September Poet of the Month Deborah Tosun Kilday
Editor’s Note:
We are so pleased to feature our Debbie in the September 2025 issue of BeatLife. Debbie among other accomplishments is a total inspiration to us all. Below you will find her biography and a selection of her poetry especially note her poem dedicated to Ginsberg and Kerouac.
Biography:
Deborah (Debbie) Tosun Kilday, is the founder, owner, CEO of the National Beat Poetry Foundation, Inc. (started in 2014, registered in the State of Connecticut in 2016). She is also the creator of the Beat Poet Laureate Award Program, (started in 2015), to acknowledge word artists that do not necessarily come from mainstream poetry groups or follow any set style or form of writing. Instead, they write about subjects that are meaningful to them as individuals without being judged, or repressed, as were the original Beat Generation of writers.
She holds two yearly in person festivals: National & International Beat Poetry Festival and the Goddess Festival along with occasional special Zoom interviews and events.
She is also founder and owner of New Generation Beat Publications (2022), BeatLife Magazine (2024), and Kilday Krafts (1981). She is a new generation Beat Poet, award winning author, writer, nature photographer, artist, and cancer survivor since 1997. She creates opportunities and holds events for other poetry enthusiasts, to come and share their voices and participate in a safe, nurturing environment. In 2024 she was named a Connecticut Arts Hero by the State of Connecticut Office of the Arts. In 2023 Debbie received a Lifetime Literary Achievement Award from the Poets Network & Exchange, NY. In 2023 during her annual Nat’l & Int’l Beat Poetry Festival, Deborah was recognized by beat poets laureate worldwide for devoting her life to uplifting and inspiring others, through Beat Poetry, birthing a new generation of Beat Poets. Debbie was a member (2005-2022), Special Events Director and Past President (2014-2016) of The Connecticut Authors and Publishers Association, (CAPA).
Author of several books, “Amidst The Darkness” – a collection of her poetry “Farmington River Reflections – My Photographic Journey & Meditations”- A coffee table book of poetry paired with her photography, “Wooden Branches: Leaf Tree Friends”, Photographs of trees at different seasons “Tantric Love Suicide”, a poetry and photo collection”, “No Limits: How I Beat The Slots”, based on her true story of how she learned to read the algorithms of slot machines, becoming a VIP high roller, causing her to win millions of dollars and giving it all away to people with terminal cancer and helping them and their families. Her short stories and poetry are published in magazines and several anthology books. She has appeared on TV several times.
Debbie is a Connecticut native and resides in Wolcott, CT with her husband Michael in an old farmhouse her grandfather built, where she grew up on the 66-acre family dairy farm, “Willow Brook Dairy”. The house is the only remaining thing of what was once the farm.
Backstory:
Kerouac first infiltrated my soul, Back in 1969 when I first read “On The Road”. I was only 15 years old but I had already been through a lot for that age. Growing up on a rural dairy farm, my parents divorcing when I was 12 years old, my mother moving my sister and myself from city to city, to different schools in different states. I already felt like an unwilling traveler. My mother had at least settled into one city by the time I was 14 so I was able to go to one high school and later graduate from there. Jack had just died in 1969 and the world was mourning and talking about him. My desire to escape my life at that time, made me restless and wanting freedom from my everyday existence.
I was naive yet worldly for 15. I was a high school student, an artist, painting and working with clay. I was also a photographer and photographed people and places I would visit when traveling and singing in a band. I think I took photos to prove to myself that I too was a traveler and from what I know now, I truly was. Little did I know at the time that I would later meet Kerouac’s best friend, Allen Ginsberg. I guess you would say it was my destiny.
Dream Warrior
For Ginsberg & Kerouac
I’m a dream warrior
With sympathetic tendencies
Empathetic yet …
Just like Kerouac
Searching for meaning
For a more authentic way of life
Take care of my genuine heart
It’s like a delicate flower
That blooms when nurtured
Love it daily to keep it thriving
I’ll give you my all
Without reservations
At times I might escape to realms
With natural environments
Hidden from spying eyes
I sometimes think of Ginsberg
It was so long ago
We practiced Tai Chi together
A moving meditation
He liked that I wasn’t a big talker
That he could just be himself
Relaxing, practicing in silence
But at the same time
If he wanted company
I offered conversation
A friend
His words and advice
I’ll always respect and cherish
He was wise to the world and its sorrows
I think of the complexities of life
And its meanings
I’m not a stranger to sorrows
Instead I move forward
Always evolving
Beyond Beat
Open to change
But grounded in the idea
That life is for living
Creating peace & joy
Finding happiness and love
Backstory:
I sometimes write about my feelings about things, and this is one of those poems.
Ordinary Woman
I’m just an ordinary woman
Nothing extraordinary
Just plain ordinary
I did what was necessary to survive
My poor beginnings
Were only poor for lack of the dollar
Instead
I was gifted with natural surroundings
That nature provided
Things like clean water, clean air
Breathing peaceful surroundings
Enough food to satisfy
Making me appreciate
The thing that sets me apart
I’m just an ordinary woman
Working hard to create
Something extraordinary
I never give up
I keep on creating
A better version of myself
I’m not legendary
Not living extraordinary
I’m just here
Living life
My beat beginnings
Have only forced me
To redefine the word Beat
Which to me means to keep evolving
Backstory:
My own feelings about how artists hide their feelings and how they struggle to survive with little recognition or pay while at the same time they create beautiful things for others to enjoy.
Tragic Artist
Yes, a tragic artist
That’s me
Molding the clay
Tearing pieces away
Painting on canvas
Messing with brushes
Ruining creations
On a daily basis
Drinking to excess
Of course showing distress
Yes, a tragic artist
That’s me
Taking breathtaking photos
Of everything lively
While deep inside
Contemplating suicide
Ready to jump
What’s the use trying
Down in a slump
Yes, a tragic artist
That’s me
Creating beauty for everyone’s eyes
But no one else sees
The tragic artist that is me
Backstory:
This is the true story about when I received a full paid scholarship to attend the Art Institute of Boston after graduating high school, my mom was in a terrible car accident two weeks before I was to leave for college, and me cancelling my college plans to work in factories to support the two of us and what happened about a year after my mom’s accident.
A Year Had Gone By
A year had gone by
How time it does fly
Since that terrible car accident
Leaving Mom with head injuries
Unable to work
Leaving me to delay my plans
Of becoming a famous living artist
Painting & Sculpting in Boston, MA
I was only 18 years old
Still believing in dreams
Waiting for my future
Coming home after working
12 hours straight
The house was blaring with noise
Mom? Why is the tv up so loud?
Why is it so hot in here?
It must be 90 degrees
There was no answer
Only noise & heat
In the kitchen
The gas stove
All burners lit
Flames rising up
No pots, just flames
The kitchen sink had a steady stream
Of water pouring down the drain
The washing machine
Water churning without clothing
The sound of the vacuum running
Sitting still on the floor
At that moment my Mom
Rushing towards me
Looking wild eyed & very distraught
Dragging a big black garbage bag
Across the floor
Yelling
Go throw this bag away
And we will all be saved!
Opening the bag
I looked at the contents
Inside all of my belongings
I thought to myself
Did my whole life
Really fit into one garbage bag?
Could the world be saved
If me and my belongings
Were thrown away?
Would my Mom be okay
If I followed her instructions today?
Hello? Operator…
Could you please send an ambulance right away?
What’s the problem?
Ummmm…….
I think my Mom just lost her mind
Please hurry
© 2025 Deborah Tosun Kilday