Kara McKenzie grew up in an island town in Michigan where she enjoyed reading, writing and time on the lakes. She graduated with an Early Childhood Associate’s Degree and a degree in Education, grades K-9.
Kara began writing novels in the mid 1980’s. She's written poems which have been published in the Candlelight Poetry Journal, when it was still in publication in the 90's. She published a poem in Western MI University's, Reading Horizon Journal, in 1996 that she shared as part of a presentation for a reading class. She's published nine of her women's fiction novels and two children's fantasy fiction stories. She is retired from teaching after 29 years and still enjoys writing.
Poetry written by Kara
Come Sit By MY Hearth
In a bought world where they're screaming for more, they push old aside, and they fatten the store.
Where greed and impatience are happily wed, the children are wooden, and creativities fled.
Inventiveness loses its path to their heart, and spun off like a top are their minds and their art.
Oh, stop for a muffin, or a cup of hot tea, and take time to chat 'bout the things we can't see.
Come sit by my hearth, and I'll weave us a tale and we may find our…things …will suddenly pale.
Silvery Crystal Stars
Is a snowflake made by chance, a random casual act; those perfect, twinkling diamond points, is this written as a fact?
Each cut is to perfection; Each masterpiece divine; a silvery, glinting work of art no man could make so fine.
The winter storms they bring them in through strong, tempestuous blasts, while these fragile workmanships of lace remain the way they're cast.
I must say that they amaze me, these silvery crystal stars. I cannot think they're made by chance so perfect as they are.
When Death Comes my Way
When icy frost lies cold upon the earth, and ashes scatter 'round to mix with dust, and words of solemn bent drive out all mirth, and hinges close with creaks of newly rust. From up above, I gaze upon the tomb. It permeates the life that fills the room, and cries for spirit that has left the bone. I say, be glad, and do not shed a tear. Death's door gives life to those who believe each day, and live and trust in God upon the year, so let's be glad, the day death comes my way!
Beneath the Glow
A candle flicker's o're the newborn's face. Alive it is, the day our Savior's birth! And hearts, they capture Mary's firm embrace, and wonder at the wiseman's heartfelt mirth;
With merry laughter gracing mule's stalls; and whispers tossing hope upon the air; while baby sleeps in peace between the walls, and drummer boy, he drums to do his share.
And Joseph stares in awe beneath the glow down on his knees upon a bed of hay. He watches God's great gift to friend and foe, and prays a prayer of thanks for Christmas day.
WITHIN OUR GRASP
Come sit with me and see, the wonders that never cease. Just listen, my child, and feel it; the presence of God's peace.
It comes in lightness glowing. It comes across the sea. We hear it in the meadows, in the wind and in the trees.
It touches us. It sings. It holds us in its heart. It resonates within our soul, and will not let us part.
A peace within our grasp, which has stood the time of test, free for our own taking gentle waves of bliss-filled rest.