Flock of Morose


                        (spiraling abecedarian)



                beaks         cackling

                crows         descend

          darkening        ebony

              eclipse.        Feathered

                  flock        grows gothic

          gargoyles,        hawkish

                  head         ingesting

              insects,         jagged

                   jaws        knotted,

             keeling,         leading

          lemmings         matted

               masses        nibbling

                noose.        Obfuscating

            ominous         predictions,

                   pale         quests

              quickly         ravaged by

              riotous,         sinister,

               savage         trouble.

             Terrible,        unfathomably

                   ugly,        venomous

             vultures,        wicked

               winged        xenons

     expectorating        yellow

         yolky spew,       zooming at

                  zebus        angrily






The galaxies awakened hanging hopelessly

No longer tethered to the sparkling heavens

But instead, a torn black curtain with lights

Barely flickering, the air hot, toxic and dead.


After evil shot like a meteor through space

The atmosphere was a dank, murky swamp

Cluttered, bleak with lifeless masses of rock,

Debris, splattered elements and inert gas.


Little Mayhem


The cabal of malachite creatures was small but mighty, grotesquely scaly

With bat-like wings cloaked in coarse hair, and piercing ultra-violet eyes

We stood transfixed, amazed, and deeply horrified at the traffic of aliens

As they stomped with tiny paws but loud precision across the dusty terrain

Occasionally a wing, the color of midnight, would swiftly clutch and crush

One tiny, shivering gray beetle-back prey in their jagged, jaundiced jaws

Until they reached their waiting ship, round glass, like polished dolomite

Swirly vivid colors like a marble, they ascended into the little door single file

Lifting off with a roar and a poof, and a little dent and tiny tracks left in the sand.


Horror Show




Kills me

She whispered aloud 



He rolled

Over in bed



Without mouth

Dying without breath.


About the Poet

Kathleen A. Lawrence has had poems published in Rattle (Poets Respond), Star*Line, Eye to the Telescope, Scryptic, Silver Birch Press, haikuniverse, Silver Blade Magazine, The Wild Word magazine (Germany), Altered Reality Magazine, Undertow Tanka Review, New Verse News, and Proud to Be: Writing by American Warriors, among others. Recently her poem, “Just Rosie” was nominated for a 2017 Pushcart Prize and a 2018 Rhysling Award. Her poem “Vampirette” was also nominated for a Rhysling Award.