Poet, Writer, Composer
About Kristen
Meet Kristen Baum DeBeasi, poet, writer, and composer.
Kristen’s work explores the depths, exposing the truths of our humanity, our place within the family, and our search for purpose within societal expectations. A cultural anthropologist of the human heart’s need to belong, she weaves words into magical creatures, and writes songs into which to take refuge.
Kristen often invokes the mythic folk tradition of storytelling through fairy tales. Using refrigerator magnets to retell known fairy tales, she subverts and upends societal expectations. Deftly weaving humor and insight, her work subtly challenges the reader, nudging them toward their own moments of discovery, memory, or reconciliation. To see the first in her Red Riding Hood fridge poems, click here.
Kristen’s poetry sets out to speak to what our souls yearn to express—a desire for belonging, a need for making peace with the past, and celebrating the moments that matter. Many of her poems move toward revelation, excavating a truth, striving to make the uncomfortable more comfortable.
Her stories for the youth market include two full-length manuscripts.
Also an accomplished musician and film composer, Kristen has scored over 35 films.
Additionally, using her formal training in classical music, she composes piano solos, song cycles and art song sets. To explore Kristen’s art songs further, click here.
Watch Kristen's Poem Video "And No One Hears It"
“And No One Hears It” was first published in Voice of Eve
African Violets
There’s a wild woman waiting to hug you,
hold you, quiet your distressed soul.
The patriarchy robbed you of your
wild self. Left a self-loathing, judging
monster in your place.
You spit venom about idle hands,
the devil’s workshop if anyone starts
having too much fun, too much
laughter, silliness, joy.
You pour your compassion
into African Violets that shrink
if you look at them wrong. Did you know
your girls do too? Whither on the vine?
Die for your affection?
You never overwatered either—the violets
or your girls. But under water? Yes. The girls.
I’m thirsty, Mama. Touch me gently
like you touch those violets. Speak softly
to me like I hear you speak to them. Water me—
not too much, not too little. Give me
a place of honor in your house too.
Let me feel the warmth of sunshine
on my face, your loving hand holding me,
pruning away what is dying
so I can thrive too. Let me feel
the love you pour into those violets.
Let me thrive, grow, bloom—the greatest gift.
The beautiful blossoming of a well-tended daughter.
“African Violets” was first published in Blue Heron Review. It was nominated for Best of the Net.