Saturday, August 13, 2016

At Risk

I hate writing
about your eyes.

Your harem probably
already has, penning

clich├ęs about your
intensity. I lust.

I look away.
I can't handle

players. I can't
handle the way

you're most likely
going conquistador, cutting

me open. Your
laugh boasts behind

closed doors, mocking
my damn weakness,

my absolute inability
to walk out.


KMG

Friday, August 05, 2016

After some time, poetry sets in.

One Foot Away

It's because
you tickle me
when you wink.


I'm not sure
what to think
of your playfulness,
your player-ness -
painless or audacious?


I just know as I go
to sleep, you sneak in,
and I hide you.
Like contraband.
Katherine Gotthardt
Copyright 2016

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Concessions - draft of a poem

I haven't written poetry in a while, so please excuse this draft. I'm moldy.

Concessions 

My daughter smells
like popcorn
and sweat,
her love of movies
morphed
into lust
for work,
a teen's dream
materialized,
steamed away
the first day
by an asshole
middle manager.


"You don't know
what you're doing!"

Staff and customers
stare. "You have
to believe in yourself!"
"I do, sir," she says,
tying back tears.
 "I didn't want
to appear weak,"
she tells me.

She is
anything
but weak.

She's JROTC,
in a uniform
once a week,
a graduate
of Summer
Leadership School.
She's used to
being yelled at,
she says.
Her prisoner
is her cool.

My poor, tough
child, relegated
to $8.50 an hour
and the moods of a
power-tripping fool,
bossing around
a bunch of kids.

How far
will he go?
How far
will she let him?

Katherine Gotthardt
Copyright May 21, 2016
  


Sunday, December 20, 2015

Missing Mom

This early morning,
winter sun in my eye,
and I, in the driver's seat
of my neat gray compact,
leaned across the the seat,
opened the passenger door
to let in a worn-out thief.

He called himself Grief.
I offered him my car.
He said thank you,
but he wasn't here for that.
I offered him some cash
and a couple of unused gift cards.
He told me to put them back.
So I offered him some memories.
He shook his hairy head and said,
"You know what it is I want."

And so I surrendered my joy.

Saturday, December 19, 2015

Holiday “Spirits” are Bright in Prince William County, VA

The holidays are a time to eat, drink and be merry. And you can do all of the above at many of the breweries in and around Prince William County. If you’re looking for the perfect gift for the beer lover in your life, or perhaps you need a good brew to bring to a holiday party, shop local and sample some of these breweries’ delicious offerings to help you choose your holiday gifts. Here are some great local places to imbibe: READ MORE

Saturday, November 21, 2015

10 Things to Be Thankful For About a Home

This is the time of year to count our blessings and be truly thankful for all the good things in our lives. Sometimes we might take our homes for granted. But while we’re being mindful of the world around us and thinking about how our lives are enhanced by what we have, let’s take a moment to think about our homes. I suggest being proactive when it comes to maintaining your home so that your home can keep you warm and comfortable this holiday season. Here are some things to be thankful for in our homes. Read More...

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Autumn in Prince William County Virginia: Experience Our Natural Beauty

Whether you love to hike, camp, fish, horseback ride or simply enjoy the local plants and animals while you bask in autumn’s beauty, the Prince William County area has what you’re looking for. Here are just a few aspects of nature you can enjoy in this exceptional season...read more

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Draft Poem

Admitting

Dearest Friend,

I apologize for leaving you
alone for so long,
wondering if my wandering
had anything to do with you.
I'm so sorry. It did.

I admit, I couldn't look
your illness in the face,
the way your lipstick
slinks away now, guiltily
avoiding your medicated breath,
leaving a smear on your upper lip,
as if it skidded in last minute haste.

You see, cancer smells a certain way.
It's not quite like death, but more
like withering. IV be damned.
You'll shrivel, dry, disappear
into unknown at any moment,
quite possibly in front of me
as I hold too tightly
onto your crumbling hand.

You see, I am afraid.