Posts Tagged ‘oil painting’

Some New Haiku….

July 1, 2018


(Summer Dusk, oil, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2010)

I struggle with this form, and this weekend just decided to write something from direct observation.  Little thought behind this, more eyes than anything else.  I know I violate much in proper haiku form but that will come with study.  It’s summer and haiku seems the perfect literary form to use.

Lady Nyo


Summer storms threaten

Gun metal skies become pitch

Birds shelter in place


The air sullen, heavy

I sense the rain being born

Grass rises to drink


Two hawks look over

Penned chickens awaiting Fate

Dogs too hot to chase


Dark skies are heavy

My bones answer with dull pain

The sins of aging


Black storms gather

A blessing of rain to come

Thunder rattles glass


A murder of crows

Watch a cat passing beneath

Suddenly alarmed.


Autumn evening

The wind whips up fallen leaves

Scattering the quilts


Ho! The ice cream truck!

Children swarm, a plague of locust

A child without cash


Summer night brightens

Stars whisper to each other

More than grains of sand.


The soil our bed

Our classrooms and our graves.

reborn to the world.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“I Wonder….”, poem from “Pitcher of Moon”.

May 18, 2013
"Early Autumn Dusk", oil, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2003

“Early Autumn Dusk”, oil, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2003

The devestation of 50 tornadoes out in the Midwest, and the incredible destruction of Moore, Ok, makes poetry almost…well, there are events more important that should take our attention right now. Apparently, news is saying these storms will continue to devestate the same general area, moving eastward. My thoughts and prayers are with the people facing the destruction of their property and of lost of life. I am numb right now. The scope of this disaster is incomprehensible to me.

Lady Nyo

I Wonder…..

I wonder about myself,
The mourning, the sorrow,
A low flame inside
Flaring with memory
Burrowing deep,
Always a shadow of flame
Intruding upon my day
Throwing me back
Into a murky past
Where I am rattled by its force
Its grip–
An unwelcome visitation.

I cover the sadness
With a silk blouse,
A mask for a face,
An unsteady smile.
Order for the outside
Hiding chaos within.

My father’s death had me
Travel from hatred to love
Finally understanding this old man
Who could not say “I love you”,
But did.

When he was close to death
I washed his body
Bathed this feeble old man,
Emptied of power, rage
Returned to innocence
Now forgivably human.

When my mother is dead, finally dead
Will I travel this same path
From hatred to love?
Will I rewrite history
Me to forget anger,
Her with an ember of love,
To end the remorse
To make more of a ‘mother’
To bury her with love?

I started out from love
But it grew to hate.
Life can do these things,
And when I aged
It started to reverse
Half way back.

But it never really makes the full circle
For the wounds are deep
And memories hurt like hell.
Perhaps only time will tell
In this fugue of life.
Perhaps it will come to be
A dull blanket of forgetfulness
Thrown over the past
That segues to forgiveness –
….in time.


There is a marvelous blog at that I have been reading for a few years. The woman who writes there is incredible in her understanding of narcissism, maternal and general narcissism. I recommend this website highly. CZBZ has an extraordinary grasp of these psychological issues that plague so many families.

“Pitcher of Moon” will be published soon at I want to thank Bill Penrose for his work and digilance in formatting and bringing this manuscript to publishing, Nick Nicholson for his reading and advice and Bren Goode for her advice and friendship. These three people are the best friends a writer could have. I am deeply grateful for all of them.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2013

%d bloggers like this: