It’s Poetry Month

Hey y’all! In celebration of Poetry Month, I thought I’d share a few of my previously published poems. I hope you enjoy them. And constructive criticism is always welcome here at Tea Cakes and Whiskey. So please feel free to comment or ask questions. I have been busy getting ready for hip replacement surgery, but I’d love to get your input.

I wrote this first poem about my grandfather. He was a farmer in southeast Alabama. He was also one of the best story-tellers I’ve ever known. I miss sitting on the porch with him as he spun yarns about farming during The Great Depression.

Henry County, Ala. @ 1931

My grandfather spent his life

breathing the dust of Alabama farmland.

He walked and walked behind

plows and cows and sows,

down rows carved from red clay

until his shoes were worn

thin as the last dime

in his twice-mended pocket.

In the shade of pines,

he ate his mid-day meal

from tin pails scrubbed clean

of their syrupy sweetness

(cold biscuits and meat

meant to tide a man over).

Returned to

rows and rows and rows

of cotton and corn —

never losing heart, nor sight of row’s end.

Between years of handsome harvest,

he cursed both drought and flood.

Stood among crops

crackled and crisp

or ravished by rivers of mud.

In the end,

blood begat bounty,

and he died blessed –

without regret or shame.

Of his industry,

no rows remain —

only crop upon crop

of weeds and wiregrass

unkempt and untamed.

Copyright © 2006 by Kat Kennedy.  All rights reserved.

Honorable Mention, 2011 Mississippi Poetry Society Literary Competition

First published in The Magnolia Quarterly, Fall 2012


Things Left Undone

I never finish anything.

All around me lie

bits and pieces,

bits and pieces.

this and that.

Life seems splintered –


drawn and quartered –


Even you, little one,

creation mine,

will fall by the wayside.

Simile and metaphor

amble astray.

Adjectives dangle

from thin-wired construction –

to and fro.

Kat Kennedy

copyright 2006 © Kat Kennedy

first published in The Sampler Fall 2006

by Alabama State Poetry Society

This poem speaks for itself, but I will share that when I walked up to this homeless person, I thought she was a man. She left an impression, so I wrote this when I got back to the hotel. I still wonder what happened to her.

51st & 8th New York City

I had this loaf of French bread.

I don’t know why I turned.

I was stolling down

51st Street –

hotel straight ahead.

I caught you from

the corner of my eye,

all dread-locks and dirty clothes.

You had a cough,

a dog,

an empty bowl,

a sign –

A Little Goes a Long Way

I bent to pet your dog,

but I looked at you,

high cheek bones –

deep green eyes.

Your beauty took me

by surprise.

“Here, take this loaf of bread.”

You smiled –

stunned and silent.

It was okay.

A little went a long way.

Copyright © 2012 by Kat Kennedy.  All rights reserved.

1st published in The Magnolia Quarterly, Summer 2012

I hope you enjoyed these poems. I am working on a chapbook that I will be available this Fall. And as always, thanks for having a bite of Tea Cakes and Whiskey.

Please, drop a comment below and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you!