More
Close

Kathleen Stevens

Kathleen Stevens's picture

Kathleen Stevens

I am a fourth generation poet. I have authored and self-published eight books of poetry and an Art book show-casing my own art work created over the past thirty years. Presently, I am living in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.

Stories by Kathleen Stevens

I yearn to lie down On the soft green grass, And feel the sun’s warmth upon my face, Allowing my mind to find a peaceful rest, And...
The capture of a moment, A song that is sung, Words dancing across the page, Began when I was still young. In my heart of memories There is a...
My Love for You Did the world truly exist- Before we loved? With Mutual delights, Shining splendor, And dreams select; An autumn day you...
I pray you find The peace of heaven While angels dance and sing Your song; I hope you look Upon the blue skies While clouds with Cotton candy...
Swaying to music In perfect beat, Lost in a world Of sweet serenity, Looking graceful Like a willow tree, Being blown gently By the breeze, She...
Raindrops on a midsummer day, A chapel where we go to pray, Tears from angels at our diversions, A generation fully conversant; We each fly our...
A walnut timber bookcase Embraces my beloved book collection Of poetry and the masterpieces; Quentin's wooden models created And painted by...
For only tonight Let me hold you near, Kiss your eyelids, Erase your fears. For only tonight Let me feel your arms Holding me tight Engaged...
She sits alone, Her skeleton Pressed, molded, Wrought by an empty heart. She sings A forlorn song, Purse empty, Neighbors drift afar,...
Evening’s highland performance, Essence of a gentle love, Radiance, Dreams of morning’s warmth Graced upon your face, A spring bare...
Your unwavering stance Occupied a barren region, Lingering there like a withering flower Before you ultimately departed; I suffered beforehand...
One of the best gifts I have ever recieved was when I was eight years old. It was a beautifully illustrated book of poems for children authored...
Angels in the winds High above the waters In a land not forsaken By God’s own gracious hand. I count the glowing windows As I pass them...
With my hand held open - You gave me red roses, red hearts - Words of endearments whispered - Love like clean fallen snow.
It has been almost thirty years since I have attempted to grow a garden. I don’t have a green thumb, but with my younger sister’s death...

Pages