Welcome to The Kitchen Sink!

•December 26, 2014 • Leave a Comment
There's always something worth smiling about!

There’s always something worth smiling about!

Hi there. This blog is devoted to all manner of creative writing and is (ideally) updated several times each month.

I invite each of you to provide investigations and analyses; poetry and prose; reviews of film, literature, and music. Submit your own dramatic writing, introspective writing, unique and original writing. Submit your own thoughts regarding your politics and passions, hobbies and recommendations.

I invite your comments or criticism; your suggestions and feedback, at any time. Simply e-mail me or insert your desired copy as a comment, with a small note to say so. Please include your own ‘byline’ information, copyright information and/or author’s note so you can be credited for your own work.

More voices mean more variety. Let’s fill this Kitchen Sink with all the beauty and originality it can handle.

Chris Hibbard

You’re Never Alone

•April 13, 2015 • 2 Comments

A poem
by Chris Hibbard
For Mary Jane
April 13, 2015

You're Never Alone

There are times when you’ll be feeling down
lost and angry
sad and frightened
strangled by life and all of its worries
but I want you to know
that you’re never alone

There are times when you’ll be on your knees
tears on cheeks
and hands in prayer
haunted by life and all of its memories
but I want you to know
that you’re never alone

There are times when you’ll be feeling weak
broken and bothered
bewildered and blue
pained by life and all of its challenges
but I want you to know
that you’re never alone

Time and Time Again

•April 4, 2015 • Leave a Comment

A poem by Chris Hibbard
April 5, 2015

Time And Time Again

I see you in the stars at night
I hear your voice upon the wind
I think about you all the time
Time and time again

I see you in the sun and shade
I hear your voice move leaves on trees
I think about you every day
Day and day again

Hooligans Pt. VIII

•April 3, 2015 • Leave a Comment

A children’s poem
by Chris Hibbard
April 3, 2015

Hooligans Vol. VIII

Two young Hooligans went for a walk
not knowing where they were goin’
For no adventure is too big or too long
for Hooligans Norah and Rowan

They set off West for the mountains and hills
prepared for ice and snow
but when they got there the snow was melting
and the ice had started to go

There were fir trees and spruce trees
alder, birch, and pine
The woods were full of birds all chirpin’
their birdsongs sounded so fine

The Hooligan siblings hiked up a trail
hoping to find a bear
but instead they found an old wooden cabin
waiting for them there

Continue reading ‘Hooligans Pt. VIII’

Look Closer

•April 2, 2015 • 1 Comment

A poem by Phyllis McCormack
Written in 1966

Look Closer

What do you see, people, what do you see?
What are you thinking, when you look at me

A crabby old woman, not very wise.
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes,

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice “I do wish you’d try!

Who seems not to notice the things that you do.
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe.

Who, unresisting or not; lets you do as you will.
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.

Is that what you’re thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you’re not looking at me.

Continue reading ‘Look Closer’

Drink You Away

•March 25, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Chris Hibbard:

A poem
Originally posted at:


Originally posted on theaaronin:

I tried to mend my broken heart

At the bottom of a bottle

Drank until I felt nothing

But the pain was still there

I tried to mend myself

In a fifth of whiskey

Finished the whole thing

But I still felt the hurt

I keep trying to drink you away

But I haven’t found a cure

Every bottle on the shelf

And nothing stops the heartbreak so pure.

I tried to make you disappear

With a shot of everclear

I tried to fade you to black

In a bottle of jack

I tried to drown you out

With a great Irish stout

I just cannot get you to sink

Despite how much I drink

I keep trying to drink you away

But I haven’t found a cure

Every bottle on the shelf

And nothing stops the heartbreak so pure.


View original

The Thief

•March 21, 2015 • Leave a Comment

A poem by Poetic Knight
New Orleans
posted March 21, 2015


The thief stole through the house under cover of darkness
As if propelled by some singular purpose
Determined look in his eye, his purpose bound
Searching with his senses as some hunting hound
The master, awakened from fitful sleep
Of dreams of riches to fill his greed
A man of glutton and unsurpassable wealth
He made his way down the stairs by stealth
Thief! Thief! His possessions cried out in fear
As the master, with shaking limbs came near
A sword in hand, malice in his heart
Searching for all his bulging eyes could report
When all at once from behind he is surprised
Subdued somehow right before his pleading eyes
‘Name any treasure thy heart desires,
for my life, I ransom all before Hell’s fires.
Take for thyself whatever fancies thee,
if that you would spare my life, and a coin or three.’

And the thief, long did gaze steadfast
Until an eternity it seemed had passed
Low and measured breath he did intake
And upon his knee, his sword did he break
With reproachful voice to heighten his brooding features
He began to address the weak and weary creature
‘You name not that which should be treasured above,
all things of earthly sum, that which others call love.
She rests in peaceful sleep though your thoughts do not turn
to her in fear of life, nay, for only gold does your heart burn.
Fear not, thy master of mortal riches, I shall let you live.
For she is something I could not take, nor could you give.’

Pure Blue Eyes

•March 21, 2015 • 4 Comments

A poem
by C.E. Hibbard
for Mary Jane
March 21, 2015

Pure Blue Eyes

I sit here and I write these lines
hypnotized by pure blue eyes
memories of nights gone by
and all the good times yet to come

I sit here and I dream of her
a face so sweet
a love so sure
miles of hills yet to climb
but never any doubts

I sit here and I want to sing
to shout it out
to dance about
to yell it from the rooftops
and etch it into stone

I sit here and my body aches
warmth and heat in funny places
muscles taut and mind relaxed
all her funny faces

I sit here and I realize
that these words come easily
pouring out
tender and true
love that can not be denied

I sit here and I contemplate
Concentrate on words like fate
Dreams of future time and place
Her always by my side


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