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I heard the owl earlier
probably not the same owl
that I heard years ago
although
if its aged as well as me
it very well might be.

Everything changes with time
sometimes too with a couple of
bottles of local wine
but the trick is to
reinvent oneself on a daily basis
whilst preserving ones identity.

I'm off soon, out exploring,
getting my steps in
not trying to be wafer thin
but shedding a few pounds
would be good,
steak, chips and peas would
be good too
alas
that's not on today's menu.
I want to be his medicine
I want to heal his soul
I want to bring him peace
Like he has never known
I want to bring him chaos, too
I want to bring it all
Give him pain and comfort
With my wild call
He sits on perches
Preening, playing,
Perfect to view
He wants for nothing
So what’s a hen to do?
He does not sing or caw or call
He thinks he’s already said it all
And frankly he could stay silent
And still be worth the time
Quiet bird
He may be free
When his cage is only imaginary
She never ever let us meet him
Never told us his full name
We only learned it when she shared
the photo of a document in jest
Where he adopted our Grand dog
And became her official Dad.

She asked if we would dog-sit Bella
While they took a Vegas break.
I know they are going to get married
And we’ll be left here with the dog.

There will be no celebration-
He’ll wait in the car while she comes in
To drop off Bella and rush back out
Precluding any conversation
Or questions about the trip.

That scene will play it’s second act
When they come to get the dog.
Him in the car and her a rush.

I’ll check her hand - is there a ring -
Not sure she’d ever even wear one.
I’ll have to call her father for the news
If I want to know her status.

This is the way I live my life
Shut completely out of hers.
The lovely dog our only tie
I pray that Bella never dies.
ljm
A continuing episode in life with my daughter and her now-husband.
The gulls sweep in, squawking
sky spiraling upon clear sun bright
morning air, perhaps disputing
my unintended trespass into
their natural domain.

The comical Puffins have returned,
doing their Charlie Chaplin waddle
across the surf rippled sand, eating
whatever comes to beak or hand.

The ocean's salty wet scents embrace
me like an old friend. Flipping off
my croc clogs I roll up my pant legs,
to feel the comforting sand and shallow
surf between my toes, to be one with
this wonderful day and our mother the
sea. Reverting to being a child again
for an hour or two, mostly alone on
this beach, say for the birds, waves
and sun upon my face.
First prespring day back at the coast.
There is magic on this beach impossible
to ignore. It always seems to recharge
my inner battery. The Oregon shore at
her beguiling best. When the sun is out
that is.
~
March 2024
HP Poet: Caroline Shank
Age: 77
Country: USA


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Caroline. Please tell us about your background?

Caroline Shank: "I am 77 and I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. When I worked for Barnes and Nobel for ten years, customers asked me frequently for suggestions. I believe 'The Alexandria Quartet' by Lawrence Durrell is a serious contender for best prose fiction which has been written. Also 'The English Patient' by Michael Ondaatje is such a teaching tool on how to write the greatest novel ever written. I digress."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Caroline Shank: "I have been writing poetry since the adolescent striving of the very lonely. I am not sure how long I have been posting to Hello Poetry. At least 3 years, or maybe 5?"


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Caroline Shank: "The unusual image will send me running for pen and paper. Usually what inspires the senses: a wind, an odor or perfume. I still remember my love affair with Chloe perfume. And! English Leather! Those were the days. Great sadness or anger will send me to my laptop but those poems do not usually survive."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Caroline Shank: "Poetry means that I have a place in a wonderful place. Once in awhile."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Caroline Shank: "My favorite poet's are: T. S. Eliot, Rainer Maria Rilke (the Stephen Mitchell translations), E. E. Cummings. I am a fan of Sara Teasdale's, her From the Sea is amazing. I save Shakespeare for the best nuggets ever. Anna Peters, her “I Am Not a Gentle Person” is a tour'd if ever. I love the poetry that is a much needed relief from The Civil War. Especially Lorena. I guess that's a song. Only one poem of Ezra Pound's, The Metro. It is a graduate course in image exploration."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Caroline Shank: "I used to be a huge consumer of books. I read all the time. I find that at my age I can't keep reading without finding something else to do."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We wish to thank you for giving us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Caroline! We are honored to add you to this series!”

Caroline Shank: "Thank you, Carlo! I am very grateful for all the encouragement you have given me."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Caroline a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #14 in April!

~
Baby Gray Dove was searching for food and gave up.
Spread her wings and flew way up high
How I wished I could have joined her
It's damp and about to shower for hours
The Oldies about the Rain fill my head as I continue walking
There will be a rainbow at some point with our Father saying Hi from way up above
Another Rain song

C#rainbowchaser2024
understanding can come in a flash
a mind illumined by a shooting star-
the realisation you were oh so wrong
yet again munching on humble pie.
on the silent city street
when the bar closed
that's where I met her
she was crazy

and wanted to dance on rooftops,
at sunrise
she took me to the cemetery
pointed to the graves of children
the box turtle crawling
toward the 3 crosses

full moon

we climbed the water tower
her eyes dark as coal
looked inside of me
and she began unbuttoning her blouse,
" just tell me you love me,"
(and we howled with the wolves)

2 troubled spirits

she wanted to be held
"and tell me you love me,"

she wanted to be held

but not
the way I held her

she's in my dreams

waiting for me

and no matter how you play your cards
misfits and wanderers
are lost and never found.
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