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Kathy Lockhart

107 years old from

The latest comments that Kathy Lockhart has written.


Thank you Ken. I've been here since April 2006. I've known you since then. I imagine you were here before me. This is a home place for me. Lots of people I've met along the way. Some have gone. Many have gone. I'll always have fond memories of my Lastromantichero. You know who I am referring to. I am glad you are still here Ken and still writing and posting. I really enjoy your historical posts the most. I look forward to reading more of them. Hugs, Kathy

His Wrath

Exactly what Lawrence Beck wrote! This blows me away!

f*ck me

Pain is so very powerful. You expressed is as such! Well Done.

We Two Sat

Some things like that just hurt. Poetry lets us say it so others can know how it feels. I feel it. You wrote it just write (right).

Manhattan, New York

Sometimes poetry hurts and delights at the same time, bringing pictures and feelings of all sorts and kinds, like a projected slide show of heart and mind. This did that for me, Ashe. Brava Poet! Brava!

Not Floating but Exploding

Bibek you have created such powerful images and there they are all inside of me pounding against the walls of my chest while they flash explosions of intense emotions through my mind, my body.
Poetry rides the roller coaster and, with your "pen," you've taken me on a powerful ride!

Soul Survivor

You are a Soul Survivor! The Best! I miss you and I am so glad you are writing again. Please come back write again. I need to read you, see you, talk to you. My Cyndimac-a-roni-and cheese. Oh how much fun we had. God put us together for a reason. Let's connect again. Sweet Soul Sister of mine.

being won by a new experience

Well now, OTP, what a thrilling and most satisfying day to sail. Oh, that's right, I was just reading your poetry. Wow,Transcendence!!

True love, is forever.

A sweetly, sad, and tender love poem. Well done.

Last Breath

This is a sweet and loving poem for your darling Sasha. How her spirit will always live on because of your love. In your poem, you brought her alive. I could "see" her, and "feel" her energy. She was very blessed to have you as her friend and you, her. Dogs are delightful gifts to us human beings. Indeed.


Simply Sweet and full of peace.

Blessed Space

How lovely!

Six in the Morning

Dear Poet, thank you for such beauty. This is most lovely in the language that I am so inept to write a worthy comment. My words fail me.


Thank you for this ride along. It was most enjoyable.

Playing Language

Your music makes me want to dance any way I can! I love it!

Weathering Change

Imagery is alive and breathing!

Faces In The Mountain

This is so very beautiful. I love nature and I see that you have been inspired!

trying to open........

Such is the pain of a one-way love. Well done poet.

one wing in the flames

Sing this song. It is yours!! Brava!!

Perfectly Imperfect

The imagery and the pulse of your poetry throbs with life.

A bitter truth

You are special in your own way. You can create. You can emote. You cause others to feel. You are an artist. Take your pain and make it serve you well. Write it like you are now. Practice your art. It is your gift to self and to others.

my wishes are my last

Keep writing. Expression is life!

best to be the viper

Such power in your words. I am reading you.

'not me, not yet, not quite.'

There is such descriptive language in this that awakens the senses while, at the same time, there is a thread of contradiction sewn in the fabric of all the beauty which weaves a tapestry seen fully. I mean, both sides. That underside with all the loose ends left dangling, uncut, and raw: the unseen moon, the quiet pond, the unknown satellite, the digital approximate clock, the "offs," I guess.
Just lovin' it. Enjoyed fully.

F I C K L E :

This just catches me and makes me smile!

I Never Saw it Coming

sorry your words. But You are words.

I Never Saw it Coming

I call it the Kingdom of the Cheese. You're words never stop though. Keep writing. It matters so much!

Potato Eaters

Somehow there is hope in all of this, even in the dying flowers. For even the lonely must have hope as the flowers still hold their petals.

Earthquake by Ann Wood

It must have been horrifying! I cannot imagine the chaos and fear for all those involved. Your story helped give me a glimpse into what must have been a living nightmare for all involved.

Bitter Facts

The harshness of it all is in its own doing. So many times we can't see the effects until it all over. Stupidity is stupid. Stupefying.

Melancholy Eggs for Breakfast

This as smooth in flow as both edibles and as satisfying a meal to break fast and enter into the delight of a must needed retreat.
I so enjoyed this Bibek.

Tales From A Riverboat

How wonderfully descriptive! Ashe, thank you for taking me to this amazing place and showing me through your painted words such beauty of this experience. Somehow, I heard music as well.


I'm glad to find Huck here. He's the sort who'll make a fine man, with the rough experience, much like a young start-up cowboy (west of the Mississippi). Tom might have all the trimmins, but Huck, he's got grit. And, grits come to think of it. :)

The Night the Ship Sank

The image is so powerful-- personal, painful, cold betrayal in black icy seas of the lost.
But that's not saying it right either. I just know the rejection and then the rejection again.
I read this over and over and over.
Most excellent!

Does anybody here feel my pain?

Oh yes, what you write, I feel it.

Sometimes Finds Me Feeling

these are profoundly marvelous!


I do enjoy your story poems Ken. Your Great Uncle David was a wise man; wasn't he? I am so glad he used his brain instead of his brawn! He probably saved many lives that night, including his own.

Beauty sings in ordinary things

aaaah...just lovely. purely lovely...

At ease with self

I don't know what all the details of sailing mean, but it all sounds wonderful. The flow, the thoughts, the life of the poem bring me to a beautiful peace.


Amen, Brother!

everything is small

This is most settling, so soft and quiet. The chaos, the monster, the fear--in other words--is put away and what is real and what matters in real life becomes clear. What you have written is exactly what I have been doing, only without a SO. No Mark or Marketa. OTP your voice is like music to me, playing softly, soothing my spirit and singing my song. Thank you.

Thought Poem

This is very true and very clever. I like this challenge.

I do appreciate my 10 year old car. It has been good to me with very little repairs needed, except for gas and tires and brakes during this time period.

Thought Poem, hmmm. I'm thinking...

Window Watching

Hello Helen. It is so good to read you again here on Poetbay. I have your book you sent me way back in '08, "Bits of Life." It has been my please for all these years to have this treasure in my home. Much appreciation and regards for you my friend.

Lovely, purrfectly lovely. :) Kathy


this is a very beautiful truth.

Lonely, Tired, Happy and Worried

I LoVe iT !!

Carabao and Heron

HaHa! I had to look up pictures of a carabao because I didn't know what it was. I actually found many images of them with herons. They must be close pals. :)
I not only enjoyed your poetry, got a chuckle, I learned the name for water buffalo in your part of the world. Poetbay is awesome!

The Old Man by Ann Wood

It takes a very special person to work with the elderly who are sick and suffering with dementia. Thank you for being such a caring person. It is good that you can write about your experiences. Your poem is so very touching written with a sincere and caring heart.

Beautiful day by Ann Wood

You paint such a sweet and serene picture of happiness and love. This was so very pleasant to read. :)

Dark rainy night by Ann Wood

A sweetly sad and soft expression of loss and hope.

City Starling

Dave, this is very moving. This almost brought me to tears. In contemplation, I see not only the adaption forced on the starling but what have we, the creators of all the chaos of our times, have changed about ourselves because how we are now forced or choosing to live. The sores of the bird, the greyness of the feathers, I see as metaphors of our own illnesses of mind and body. Those poor offspring so frail forced to live life as something less is so vivid in my mind as the representation of what we are leaving our own children.
Your ability to write such power metaphorical poetry is a gift and so is your "incidental art." It is good to have them matched together. :)