Poetry Selections

A selection of poems by Kendra Muecke.

Read more of her poetry here: Kendra’s Poetry Blog.


[Parallel, as if I am Eleven.]

In thy chambers,

I peer amidst constructive meaning,

I care for those lost,

I care for those deceiving.

I walk in dignity,

& this is so.

— “on forth, to the rhythm!” yells the salmon below.

To move, I beckon from the depths of my soul,

as if I needed words in my ear to behold—

To groove right by,

to shift & to mould,

to make everyday sunny—

as if you care what garbage I am told.

& shadows, & shadows, & shadows—

I see,

succulently dousing my spirit in false integrity.

To have found Waldo without even owning the book!!!

Oh, but of course! Quite normal you see—

I found him out back,

sauntering to the beat

of a drummer boy,

who owned nothing to eat.


Proposing a question,

Where do all the manners of answered time go?

I think I left them outback – tied up like a stripper to the north pole.

Put on your

thinking cap,

Dig on in,

Breathe inside,

& Beheld within.

Time to reap what I sow,

& to turn against boulders,

to see if they are real

or just calculated mental patterns.



Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

Get our hearing here!

Join the crowd

Of seldom done reassuring

and life left without billing

The found!

Hear ye, Hear ye!

Her license profound,

To gander the geese,

and honor the crown!

“Beware!” she says,

“The causation is creating a future for you!

A suture of camaraderie

composed of homelands a skew.

There’s a building to scale

and a wall of few,

Who stand bland

and contrite

and full of blocking the truth.”

“Their pants are high

and their ears are low!

They kid about a war

of which your wishing

wishes not to know!”

And in your sight,

You feel the sun.

You feel yourself

laughing out loud for fun.

The whole of your being

is the swing on your feet

that guides the spirit

to hold a soundful greet!

The way of your vibe

is the dig of your bone

founding the relation

and opulence of perpetual tone.

[are you, real you?]



Geometric are the angles

that coordinate the

cheese of said mind.

I prance along closer,

but have forgotten my next line—

It was an uncertainty

within the age of reason.

It was me against myself,

if advancement meant treason.

I was then

and am now,

Picking up the memories

by the hour;

A transition from haze,

something to do

with reclaiming one’s power.

But, with much Ado,

“Your character and substance,”

give us all that we need—

They wanted ego to subside,

but they’re the ones who brought back the 90’s.

I stomp;

I step.

I’m on my own to unravel,

at the end of the day,

I remain the one

who experiences my travel.



The Tale of The Queen & The Sad One

[Choice is grace, love is elegance]

“There is something in the air tonight,”

said The Sad One to The Queen,

“I was walking around outside and–”

She then proceeds to halt talking,

as The Queen lowers her head,

and whispers nonchalantly—

Something I cannot hear,

Since, I am just a distant observer writing.

A secret of the trade

—to share ideas without mocking—

Like a bird,

The Sad One begins to chirp.

She runs excitedly

to her palace balcony

on the Eastside of Brooklyn, New York.

[Where I am, is where I am to be]


About Time

So step, step into the sunshine

of my beauty with you

transcendent prizes of hair

soaked in golden and blue.

Step, step closer,

up onto the stands

microphone in hand

as I lay and listen to your voice,

and wonder at a time like this,

How you are able to speak my name?


The Resonancy

I’m waiting in all

hubs & disregards

in calculated

melodic minors.


I’m raising up

my arms in stakes,


as patience

spins in place.


A tousled murmur

and mimicked tease,

they turn as I,

the questionably healed,

follow through.


For who would fardels bear?

To rehearse & practice,

a lonesome knight

falls in time with moon.


In deservance,

I plead to God,

hands outstretched

in clasped surrender.


My voices peel

layer atop

of shroud,

‘set her up & then play her.’


For who would

wake a love,

to let it go



The pleading returns,

tears at my knees,

I’m prone on the floor,

out of body,

I begin

to get back

to begging:


“Lead me too.

There is where,

I hat my song

& sing-a-long,

the ground of

successful shared peace.


The creation of self,

my fingernails grow,

so I may carve them

on fretted matter.


Make a beautiful day

out of my chiseled nose,

send me to where

there is held space of soul,”

She flatters.


A popped match,

you wink round corridor,

so She waits

as rabid habit on display.


Hops & wobbles,

truthful cobbles

reshape & supersede



A filed patient

signed in at the front boudoir,

wearing a bow of gestured,

“Let it be;

one day,

my prints will dry.”


The Grateful Lovers

[they love each other]

What is this name,

’tis on my lip?

You on barrel,

echo to 5,

You on redemption,

recollection of mine tribe.

Frantic to be,

I set down the clock,

who are you?

I remember that once now I had forgot.

Bless me with paintings

and hear me,

my words,

they come harrowing in

from the sunshine & life left absurd.



Kendra Muecke has published two books.

  1. “The Politics of”, a 340 page book of poetry.
  2. “Project Non-Arch: Operation Clown School”, a long from prose poem.
  3. She is currently comprising her 3rd book of poetry & writing her 1st novel.

Both books are available for purchase here: Buy Kendra’s Books, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.

Read more of her poetry here: Kendra’s Poetry Blog.

All rights reserved. This website or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, Kendra E. Muecke.

All poems, writing, and songs written and owned exclusively

by Kendra Muecke.

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