Thursday, December 1, 2016




If I gently took her hand
would she come with me
to an unknown world?
Would she come with me
to a new land where dreams
never come to an end
and where no teardrop
has ever fallen?
Would she fly with me
through the soft darkness
into a silver pool of light
that catches the breath,
skips the heart and
sends a shiver of ecstasy
rippling up the spine?
Would she sail with me
across the green, misty ocean
to an undiscovered island
where the sea breezes
silently fan the trees
with sweet, golden warmth
and the sky is an eternal shade
of heartbreaking blue?
If I gently took her hand
would she come with me
to an unknown world?
Would she come with me
to a place where loneliness
is a forgotten word
and sorrow has not yet
touched the human heart?


The thick, night silence presses on my ears,
while the hissing, whooshing rhythm
in my head measures out a cadence
in sync with my heart, sending buzzing
pulses of bright silvery light blinking
in my eyes, penetrating the ebony darkness
that squeezes in on my head, and brutalizing
the quiet solitude of my lonely evening
with an intense and insistent, repetitive blast
like a cruel and sarcastic neon sign deep
within my skull, flashing the mocking message:
“Alone”… “Alone”… “Alone”…


Why won’t the past fade away?
Let the ancient tears grow cold
and my blood clot and lump,
while my aging flesh turns to dust
and my eyes cloud over
to all that has gone before.
Why won’t the past just die?
Let the sun morph to black
and the stars blink out,
as the spring rain ices to winter
and the gold and silver
dry and rot into brown rust.
Why won’t the past disappear?
Let all the music turn to noise, and
laughter become an ear-splitting screech,
as the melodies whither to howls
and the harmonies of sweet joy
shrivel down into a cry of sorrow.
Why won’t the past fade away?
Why won’t my past just go away
and die… Oh just let it die!


KENNETH NORMAN COOK was raised in Southern California in the 1960s. It was there that he began to fall in love with words, through a sixth grade English assignment to write a poem about Halloween. His entry was selected to be published in the school newsletter and that started him on a lifetime sojourn through the creative world known as poetry. After living away for many years, Kenneth is back in California, where he continues to write daily. He is a regular contributor to several magazines, has been featured in numerous recent poetry anthologies and has released a newly revised edition of his poetry collection, Shadow Walk With Me. He is also the author of a second book, This Side of Nothing, as well as a third; a collection of haiku and senryu poetry, entitled Theater of the Absurd. Here is a writer with over one thousand poems in his writing arsenal. Be prepared for a literary roller-coaster of emotions, imagery and intense imagination, for this is the poetry of Kenneth Norman Cook.


  1. Hello Kenneth I am loving your poetry... YOU ARE SO AWESOME..

    1. Thank you so much, Deborah. I am deeply grateful for all you do. 8-)

  2. One of my favorite Poets is this man right here; A star bursting to become even more a part of the Universe around him and his words will send you to the Moon and back. He's deep, profound, sublime, a shocker with impact in so few words that he can get a meaning or message across what takes others pages to accomplish. His Haiku and Senyru are to be admired and revered as well. His pen is Golden and so his Heart. I don't know what color his Soul is for it's too big and blinding in my eyes to detect a hue !!! I just know it's beautiful and that's all that matters.

  3. Kenneth is one of the best and most outstanding male poets i am lucky enough to be friends with. He is so wonderful his work is so outstanding and i have one of his books which is the best poetry of his i love his work. Keep doing what your doing Kenneth you have a natural wonderful talent.