If I were a poem
I'd be made of words
That only you'd understand.

I sit at my table and chair. I am content in my solitude. My laptop calls for me. Oh the hustle and bustle of our society requires us to be present at all times. There is no time to dawdle. Even on free days, we check emails and rush to beat the morning traffic while running errands. I look out the window. There is a daisy where leaves usually grow. A new sign of life. Invigorating and riveting for me to observe.

Why should I worry
at the much unexpected?
Unpredictable
The definition of life
only to be forgotten

I understand why
Romanization of death
Exists
The world is so exhausting
That death seems like a
better option

However, I wonder
What made life
So mundane and empty
That we seek to
Escape it?

I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night

Baa baa black sheep
Have you any wool
Enough for each sheep
Owner to call
The people who do knitting and stuff
Everyone wants the sheep to look rough
Moo moo brown cow
Have you any milk
Yes sir yes sir
As pure as silk
You see I want my genetals
To bring a lot of milk
For the supermarket
Meow meow tabby cat
Have you got our cuddle
Very close like a famous huddle
Go meow when a burglar comes scares him away that famous cat
Meow meow tabby cat
Good on you

to read my past journal entries is
to walk on an intimately familiar path,
one in which I know the major landmarks,
the steep mountains, and the deep valleys.

even though I can walk on this path
with my eyes closed and get through,
I don't. I slow down on the way,
noticing flowers I didn't see before.

I pluck a leaf off every flower stem,
and keep it safely between my palms.
the leaves remind me of the flowers
that grew despite the harsh conditions.

whenever I wish for a new beginning,
I blow on a leaf and let it guide me.
I smile, exhale, and walk forward.
behind me, new flowers are blooming.

I’ll write this
Yeah I’m drunk
But I feel good
I think you
But I don’t miss you
I hope your good
As our paths distance
Goodbye

Monsters
They’re scary
Some are in the closet
Some are under the bed
But you want to know a secret
The scariest monsters
Are in our heads

Goodbye Poetry

A wooden palace for the dead
had everyone came in black
flowers, voices, mother earth was awake
To celebrate, regret and retract

The living came to purify their souls
By invigorating adorned cathedrals
And singing songs about loss

Almost as on a causal wedding day
They did not come to celebrate the dead
But to cry about the left behind
Together, to feel more alive

And they were dancing
Around the gone
Voices creating vibration of air
Which sounded peacefully
To the song of despair

Physical burning wing
In motion the big bird
Flies into the woods
Like a flame extinguished;
The year is in rust and waning
The day in dusk and purple
And it's best we head home now
Back along the cow path
Over the glacier's disposed memories
(Still looking backward
My mind goes deeper into
The cold, dark forest)
To the steady fire waiting for us.

Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.

If words were your dress
then I'd be a king,
sinking in your dazzling brilliance
as people came to look
and ponder
over what you just
said

A funny thing about forever..
--it never, ever ends..

and so   neither will we.

The spirit is free from
all of this-- it will  always
remain lit..

only the flesh goes dark  
as we  leave  its earth-laden husk, behind..

But the core-heart of Love's true ache  will always,
always Remain.

Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

the windsongs speak
their tales of change.
lean in close, they tell you, come
listen. to the robin's nest
and the fire's glow and
the baby's breath.
lean close, they whisper, don't
miss them. don't
parry. don't boast. don't
brood in the light of mourning.
they summon, they taunt you. come
kiss them.

and the foxtrot leaves a trail of haste.
is it honest?
is it spiteful? does
the lamb's ear sing its
hymn of sorrow? does
the boy cry wolf in the dead of night?

lean toward fear, they tell you.
you listen.

I am the next wind
which crosses your neck.
The raindrop on your cheek.
When you wake up
tomorrow I will be the
crease on your face, the
tangle of your blanket.

Know this then, I will
never leave you.  The
scent of me lines your
breath.  

So now I lay me down
to sleep. I pray my soul is
yours to keep.

Amen


Caroline Shank

the roads may be long and the mountains are steep, we pay a price for the company we keep.
the lessons we learn lined with sorrow and pain, we wonder if we'll ever be happy again.
you've been gone for awhile the prodigal son,your inheritance spent and your heart weighs a ton.
but the father rejoiced when he noticed his child, his arms opened wide in his forgive my son style.
you see your place in his kingdom was there all along you may have thought he'd be angry, thank God you were wrong.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

“Social media is taking over our lives,”
she tweeted angrily.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

I never told a lie to you
that I love you
I told a lie to myself
that you love me..

Sour candy
Hard candy
Your love is a war head
Puckering my lips
Piercing my tongue
Poaching my words
Rendering me powerless to its palatable punishment
Your love is a war head
And I would devour it daily
Just to taste you again