Kate K

My Middle Name



Lover of all things that love me back,

Who feels that everyone matters, no matter who they are,

Who pours her all into everything she does,

Who fears falling short after trying so hard,

Who lives inside the shell of restricting herself, but keeps peeling back the layers,




Is boredom.

Nothing interesting is going on.

It hides in a crowd;

It’s too shy to come out.

It forces out a yawn

Upon glance.

It’s the fake wood

That lets you know

That the purchaser is cheap.

It’s the color that makes you grimace

Without even trying.

Why is there tan, the one color that symbolizes infinite dullness, in our world?

Because like Red, White, and Blue’s freedom,

Pink’s love,

And Purple’s trust,

Tan provokes emotions of pure boredom,

And without emotions,

There is no real “us”.

If Only We Would Win the Lottery


Mommy always told us that if we won the lottery, we’d build a house in Hilton Head that would look similar to the house that we always rent on Black Skimmer.  It would have a gigantic pool, fit with lights and a jacuzzi for nighttime swimming.  It would be decorated with nautical colors and objects, like blue anchors, red crabs, and white waves roaring across the pillowcases.  I’d share a bedroom with my sisters, and our room would have a loft, a bench with a perfect view of the wonderful paradise, and comfortable bunk beds for sleeping.  Each TV would be HD and we’d have a double shower head in each bathroom.  Sitting in the furniture would be like plopping into a cloud, and our kitchen would have a breakfast bar for the big family brunches we eat on vacation.  We’d have a screened-in porch for coffee talk in the morning with a perfect view of the beautiful beach with rolling waves and fluffy white sand blanketing the location, which would be only a walking distance away.   

But all of these extravagant luxuries seem like small, easy-to-forget details when I realized that my best friend and puppy, Randall, could come and stay with us.  He would sleep in the same room as me so that I could hold him tight through the nightmares that he might have.  He could run in the ocean with us as we play fetch, take relaxing morning beach walks with us, and battle in Pool Wars IIII on the Kids team, also known as the “Good Guys.” But every time I think of the perfect world, I am let down, for the chance of us winning millions of dollars is a one in a million chance.




Almost – I almost had it.  The opposing striker touched through Morgan and Ashley, my fellow defenders.  I was the last one standing.  I sprinted from the penalty kick spot to the top-right corner of the goal box to try and prevent her from shooting, but there was no hope, for she shot the ball once she finished off Ashley.  Luckily for us, the goalie, Caroline, sprung off of the ground and into the air to make an amazing diving save.  The ball deflected off of her gloves and right to the skilled striker who passed the ball towards the far corner of the net.  All four of us used every ounce of our energy to stop it, but Morgan and Ashley both arrived too late.  I, too, fell short from reaching it in time, but I used my rather short leg span to try and drag the ball towards me and kick it out of the defensive third of the field.  I reached, stepped, and immediately fell over because of a lack of balance.  I couldn’t get up.  I couldn’t stop the ball.  All I could do was helplessly watch the ball trickle into the goal while I blurted at the top of my lungs, “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” out of pure anger.  It wouldn’t – no, it couldn’t, end this way.

Almost – I was almost in tears.  I stood in the left back position while a fire of rage was burning inside of my aching soul.  I knew that somehow, I’d redeem myself, for I needed to show the away team, my team, and, most importantly, myself, that I am stronger than a wimp who drowns her soul in negativity after a small mistake.  Not long after the kickoff, we lost the ball to the enemy’s left wing.  The bratty weakling smugly dribbled up the sideline when she saw a mini-beast run through her, steal the ball, and assist Grace, the Century striker, in a goal.  

She glared evilly at the girl who she thought was weak and beaten up, but who just showed her and her entire team that she may look as if she’s a sleeping puppy cuddling in your lap, but inside, she’s a tiger just waiting to pounce.  She despised that left back, but she couldn’t beat her.  No, she couldn’t beat me.

My Cello Song


Pushed around all day long,


I see the golden-brown wooden masterpiece,

A deep breath falls out of my mouth.

I hug the instrument close to my side,

A small smile appears.

I rosin the long, magical bow,

My overactive mind calmly slows.

I place the bow on the string and express myself,

I am finally free.

Randall, Randall, Randall

All we wanted was a dog:

Randall, Randall, Randall.

A Yellow Lab?  A Saint Bernard?

Randall, Randall, Randall.


Basketball season rolls around:

Randall, Randall, Randall.

Watching the Pitt game; cheering for the win:

Randall, Randall, Randall.

On comes a lefty wearing leggings under his shorts:

Randall, Randall, Randall.

My sister Leah loves his style.  “What’s his name?”  Dad’s reply?

Randall, Randall, Randall.


Suddenly, our future dog has a name:

Randall, Randall, Randall.

And on September 8, 2015, the world said hello to

Randall, Randall, Randall.

Fearless Ladybug


I woke up from my beauty sleep

And stared in the mirror-


I gently guided my red robe out of my huge Tootsie Roll closet

And applied my fearless black-dot makeup.

As I nibbled on my refreshing, clean breakfast of mint,

I wondered

What fame would come today?


When floating through the aroma of wet grass,

I noticed a dull-colored monster terrorizing helpless little ants

with its two gigantic mallets of feet.

Springing into action,

I flew faster than my little wings could carry me

And like a kamikaze pilot,

Bombed myself onto the monster.


Too amazed by my landing,

They left the ants alone.

I’m glad another abused bug

Could be graced with my

good luck charm.

My Reflection


Can’t you see

Who you really are?

You’re not the person they want you to be,

But you’re flawless

In your own way.


You’re kind

And you care

About everyone’s and everything’s emotions.

You’re smart

And share knowledge to those who are curious

About the world’s most special theories and facts.

You’re determined

Which makes you an athlete

Who will cry and fall over when you keep failing

And when you succeed.


So if you can’t dance along,

Make up your own routine.

If you can’t sing along,

Create a catchy beat to compliment the lyrics.

And reflection,

My uniquely perfect reflection,

If you can’t laugh along,

Laugh at them for being weird




I Wish


I wish I were stronger

So that I could help redo the back porch railing

By holding up wood

That as of now, I just cannot lift.


I wish I were faster

So that I could sprint down the field

When I’m beat by a player

And stop them in their tracks.


I wish I had more common sense

So I wouldn’t blurt evil words that I’d regret

For the rest of my life

And not be able to take them back.


I wish I were smarter

So I wouldn’t make mistakes

On tests and in games

That no matter what, are not beyond my possibility to win.


I wish I were funnier

So that I’d have more friends

Who would spend the rest of their lives

Laughing with me.


I wish I were friendlier

So that I could help the people

Who are ignored all day

By those who think that they are superior.


But no matter how many push-ups I force out of my arms,

How many sprints I repeat,

How many times I think before I speak,

How many times I read non-fiction textbooks,

How many cruel jokes I repeat,

And how many people I help to feel better,

I’ll never be perfect;

I’ll always want more from myself,

Because there is no perfect;

There are no limits.



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