Heart in the Hand

She stands at 23rd and Grand hailing a taxi for the heart in her hand
Bright yellow cabs passing her way; going somewhere, going away
Graffiti splashed along the rising sky, silent messengers, loud cries
Gridlock holding hands in the streets, eyes locked, whimpering feet
In all of this noise, the beating heart, needing somebody, a new start
Towering clouds and shrouds of disguise, an arched arrow, time flies
Into the heart the quiver soars; a crowd gathers in revolving retail doors
Lunch for Wall Street, the beating heart, gushing in red, poisoned dart
Into the manhole seeping steam, the heart it falls, convulsing in dreams
American tales parked at a dead end, where hearts fail and the living ends
Empty chests in suits of grey, she stands at 23rd and Grand, every Sunday
In the tower, in the Church at the end, a loud bell invites the Dow average in
It seems that no one sees her there, the old woman going absolutely nowhere

Kathy Paysen 2014

NIce poem, its so inspiring

NIce poem, its so inspiring and full of emotion.. keep writting.

Thank You Angelyn Thor!

Dear Angelyn Thor,

What a beautiful name you have.

I appreciate your sweet comment; truly I do.

After a hard-knock-life (day) in a dead end retail job, there is nothing more comforting than my dog, my cat, and the kindness of a complete stranger.

Writing is my pacifier. I plug it in ... when the doubts start to sprout in my head. This is an emotionally packed poem; yes, it is.

It is comments like this ... that turn me around ... and help me realize how important hope is to every moment.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read me and inspire me. You are definitely an angel in my thorn bush.

Sincerely yours,


Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Very moving

Oh, Kathy
That is very moving and sad
A good write to remind us to look round and see people not just hurry away

It's Really Quite Sad, Really

Thank you dear Kate.

Some days invite sad poetry in ... I suppose it happens ... when one finds oneself at their wits end.

Like great music ... waves of such despair ... there is a chorus that yields to all our cares.

One can only hope ... that hope is on its way ... because there will always be another day.

Such tidings hurt ... they hurt for quite awhile ... but once noticed ... here comes that smile.

A funny bone ... a longing ... a riddle of this day ... it happens ... when we wish our cares away.

It's not so much the pain ... but the gains that we displace ... when one dares to wear a human face.

Not the make-up ... and not the chin tuck ... but the outlaw of truth ... like an infected wisdom tooth.

Pull it some say ... and others turn their eyes ... far ... and then further away.

We can only encounter what compassion will learn ... we all dream ... we all yearn.

Yes, and some days are like that ... quite sad ... really.

And so we paint our hearts into poetry ... the silent place ... where peace finds rest and comfort finds its space.


Kathy xo

Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Perhaps this poetry would be a great audition for life on the stage, love's rage. I could imagine that ... a heart splat.

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