tadpole sit there
in his special perfect place
his feet stuck in the water
a smile on his face

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

you close your eyes

You close your eyes
Ready for a sweet sleep
Your thoughts begin
Spinning, like cotton candy
Sticky
Everywhere
Caught
Inescapable silk
Wandering Shelob’s tunnels
A waking nightmare
Will you be stuck here forever?
No light or friend to save you?
You open your eyes

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

some days

some days you are a boat
quietly floating on calm waters

some days you are the shore
pounded by mountainous waves

some days you are a fish
swimming in the great depths

some days you are a shark
hunting, ruthless, alert

some days you are lost
floating, afraid, holding hope

one day you were a kid
building sand castles and dreaming

some day you will be unseen
taken in by the expanse

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

a dream, a wish

a world of dreams
of fairies, wizards and magical dust
of trolls and bridges
those on the road you can’t trust

outside the white
of a morning snow fall
conjures a place of wonder
a still quiet call

i wish my window, a portal
the space in my mind, real
to walk that fantastical road
a dream i wish i could feel

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poetry, love each other Kimberly LeClair poetry, love each other Kimberly LeClair

another day

we wake again
to this big gift
maybe today you find
one heart to lift

a short hello message
a smile on your face
it takes less than you think
to make a good place

find a small thing
something easy to do
someday, remember
the other will be you

another morning
another day
another chance
to let love lead the way

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poetry, being silly Kimberly LeClair poetry, being silly Kimberly LeClair

the dishes pile up

i have become convinced
there is a creature of some sort
living in my kitchen
making dishes for me, his sport

the dishes pile up
he seems to have this trick
he makes them multiply
they go from two to ten so quick

i wake up to a mountain
of dish and bowl and spoon
all over the counters
plates and forks are strewn

this has to be some magic
i did not use that pan
how did it get there
this is his evil plan

he really is against me
he keeps mounting his attacks
the only thing i can do
is try to hold him back

the dirties keep on coming
the worst ones hard to rinse
a baster filled with oil
a pot with burned-on bits

he thinks I can’t do it
he thinks he will win
but I will keep on fighting
oh geez, the rolling pin!

my hands are wet and shriveled
my back is mighty sore
but i will win this battle
i will complete my chore

this creature in my kitchen
he may be a small myth
the mess might be coming from
the person i live with


a little fun rhyming for a friday
thank you so much for being here and reading….
now i have to go do some dishes
😉 🤣

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poetry, fun with words Kimberly LeClair poetry, fun with words Kimberly LeClair

revealing silence

to be forcibly put on mute
to be ordered to lose your voice
a modern sort of torture — seen as travesty

to want an experience of no sound
to seek a noiseless still place
a nearly impossible feat — seen as tragedy

the irony of silence in our modern world
a condition we abhor if ordered
a condition if desired not found

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poetry, being silly, fun with rhyme, fun with words Kimberly LeClair poetry, being silly, fun with rhyme, fun with words Kimberly LeClair

for the fun of it

this writing has been harder
than it used to be
I must have things in my head
that are blocking me

I seem to want to be
witty, clever, wise
say it all with some aplomb
make people surprised

but these are only smallish words
with no real big ideas
sometimes it is just good fun
to find a rhyme - tortillas!

today I will sound applause
at the value of pure play
something for the fun of it
nothing deep to say

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

the monster

did the monster visit you
was he in your mind last night
did he whisper all is through
nothing will be alright

in the deepest dark of end of day
this monster comes to all
it is the rarest one of those of us
who do not hear his call

when he visits late at night
the darkness forms a seal
shutters out all the light
a blackness you can feel

he weaves tales of pain and woe
a world perched on the brink
the fear spreads out, weighs you down
not possible to think

maybe it is lack of light
that brings him out to prowl
during waking hours
you rarely hear him growl

the thing about this monster
he may not be so real
get yourself a night light
see how that might feel

and if he keeps on coming
I will stay with you right here
that monster will not get you
you are not alone my dear

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

to keep going

to keep going when the trip gets tough
to keep walking when the way gets rough

if you want the prize much longed for
you have to press on, be strong more

you knew it would not be easy
that the hills might make you queasy

you set out, a dream in your heart
you have to keep going, through this hard part

as you strive and stride
let purpose be your guide

remember for what you aspire
that is the fuel for your fire

you must dig down way deep
your promise to you must keep

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

this place we call home

time stretched over furniture like silk
sun streaming in like flames of old party candles
memories hanging in corners
the breeze from an open door
agitating ghosts of prior guests
long ago arguments scurrying under the table
the dust of days past lies heavy
on this place we call home

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

to the sun

to pull the pieces together
to fill all the holes
to mend the fabric
to tune the controls

stop whirring and gnashing
and flying about
to settle in deeply
chart a clear route

no need for perfect
that is but a dream
just build a direction
start picking up steam

the planning is over
this trip has begun
a wisdom-filled compass
points to the sun

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poetry, fun with rhyme Kimberly LeClair poetry, fun with rhyme Kimberly LeClair

Borro and Pop

twin brothers
Borro and Pop
go on adventures
to the tippy tip top

they climb trees
and houses and buildings and walls
they climb mountains
and canyons and even ice falls

today they are climbing
a tree they named Willy
Borro and Pop
are nothing but silly

they make up games
and words and people
all the while
they climb a church steeple

why do they climb?
we might try to ask them
but we find they are off
to a mountain in Aspen

the thing that I know
about Borro and Pop
they will keep going
they won’t ever stop

they know who they are
they do what they do
in that they are lucky
how about you?

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poetry Kimberly LeClair poetry Kimberly LeClair

the hole

a hole opened up
a lot of people jumped in
they could not get out

a hole opened up
the hole kept getting bigger
more were falling in

my heart opened up
i wanted to close the hole
my heart was too small

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poetry, the sand series Kimberly LeClair poetry, the sand series Kimberly LeClair

sand (3)

We went to the beach
I was afraid of the water
and Dad bought me ice cream
We made sand castles

We went to the beach
I didn’t really want to drink
but everyone else was
Someone made a bonfire in the sand

We went to the beach
He had a blanket
and we had a picnic
I tried not to get sand in my hair

We went to the beach
I slathered everyone in sunscreen
and reapplied it every hour
The sand was everywhere

We went to the beach
I tried to hold his hand
but he pulled away
The wind made the sand feel like bullets

I went to the beach
I sat on a bench
and looked out at the water
The sand slipped through my fingers

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poetry, fun with words Kimberly LeClair poetry, fun with words Kimberly LeClair

shall we?

Should can be sticky
very hard to see
harder still to get out of
at least it is for me

Can seems so easy
Could may not be
Will has a lightness
somehow it feels more free

Might is a cop out
Would is a plea
Let’s is my favorite
because it is a we

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